by Lucy Score
“Why would she do that?”
“She cares, man,” Drake said, lifting his beer.
“Did you know that her pet project that she’s got in the works is a trade school for women to learn not just a job but how to run a business?” Henry added. “She’s ready to start looking for a physical location, but she put it on hold for Merry.”
“A trade school?” Noah asked.
“Sure. Electric, HVAC, plumbing, contracting. Accounting, payroll, marketing. And then a small business incubator with resources for women who want to start their own businesses,” Drake said. “We talked about it last night. She’s passionate as hell about it, and I couldn’t help but get excited.”
Last night? Noah wondered if not dating included hooking up with a non-ex.
“That’s a hell of an idea,” Noah admitted, brushing the thought aside. Cat could hook up with whomever she chose. It was none of his business.
“She’s full of them,” Henry nodded. “Did you know she showed up here the morning after the storm so she could convince the network to do the special here instead of some done-to-death neighbor-versus-neighbor decorating contest?”
“Cat was here?”
“She got worried when she couldn’t get through to the Hais. Came up here with a field producer and shot footage for ten hours so the network couldn’t say no. Rumor has it she even spent some time on a rescue boat.”
Noah was shaking his head. “That can’t be true.”
Drake grinned. “Face it, man. She’s not the person you thought she was.”
“She cares. Deeply. And she’s going to do everything in her power to make sure the people of Merry get their Christmas,” Henry added.
Noah scraped a hand through his hair. Could he have been this wrong about her? Could his stubborn, immobile moral code be flawed? He thought about what she said about Sara. Was his dedication to responsibility, his need for control, really cutting him off from life? When had his world gotten so damn small?
“You look a little sick. You want some wings?” Drake offered.
Noah tried to remember the last time he’d had anything deep fried and coated with blue cheese.
“Yeah. You know what? I do want wings.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Cat dragged the heavy glass door open and ushered Paige and her mother inside, leaving the late autumn chill outside. The Workshop was the only bar within ten miles of Merry, and Cat was in desperate need of a good buzz. She’d invited her mom and Paige along to keep her from buying a carton of eggs and going to town on Noah’s house on her way back to her trailer.
In any other town in the world, the bar would be decorated with neon beer signs and flat screens with football on them. In Merry, the top shelf liquor was framed by a light-up Santa’s sleigh. There was a scrap of a dance floor in the corner painted in candy cane stripes. Regular patrons could purchase their own mugs, etched with their official elf names. All servers wore Santa hats.
It was both ridiculous and charming.
“I’m getting a Cosmo,” Angela announced, rubbing her palms together in anticipation. “I’m sorry you had a bad day, sweetie, but I’m glad I get to be part of the ‘blowing off steam’ portion of the evening.”
Cat should have been dead on her feet after a full day of filming. Reggie’s on-camera interview and the footage from the diner rocked. She knew because she watched the playback before they started the shoot at the Hais. The shoot that Noah had crashed with his piss-poor attitude and head-up-his-ass judgment had gone well, too. Viewers were going to get one hell of a before and after with all the feels.
Speaking of feels. She was still mad. Seething mad. And that temper had given her a second wind. She’d made an impromptu visit to the engineering office Jasper Hai worked for and—through eye-lash fluttering and a few subtle threats that came across as flirting to the uninitiated—had gotten a new sponsor for the damn treehouse and planted the seed for bringing Jasper back to work full-time.
“The audience would love to see what a good company does to support their employees when they need it most.”
Then she’d stormed back to her trailer and revamped the call sheets for tomorrow with Henry. In addition to demo day on three sites, they’d be digging through the park’s storage building to see how damaged the Christmas decorations were. She had six calls to return about her school and an entire line of new products to approve for next fall’s clothing line.
But she couldn’t stop thinking about how much she wanted to break Noah Yates’ nose.
In a flash of self-preservation, she’d called on her estrogen posse to support her… and keep her from doing something dumb enough to go to jail over.
Paige spotted an empty high-top table in the corner and led the way. The back wall was lit with one of those snowflake laser lights that made it look like a pink, indoor blizzard was happening.
Cat slid onto the barstool and rubbed the back of her neck. There was a ball of tension there that she knew wouldn’t be dislodged by a fun fling or overdoing it on liquor. No. The only thing that would dissolve it was running over Noah Yates in the middle of the street.
“So, let’s talk about why you look like you want to murder someone,” Paige suggested, shrugging out of her coat.
Angela, her sweet, Italian mother, leaned in. “You just tell me who it is. We’ve got connections, you know.”
Those connections included a baker cousin in Jersey and a small-time bookie in Queens.
“Believe me, Mom. If I wanted this guy to disappear, I’d want the satisfaction of doing it with my bare hands.”
A waitress, in a green elf dress and Santa hat, approached. “You ladies picked the right night. We’ve got three of the handsomest devils enjoying themselves at the bar tonight.”
Cat craned her neck. She wasn’t interested in a hook up tonight, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to enjoy the view.
“Damn it!” she hissed grabbing a menu and holding it over her face.
“Oh! It’s Drake and Henry and… oh.” Paige nervously moved Cat’s utensils out of her reach. “We can go somewhere else.”
“Where the hell else are we going to drink? The parking lot of a liquor store?” Cat hissed. She was going to have to talk to Drake and Henry about where their loyalties lay. Cat rolled her shoulders and shook her head. “No. We’re staying. He can leave.”
They ordered their drinks, cosmos all around plus a double shot of Jameson for Cat, and Cat busied herself shooting daggers in Noah’s general direction.
Angela put her feet on the rungs of her stool and stood to get a better look. “Oh, is that Noah?” she asked.
Cat yanked her back down. “Mom!”
“What? He doesn’t look like a hell beast. He’s very good-looking. The glasses make him look like an intellectual.”
“Hell beasts don’t have to be ugly. It’s what’s on the inside that’s a rotting smorgasbord of asshole.”
Paige’s eyebrows winged up her forehead, and she sent Angela a meaningful look.
“What?” Cat demanded. “Do you know what he said to me?”
“No,” Angela answered. “The only thing we’ve pried out of you is ‘rotting smorgasbord of asshole.’”
“He comes storming up to the Hai house. I’m sitting outside with April and Sara after April got a little teary-eyed inside. He asked if I like making little girls cry. He acted like I’d just given both girls breakdowns and salaciously filmed it for a salivating audience of soulless sadists.”
“You get really descriptive when you’re mad and sober,” Paige observed. “And your alliteration is spot on.”
“Don’t make me add you to my hit-and-run list,” Cat warned.
“Why was he in your face?” her mother asked.
“He thought I made April cry on camera until I pointed out that there were no cameras outside. Duh. Then he launched into another tirade about me being a shining beacon of everything that�
�s wrong in this universe. And I finally let him have it. Verbally at least, because I’m a fucking lady.”
The waitress returned with their drinks. “You three ladies are lu-u-ucky. Courtesy of Drake ‘Hottie’ Mackenrowe.”
Cat glanced toward the bar. Drake and Henry waved cheerfully. Noah just stared.
Paige and Angela raised their glasses in a thank you. Cat stared back at Noah, willing him to read her mind.
Fuck. You.
He raised an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth quirked. Cat’s eyes narrowed. How dare he look so calm, so pleasant.
Paige pulled out her phone.
“What are you doing?” Cat hissed.
“I’m texting Drake and telling him not to let Noah come over here or Cat will gut him like a fish in front of all these witnesses and we’re going to have to drive really far in the dead of the night to hide the body.”
Drake held up his phone. Message received.
Cat turned her attention back to the table. “So, anyway, he’s there yelling at me on the sidewalk. And I lost it. It was a long day of filming, and then we walk through a house that barely two years ago we renovated to perfection. And now it’s moldy and muddy and completely unlivable. I wanted to cry with April.”
Angela reached out and squeezed her hand. “Honey. You’re my daughter, and if you want me to go over there and slap the glasses off that incredibly handsome man I will do it.”
Cat considered it briefly. But as entertaining as it would be to see, she preferred to fight her own battles. And do her own slapping.
“Thanks, Mom. If you don’t mind, I’ll keep that offer on the table for now.”
Angela nodded. “You just tell me where and when, and I will be there to slap the crap out of anyone you want.”
“Ah, family,” Paige sighed. “So, what else went down outside? We all heard the yelling.”
“Oh!” Cat gave the table a resounding slap hard enough to rattle the drinks. “Get this! He compares me to one of those sleazebag ambulance chasers and accuses me of kidnapping his daughter and exposing her to ‘sordid drama’!”
“Well, that’s ridiculous. Sara’s mother handed her over and obviously let him know since he knew where to find you and Sara,” Paige pointed out.
“Thank you,” Cat said, gesturing wildly enough that her mother picked up her drink and cradled it to her chest. “Exactly what I was thinking.”
“Do you think he has something going on up here that would prevent him from recognizing your generosity and brilliance?” Angela asked twirling a finger around her ear.
“You mean like a brain tumor?” Paige asked loyally.
“That’s got to be it. No other explanation,” Angela announced. She drained her drink and held the empty glass aloft as their server walked by.
Like magic, the server arrived with three fresh drinks a moment later. “This round is on Noah, our very sexy, very single city manager.”
Cat pushed the drink away. Why in the hell would the man who accused her of being the antichrist to human decency buy her a drink. Was it a liquid middle finger?
“What is wrong with you? Catalina King does not turn down free drinks,” Paige said, pushing the drink back at her.
“It’s probably poisoned.”
“I hate to point this out and make you think that I’m being disloyal, and I hope you know if you need help hiding his body you can count on me, but…”
Cat gave Paige a cool glare, daring her to say anything in Noah’s favor.
“I’m wondering if maybe we should try to keep the peace. We’re going to be here until Christmas. That’s five weeks that could be beyond miserable if we give Noah any reason at all to make things difficult for us here.”
Cat gnawed on her lip. Backing down from a fight was not in the King nature.
“How about you just keep him far, far away from me, and he’ll live to be an asshole another day?”
“I feel like I should go talk to him and find out just what his problem with my daughter is,” Angela mused out loud.
“No talking to him,” Cat ordered. “I will drink this drink instead of throwing it in his face, but no one is going to engage Noah in anything other than hand-to-hand combat.” She grabbed at the server’s arm as the woman swung past the table. “Another Jameson, please.”
“Question from the peanut gallery,” Paige raised her hand. “Why does Noah get under your skin like that? You’re used to being underestimated. And, if I may point out, you usually revel it.”
Cat pointed a rigid index finger at Paige. “Don’t say it.” She could hear her friend’s thoughts clear as a bell.
“Maybe there’s sparks flying because there’s some kind of attraction going on,” Angela said, fluffing her dark hair.
“Mom!”
“Paige is right,” Angela continued, immune to Cat’s sharp tone. “You usually let this stuff roll right off your back and then crush the undeserving, underestimating ass like a cockroach under your heel. You never waste time stewing about it.”
Cat drummed her fingers on the table. “I’m not stewing.”
“Maybe not stewing,” Paige said in a way that made Cat think stewing was exactly what she meant. “But there’s something about this guy that gets to you. And all we’re saying is what if it’s not hate?”
“Oh, so I’m supposed to accept this asshole yelling obscenities at me in the street as flirting?”
“Point taken,” Paige nodded graciously. “I think your mom and I are just wondering if there’s something else there besides abject hate.”
“Not on this side. I can assure you,” Cat said, swigging back her Cosmo and letting the vodka do its thing. She had very strong feelings for Noah. Murderously strong. And she wasn’t interested in psychoanalyzing exactly why he got to her.
The server dropped off her Jameson and wisely retreated without any comment.
“Excuse me.” A gritty voice interrupted Cat’s mental gymnastics. The man was in his fifties. He had a broad, flat nose. A hefty beer belly strained the seams of his shirt and suspenders.
“Well if it isn’t my old friend…”
“Regis,” the man supplied, dipping his head in an awkward half-bow.
Paige was already sliding off her stool as if to intervene.
“Refresh my memory, Regis,” Cat said slyly. “How did we meet last time?”
The man’s already ruddy cheeks took on a ruby red hue. He cleared his throat. “Well, as best as I can recollect, we met right here on the dance floor.”
“Mmm hmm. And how did our introduction go?” Cat tapped a finger to her chin, knowing full well how it went.
“Well, ma’am. I had gotten a little handsy, and you fairly warned me before punching me square in the face.”
“That does sound familiar. How are your hands now?” Cat asked.
Paige choked on her Cosmo. “Went down the wrong pipe. Sorry,” she gasped.
“These hands don’t wander anymore. I can promise you that. I was feeling particularly low that day, had too much to drink, and acted a fool,” Regis announced. “But thanks to that bell ringer I’ve cleaned up my act.”
“Well, I am happy to hear that, Regis,” Cat said.
“I was wondering if I could buy you ladies a round as an apology?”
Cat eyed her companions. “Apology drinks accepted.”
CHAPTER NINTEEN
Cat was at the bottom of her third Cosmo and feeling no pain. She’d given up not staring and watched Noah watch her. The Workshop was busy, crowded and noisy with neighbors finally able to blow off a little steam now that the figurative cavalry had arrived with hope for the future. Her mother and Paige were exchanging stories about Gabby’s day, but Cat had trouble dragging her blurry focus away from those green eyes across the bar.
When Cat finally returned her attention to her empty glass and its “Nothing Says Christmas Like Merry” cocktail napkin, Noah rose from his stool and
shrugged into his wool coat. He shook hands with Henry and then Drake and headed for the door. He stopped at nearly every table between the bar and the door, exchanging greetings, shaking hands. And when he got to the door, his eyes found hers.
Was she imagining the subtle nod? The pointed look?
Noah Yates was inviting her outside. Perhaps she would have the opportunity to kick his ass in an alley tonight. She’d save the hit and run for when she was sober.
“Excuse me, ladies,” Cat said, sliding off her stool. She didn’t bother taking her coat. She didn’t need witnesses. She headed in the direction of the restrooms and then doubled back toward the front door when she was sure Paige and Angela were distracted.
The night sky was a navy-blue carpet of stars in the crisp cold. Cat crossed her arms over her chest and stared up. The noise and company of the bar behind her, nothing but the silence of a winter night in front of her.
“Hey.” Noah leaned against the brick façade, hands shoved in his coat pockets. The word came out in a cloud of breath.
“Hey yourself.”
“Got a minute?” he asked.
She couldn’t read him. Cat didn’t sense any indications of the righteous anger he’d hurled at her earlier in the day. But he wasn’t exactly friendly either.
“Depends.”
The door to the bar opened behind Cat, and a couple, laughing and handsy, stumbled out onto the sidewalk. Noah nodded his head toward the skinny stretch of alley next to the bar and Cat followed him.
“Why were you having drinks with my friends?” she demanded once the darkness of the alley closed around them.
“They were attempting to educate me.”
“Oh? On what?”
“You.” He listed a bit to one side.
Noah Yates had a buzz going.
“What ezatly about me?” Okay, maybe Noah wasn’t the only one a few sheets to the wind.
“They think I’m wrong about you.”
“You are wrong about me. Su-u-uper wrong.” To emphasize her point, she stabbed a finger in the direction of his chest. It caught him at the base of the throat.