She pauses with her hand on the door handle. “Thanks. I need to grab my laptop and purse.”
We stare at one another for a split second. But it’s long enough for Morgan to take notice. “The trunk opens a lot better if somebody presses a button to pop it.”
Pink creeps up her cheeks, and she jumps into action. “Right.”
Morgan is going to give me so much hell for this later.
She opens the door and leans inside. There’s a thunk, and the trunk lifts a fraction.
“What does a unicorn put in her suitcase?” Morgan clanks the chains as he loosens them from the wench.
I’m not sure if I want to punch him or laugh. As I grab her bag, I test the weight. Is there something strange inside? I’ve never met a unicorn before.
“Horn polish,” she answers without missing a beat.
Morgan bursts into laughter. “Should’ve seen that coming.”
She hikes a laptop bag and a purse onto her shoulder as I slam the trunk.
“We’ll give you a ride to the nearest hotel,” I say quietly.
“I’m staying at Winter Valley Bed & Breakfast.” She climbs in the truck as if she does it every day.
I nearly drop her suitcase, though I should’ve realized she’d be staying there. It’s practically the only place in town.
“Since it’ll be crowded in the cab, do you mind putting this at your feet?” There’s no back seat to stow her bag, and no room up front on the seat either. It’s on the floorboard . . . or the roof.
She lifts them, and I slide her small case beneath.
I tug on the gloves and grab the other chain Morgan needs to hook up to my truck. Damn. What am I going to do without my ride? Borrowing one of my brother’s vehicles is going to be a pain.
“She’s quirky but hot,” he says as we work together.
“Stay away from her,” I warn. The last thing she needs is him bothering her.
His glance says it all: try to stop me!
Reaching toward the nightstand, I grab my phone and turn off the alarm.
“Five more minutes,” I mumble.
“Daddy!”
I turn my head toward the door where Perry stands in her teddy bear pajamas. She has Mr. Fluff clutched to her chest.
“Good morning, Cupcake.” I get out of the bed and stroll toward her.
Lifting her, I kiss her cheek. “Morning, Mr. Fluff.” I give her favorite stuffed animal’s leg a tug. “Are we ready to start the day?”
She smiles and nods, giving me a big loud kiss before I put her down. We go to her room to choose her clothes. It never fails—colorful leggings with a skirt, a turtleneck shirt, and wacky socks. My sister, Elisse, sends her clothes every time she finds something adorable and cool. She insists I have zero taste when it comes to clothes, and if it were up to me, Perry would be wearing jeans and T-shirts just like me.
Once she’s ready, we go downstairs for breakfast. I pull out two bowls, a box of cereal, berries, and milk. We sing Christmas songs as she helps me pour the cereal, sprinkle the berries, and add the milk.
“You’ll be going to Uncle Joe’s after school,” I remind her.
Immediately, her face lights up with a wide smile. “I love Uncle Joe. Do you think he’ll read to me and Mr. Fluff? I love Very Hungry Caterpillar the best.”
I grin. How can I not?
“I’m sure if you use your best manners, Uncle Joe will read Very Hungry Caterpillar to you, Cupcake.”
“I will, Daddy.”
Joe is my dad’s brother, and since he retired, he’s been helping me a lot with Perry. He’s one of Perry's favorite people in the world, and we would both be lost without him. He doesn’t spoil her with anything but loads of love and hugs. When we were in New York, it was nearly impossible to juggle Perry, the company, and life. But here? I’m lucky. We’re surrounded by people willing to pitch in by offering to take her in the afternoons or when I have to work late.
“This weekend, we’re picking out our Christmas tree,” I say. “On Sunday, we’re driving to Denver. Grandma and Grandpa are coming back to spend the holidays with us.”
She claps excitedly. “Can I have cocoa?”
“Yes, but we’re skipping the marshmallows. You don’t need to be sugared up before school.”
I prepare her hot chocolate while I make coffee. I check that her drink isn’t too hot and pour it into a sippy cup.
“You can drink it here while I get ready for work, Cupcake.” I hand over the cup while I pour my coffee in a to-go mug.
I rush upstairs, leaving Perry in the kitchen. It doesn’t take me long to get ready. I’m a pro at two-minute showers, then get ready in two more before Perry sets the house on fire. She’s a princess with an evil mastermind.
“Ready to rock and roll?” I ask when I barrel back into the kitchen.
“Rock and roll!” she shouts, throwing a tiny fist in the air. “Do the air guitar, Daddy.”
We’re in a hurry, but I don’t care. There’s always time for air guitar for my Cupcake.
Chapter Five
Audrey
I’m having the best dream of my life—lying on the beach next to Chris Hemsworth—when my phone wakes me with the sound of Aurora’s ringtone—“Psycho.” The piercing of the violins is the preamble of what’s to come once I answer the phone.
Clearing my throat and coughing slightly, I answer, “Audrey Reed.”
“Were you sleeping?”
“What?” I clear my throat again. “Of course not. The air is too dry.”
“Legal just emailed me. You haven’t requested the purchase contract,” she sneers.
My head pounds at the tempo of her screechy voice. Every time she speaks, a flower withers somewhere in sunny California.
“I haven’t found her yet.” My voice is firm and steady. “She wasn’t here when I checked in last night. I haven’t seen anyone in the building.”
The latter isn’t a lie. I haven’t been out of my room.
“You’ll be the first one I call when I make contact with Ms. Grant,” I assure her.
“Just a reminder that you're there for work, not a vacation.”
Pushing the blankets away and getting out of bed, I take the opportunity to bring something important to her attention.
“Are you aware that this place is going to need major renovations?” Nothing here is up to code.
The red carpet is as old as disco music. The beds squeak. The wallpaper is so last century.
“Would you mind if I assess the place?” I look outside the window and smile when I spot a deer trying to reach up to the pine. This is an endearing winter wonderland. I wouldn’t mind staying for a few days. Chasing for Ms. Grant won’t be as daunting as I thought. “That’s a part of what I do.”
That is what I do!
“Focus on getting me that property.”
The line goes dead.
Aurora has always been relentless in going after what she wants. I’ve often wondered how she finds some of the properties we end up acquiring. This one? I can't even begin to guess how it ended up on her radar. Or why she even thinks it’s for sale.
If the way the Winter Valley B&B is run is any indication, I understand her logic. It’s neglected. By all appearances, the owner has no interest in the property. The B&B must be turning a profit, or it would be closed. Then again, I haven't seen much staff, so that’s a massive cost she might be saving on.
I shrug. Maybe selling to Aurora is a solution to a problem for her.
That thought gives me hope.
Taking my time, I go through the motions of showering, dressing, and going downstairs for breakfast.
The empty house still has an unattended small front desk. I walk toward the dining area, which is vacant too. I recall reading they serve continental breakfast. It’s past eight, and nothing’s on the table.
Clang. Bang. Clang.
A second later, a tall, rugged guy pushes through the door.
He glances at me and g
rins. His light blue eyes seem familiar, but I can’t place him.
“Good morning.” He sets a plate of muffins and a cup of coffee on the table. “Here’s your breakfast.”
I stare at the food and then at him. “Are you the owner of this place?”
“No, I just bring pastries from the bakery when there’s a guest,” he explains.
“This is breakfast?”
He looks at it and then at me. “Listen, lady, I’m just following instructions. They don’t pay me to do this.”
“Where can I find Ms. Grant?” I ask, grabbing the coffee because I seriously need a pick-me-up right about now.
“Who?”
“The owner of this establishment,” I answer after taking a few sips of what can only be described as dark, dirty water.
He can’t possibly call this coffee. “Are you planning on poisoning the guests?” I arch an eyebrow.
“Excuse me, but I’m not Mr. Starbucks,” he argues. “As I explained, they don’t pay me to do this.”
“Clearly. It might be easier if you set the coffee maker in this area so the guests can make their own,” I suggest.
“It would, but we don’t have one,” he replies. “It broke last week, and no one has replaced it. This week, you’ll be drinking instant coffee. No one else has complained.”
I look at the coffee and then at him. His attitude reminds me of someone, but I can’t think of anyone in particular.
“The muffins are good,” he offers. “Becky is the best baker in the area.”
I grab one. It’s still warm to the touch. I tear off a piece and take a bite. They are like small pieces of cinnamon clouds.
“Tasty, aren’t they?”
I nod and take another bite. “It’s so good,” I confess, covering my mouth while I chew. “You were telling me about the owner.”
“Is there anything missing?” he asks. “Someone will clean your room later today. The cookies won’t be here until three—as the website says.”
“Everything is okay,” I say, staring at the coffee and shrugging. “Well, except that. I’d like to speak to whoever is in charge. My company is looking to invest in this property.”
He lifts his shoulder in a half shrug. “I can’t help you with that.”
“What if I need something important?”
“Then go get it yourself. Unless the place is on fire . . .” He frowns. “In that case, call the fire department because that’s out of my jurisdiction too.”
What? Is this how all guests are treated?
He turns around and leaves me standing. This place is almost like a make it on your own kind of establishment. There’s no staff to speak of, and the customer service is abysmal. As much as I hate to do it, I need to call Aurora to tell her to abort.
After finishing two of those amazing muffins, I put on my shoes and head to the repair shop to check on the car. Dealing with the accident is more appealing than calling my boss, so I’m putting that off as long as I can. I promised to have the insurance information with me. I do, but I’m hoping we can come to an agreement. In the long run, it might be more less expensive to pay out of pocket and bypass filing the accident on my insurance.
Plus, I’m hoping to avoid another accident on my driving record and skyrocketing premiums. I’d prefer the rental company not know about this one if I can help it. It’s not my fault other people slam on their brakes or a family of raccoons darts across the road. I had to choose them or a tree.
I chose the tree.
I’m afraid if I have one more accident, I’ll lose my rental privileges . . . as I already have with two other companies.
A thick carpet of snow covers the streets, but the air isn’t as cold as I expected. Sunlight reflects off the snow on the roofs of the buildings, making the colors brighter. I feel as if I’m in a real-life Christmas village like the ones that decorate the department store windows. The town is cozy and inviting.
I notice a shop down the street and pop in to buy a pair of snow boots since mine are either still flying around or lost in an airport somewhere.
Once I have my new boots on, I follow the directions Morgan Bradford gave me last night. “Walk two blocks west toward the mountains, then take a left on First Street. On your right, you’ll see the bakery. Keep going and you’ll see the shop. Morgan’s Auto Repair & Body Shop.”
Last night, I was tempted to ask Colin if he works with his brother. He has big, rugged hands. The idea of him working under a hood, shirtless, crossed my mind a couple of times. I have to stop wondering about him and if he kisses as great as he looks like he would. When he gave me his jacket, I felt like a teenager lusting for the quarterback. Wearing it was like a warm hug scented with pine, cedar, and musk.
“No unicorns today?” I hear the deep voice before I see him.
Colin Bradford sports dark stubble, a pair of sunglasses, and a bright smile. He could pose for a ski gear ad in Sports Illustrated.
“Good morning,” I reply. “Are you checking on your truck?”
“I’m borrowing one of Morgan’s since mine was involved in an accident.” Though his tone is sarcastic, it’s laced with humor and not anger. “I’m finishing a job in Aspen. How about you?”
“How about me?” I reply.
“I’m guessing you’re passing through and leaving as soon as you get another rental,” he says, gesturing toward the shop and moving forward. I follow. “I could drive you to Aspen. Most car rental agencies have an office or two in town.”
“No, I came to Winter Valley on business,” I say. And I want to keep this little accident a secret from the rental company. “I might be here until Friday. Hopefully, the car will be ready by then.”
He looks down at me and smiles, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. A set of dimples dig along his cheeks. “Morgan is good but not a magician.”
What’s that supposed to mean?
“Look what the storm dropped in,” Morgan says when we enter his office. “If it’s not Little Miss Unicorn and Captain Asshole.”
“I need to borrow one of your trucks. I have an appointment at ten.” Colin ignores his brother’s jibe, clearly the more mature of the two.
They look alike and even have similar mannerisms, seeming to take their work seriously. But Morgan is definitely more of the class clown. It’s funny, but I like Colin’s ability to balance when it’s time for fun and time to be serious. Not to mention, he’s the better looking of the two.
Morgan tosses him a set of keys. “Make sure to fill the tank on your way back. I hate when you leave it almost empty.”
“Yes, dear.” Colin looks at me and grins. Maybe not more mature. “See you later, Miss Unicorn.”
I try not to stare at him as he walks away, but it’s hard not to do. Those broad shoulders are sexy.
Morgan clears his throat. “Did you bring your insurance information?”
“I’d rather not use it.”
With a sigh, he takes off his cap and scratches his head.
Then he pulls out a spreadsheet and taps it a couple of times. “The piece we need to replace on the rental car is expensive. With insurance, you’d be paying the deductible. If we don't use it, you’re going to pay a lot more. I don’t have the final figure yet.”
My heart squeezes because a lot more than the deductible sounds like more money than what I have in my savings account.
“When can it be ready?”
He sighs and whistles. “Not sure yet. Depends on when I can get the parts.”
“I need to leave by Friday.”
That’s what I hope, but I’ll be here until . . . “Well, that is if I find Ms. Grant,” I mumble.
He frowns. “Who is Ms. Grant?”
“The owner of the bed and breakfast,” I explain. “My company sent me to buy the property. We’ve been trying to reach her, but she hasn’t answered our calls, emails, or correspondence. I’m hoping that since I’m here, she’ll talk to me.”
He takes a deliberate breath. �
�Not sure who this Ms. Grant is. Are you sure she’s even in town?”
“No. No, I’m not.” And how can he not know who she is? This town is the size of a peanut. “We searched for the deed. According to the county, the property belongs to Anna Beth Grant.”
He nods. “You might be right. Why don’t you ask around town? I’m sure the elders know more than I do.”
“I’ll do that.” I turn around with determination.
“Let me know what you want to do about the insurance,” he says when I’m almost to the door.
Slumping my shoulders, I pivot. “I need to think about it.”
“Don’t think too long. Some companies close for the holidays, and others take longer to respond. I need to get the ball rolling either way, so I’ll work up a quote. If you are paying out of pocket, I’ll need fifty percent down before I order the parts.”
“Is it going to be more than five thousand dollars?”
He looks at his initial assessment of the damage and then at me almost apologetically. “My best guess is yes. I’ll have an exact figure for you later today.”
I open my purse and search for my wallet with the insurance information. What am I going to do? There’s no way I can cover half of that today. Ms. Grant better be at the coffee shop drinking her morning coffee. If I don’t get the contract signed soon and my boss finds out about my accident, Aurora Sledge is going to make my life more miserable than she already has.
Chapter Six
Colin
Morgan has sent a text to everyone saying we need to have a meeting. Clarissa and Elisse drove from Denver. The issue isn’t big, but the reward is having the night off. My sisters are having a slumber party with Perry tonight.
Since they’re spending girl time, I convince Morgan and Colton to meet me at the bar.
“Look who’s here,” Colt grins. “Little Miss Unicorn. She’s cute and probably available.”
“How do you know her?” I ask.
“I served her breakfast. Besides, everyone in town knows her. They’re all talking about her outfit.”
Holiday with You Page 3