Since Lana’s company had bought out those contracts, it was the same deal Rick had with her. And he would have stuffed his head in a snowbank before telling her he couldn’t afford to call a ducting company.
There was more. Windows that were old, leaking in water and leaking out heat, no matter how much caulk he used. A delivery ramp with a dangerously wobbly railing. Wiring for both indoor and outdoor lighting that he was slowly fixing as he had the time.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lana frowned, turning a circle as she took in the damage.
His silence must have spoken volumes, because this time, Lana failed to keep a professional expression. “I’m aware I’m not the most popular person in this town, but I’d be remiss to let one of my properties go into disrepair. Didn’t you get the memo?”
“We all got the memo.” Rick didn’t meet her eyes. “I guess I was hoping if I didn’t make waves, I might be able to catch up on rent before someone said anything.”
Rick knew he wasn’t the first person to admit they were struggling to make ends meet. However, it was humiliating to stand in front of her, jaw tight and gaze on the wall over her shoulder.
“I know.”
Rick’s eyes found hers. “You knew?”
“The Montgomery Group holds the leases, but I’m personally invested in what’s happening in this town. I know as much as I can about the businesses here, including the owners of those businesses.” Lana added, “Don’t worry. I’m not trying to unearth everyone’s deepest, darkest secrets.”
“You wouldn’t find much.” With a rueful look, Rick shook his head as he led her back to the front room. “In Moose Springs, we can’t keep anything secret if we wanted to. I’m guessing they all know what I had for breakfast this morning.”
Lana slid back onto her stool. “The first of the month is coming fast.”
“Yeah, the Christmas decorations keep reminding me.” If she knew he was behind on his rent, she’d know how much. And she’d know it wasn’t going to get any better in the next two weeks.
“Play me for it.”
Rick’s eyes stayed on the wall as he tried not to let his flaring pride show. “For the back rent?”
He would rather be punched in the face than accept that kind of charity.
“No, for an extension. You’re good for the rent, Rick. It never occurred to me otherwise. But if I start giving extensions, everyone will want them. Then it’ll become a nightmare for the management team. You’ll have to play me for it.”
His mouth twitched slightly as he finally looked at her. “You sure? I’m going to win.”
“Don’t underestimate me. Men have a bad habit of underestimating women in business affairs. It never goes well for them when they do.” Her eyes flickered over to the pool tables as if considering the challenge she’d offered him.
Agreeing would have been so easy. Instead, Rick reached out and touched Lana’s hand to draw her attention back to him. The action had been instinctive, but in hindsight, feeling her smooth skin beneath his rougher fingertips was dangerous. An unexpected attraction was one thing. Having her this close, the subtle scent of her perfume scrambling his wits and clawing at his defenses, was another.
“I’m a decent player.” Rick felt obligated to warn her. “It’s kind of a hazard of the profession.”
Lana gave him an arch look, one that made him lean in closer. “Well, then I won’t feel too bad when I beat you.”
“You’re welcome to try,” he replied, taking his favorite cue from its spot leaning behind the bar. “I’m game if you are.”
Her soft, rich laugh matched the bourbon perfectly.
Lana brought her rosé and her bourbon to the table closest to the fireplace. “I’m a little chilly.” She shrugged her jacket off once they were in the vicinity of the space heater he’d set next to that side of the wall. “You’d think I’d be used to the weather after so many Chicago winters.”
Rick grabbed a second space heater from near the door and plugged it in, aiming it her way. Then he glanced at the cold fireplace. “Want me to get a fire going?”
“Maybe next time.” Her eyes sparkled as she chalked her cue stick. “This won’t take very long. Best out of three?”
Unable to resist the challenge in her eyes, Rick found himself dangerously close to smiling. “Your break.”
The sweater Lana wore was long enough that it stayed snug around her hips when she bent over to break, but the loose cowl neck slipped down her shoulder. Rick was learning a lot today about Lana and himself. Apparently, he was a shoulder guy. Who knew?
“You’re staring at me.” Lana looked up, and when she flashed him a heart-stopping grin, Rick was tempted to throw the game for the sheer hell of it.
“You’re gorgeous,” he said quietly, since all sense had already abandoned him.
Lana missed her break. The cue slipped right off her knuckles, sending the white cue ball spinning sideways, nowhere close to the triangle of billiard balls she was trying to hit.
Rick took the ball and ignored her protestation, placing it back in her hand. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.”
“I never said I was uncomfortable,” Lana replied, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as she offered him a flirtatious look. “I also never said thank you. That day down by the lake when you ran off those jerks.”
“You said thank you. You sent me a letter.”
That letter was the oddest thing in his home. Lana’s handwriting had been smooth and polished, as if she’d learned how to write a letter professionally. Whereas her words had been chopped, difficult to follow, as if she herself hadn’t really understood what she was trying to say.
The thick, silky paper had been folded into a lined envelope actually embossed with his name. But the stamp on the front had been slapped on partially askew. The combination of polish and haphazardness confused him. Rick probably had paid too much attention to the thing.
She could have sent him an email.
“You’re the only person in town who doesn’t make me uncomfortable,” Lana told him.
“You’re the only person in town who makes me feel like I’m thirteen again.” That hadn’t come out the way he wanted. Rick cast around, once again hoping someone would save him from himself. No one did. “It’s the whole head cheerleader thing. You don’t go sit at her table unless you want the whole school to watch you get milk thrown in your face.”
“Mathletes.”
“What?”
“I was in the mathletes. It’s like debate club, only we tried to solve math problems faster than our opponents.”
Suddenly, he laughed. Not at her but because he never in a million years would have pictured this woman scrambling to out-math anyone. And damn, it felt good to laugh.
“You’re making fun of me.” Lana’s cheeks had turned rosy, but her eyes were sparkling with self-deprecating humor. “It’s okay. My cousin Killian teased me about it mercilessly. Race car Killian, not polo Killian. Polo Killian was in mathletes too.”
Rick raised an eyebrow. “You have two cousins named Killian?”
“Ridiculous, isn’t it? You’d think one would be enough. I promise race car Killian is the far superior Killian, no matter what I tell him to his face. When dealing with Killians, one must keep their egos in check.”
Her description of her family caused his mouth to twitch upward. “Isn’t Killian the one Graham beat up?”
“Race car Killian. And Graham didn’t beat him up,” she said, defending her cousin’s honor. “There were simply words exchanged in a more physical form than normal.”
“Graham was pretty upset,” Rick reminded her. “Zoey nearly got killed in that rainstorm Killian took her four-wheeling in.”
“I’m fairly sure that was equal opportunity near death. Zoey wasn’t exactly making her best choi
ces. Getting dumped by her dream guy can do that to a girl.” Lana took her time lining up her next shot. “Killian didn’t deserve it. Speaking of which, I’m about to run the table, which you don’t deserve either. Sorry, dearest.”
Sure enough, Lana ran the table on him, earning herself the first win of three.
Since she’d won, it was Rick’s turn to break. No one had come in, and he doubted that would change much in the next hour. Still, the night wasn’t a bust at all. This was the most alone time he’d had with a woman in ages, and he had to admit he was enjoying himself. Maybe a little too much.
Lana watched him break, her hip distracting him as she leaned against the table. “If I did an internet search, what would I find about you?”
“Probably far less than you’d find about most people.” Don’t bring up the divorce. It was weird to bring up the divorce. Don’t say the d-word. “I’m divorced.”
Yep. Because why not ruin the last pleasant fifteen minutes with something awkward and uncomfortable?
“I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”
Hard. Humiliating. Hurtful. Hell. Something that started with an h.
“It was a while ago,” Rick grunted, taking his first shot.
He didn’t even know why he’d brought it up, except the divorce felt like the defining moment of his adult life. A massive, soul-crushing defining moment that the thousands of strangers passing through Moose Springs never knew or cared about.
“I think I saw you with her once when I first came to town. I’m sorry I never got to meet her.”
It was a simple observation, probably thoughtlessly—if politely—spoken. But it meant something to Rick that she had noticed.
“It’s fine. We run in different crowds.” Rick glanced at her, finding those glorious eyes watching him.
“You’d think that wouldn’t be the case when I’ve been running away to Moose Springs every chance I got for years now.” Lana brushed her hair out of her eyes as she waited for him to take his next shot. “Anything else? No runs as a bull rider down in the lower forty-eight? A sordid past as a grifter? Secret card shark?”
“I was semipro at pool.” Rick almost felt guilty as he sunk his next ball. “I won some money touring around, but it never panned out into anything bigger.”
“So I’m playing a professional.”
“Semiprofessional.” When he promptly missed his third shot, Rick added ruefully, “That was a while ago.”
Frankly, he’d be lucky if he made any shots, as distracted as he was by Lana’s presence.
“You don’t have to undersell your skills, Rick.” She leaned over the table, solidly sinking her first ball. “I don’t make a habit of being intimidated by the well-earned prowess of my companions. Don’t take it too hard when I really do beat you.”
“If you do, you’ll earn it fair and square.”
They shared a grin over the table. He had watched her play long enough to intuitively know he was better than her. But Rick liked how there was a small part of him that wondered how much better. Pool had always been his thing, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t good enough to take advantage of a misstep on his part.
And man, did she have him off his game.
“By the way, I’m not your landlady,” Lana informed him as she circled the table, choosing her next shot. “I work for a conglomerate that owns this building. You don’t answer to me. We both answer to them.”
Maybe. Or maybe she was trying to reassure him of their equal footing when he knew damn well the footing wasn’t equal at all. At least she was smiling at him for real. How had he never known the difference until tonight?
Lana barely missed her shot, leaving the cue ball in a near impossible place for him to play. She’d snookered him.
“Sorry,” she said impishly.
“Sorry for what?” Rick replied, unable to help himself from showing off a little. Most players couldn’t pull off a kick shot from that angle, but he’d grown up on the game. There were very few shots he couldn’t make. At her low whistle of appreciation, Rick decided that it wouldn’t be too terrible to show off a little more.
He ran the table in under a minute, then sank the eight ball with a satisfying thump.
“Your break,” Rick said.
“I’m surprised you only went semipro.” Lana set the billiards for the last game.
“Wasn’t the right scene for me.” Rick tried to cover how much he enjoyed impressing her by taking a sip of his bourbon. “Living in hotel rooms leaves a lot to be desired.”
He realized what he said, but before he could backtrack, Lana gave him a wry look. “I learned that particular lesson when I was a child. My closest companions were always the housekeeping staff and the concierge attendants. They were always the best at hide-and-seek.”
“Sounds lonely.”
“I had friends, but most of them fit in my back pocket and had to be replaced when their bindings gave way.”
Rick chuckled. “They were probably more loyal than most.”
The last game was tougher because her break was excellent. Lana sank her first three balls, then she barely missed her fourth. Rick needed that extension, so even though he would have loved to draw the game out—if just for a few extra moments of her time—he didn’t have the luxury. He ran the table with the quick, clean shots that had earned him enough money to open the pool hall in the first place.
“Your win, Rick.” She offered him the cue ball. Lana’s voice was softer, richer, and so sexy the sound of it was already seared into his brain. “The extension is all yours.”
Staying where he was, Rick held her eyes. “What do you get out of it?”
“The knowledge that one more thing is right with the world tonight. A good man catches a break.”
His hand brushed against hers as he accepted the cue ball. Every week, people handed him back sets of billiards without it being a problem. But when her fingertips lingered against his, neither of them pulled away. She was tall enough that he wasn’t looming over her but near enough that the scent of her filled his nostrils. He’d never met a woman who could steal his breath away by shifting forward a critical inch. And suddenly, her head was tilted back to hold his eyes, and Rick was fairly sure he wanted to kiss her.
If she closed one more inch between them, he might even be convinced she wanted him to kiss her too.
He shouldn’t. There was more than unpaid back rent standing between them. Lana was used to a whole hell of a lot more than Rick could ever give anyone. He’d learned the hard way his life wasn’t enough to make a woman happy. So Rick stepped back…even though he would have much rather stepped much closer. Lana blinked as if coming out of a daze, then she stepped back too, reaching for her coat. She shrugged it on, belting the soft leather at her waist.
“Sometimes people deserve a break,” Lana said. “And maybe I wanted the fun of almost beating a handsome semiprofessional at his game of choice.” The playful tone in her voice gave her away.
“You did Google me, didn’t you?”
“I’ll admit to doing my research,” she said. “You’re welcome to return the favor.”
As she walked toward the door, her jacket hugging her hips, Rick had to admit that he might take her up on that.
“Oh, and, Rick?” Lana paused at the door, smiling at him over her shoulder. “If I don’t see you before then, have a merry Christmas.”
It was looking better already.
* * *
After Lana left, only one customer came in to play a round. One. Between that and the meager daytime business, today wouldn’t even cover keeping the lights on. Rick stayed until he knew there wasn’t a point anymore, then he locked up and headed home.
Home was a modest ranch on a few acres of land, butted up against the far side of the Lockett property. Even though the bulk of the landscape didn’t belong to
Rick, there was a feeling of solitude and privacy to the property he loved. Since he worked a lot of hours, often until late in the evenings, he’d installed solar-powered flood lamps outside the house.
With the days shortening to fewer hours of sunlight, those solar-powered lamps wouldn’t get the power they needed much longer. He’d have to double-check the backup batteries. Mentally adding that to his to-do list, Rick parked under the empty metal carport next to the house, even though Diego’s car was already in the drive. Diego had the run of the place—and had since he’d come to live with them as a teenager—but he’d never truly settled in. And he never took the place under the carport, no matter how many times Rick reminded him that he was welcome to it.
Life hadn’t been easy on the kid. He’d survived a car accident that had killed his whole immediate family. Jen had promised Diego that he had a place with them, but then Jen had left too. Since then, Diego had been stuck with Rick, who didn’t know a thing about raising a teenager.
The least he deserved was a windshield free of snow every once in a while.
The path to the house was scraped clear, leaving one less thing Rick would have to do himself. Not for the first time, he was grateful for the extra pair of helping hands…even if those hands were connected to the surliest twenty-year-old he’d ever met.
When Rick opened the door, a cat was waiting for him beyond the foyer rug, eyeing Rick with disapproval.
“Evening, Roger,” Rick said.
Roger’s tawny eyes were flat. As far as he could remember, Roger had never liked anyone, not even when they’d brought him home as a kitten from the shelter in Anchorage. In the years that followed, Roger had grown as heavy and as long as a small bobcat. And his distrust of Rick had grown proportionately.
“I got home as soon as I could,” he told his ex’s pet.
Roger mewed, a dismissive sound if he’d ever heard one. The orange tabby’s tail twitched, a sure sign he was displeased.
“Okay, fine. But Diego’s here. I’m not sure why it always has to be me.”
Rick leaned over and picked up the massive house cat, adjusting his hold so Roger was in his favorite spot, cradled along the length of Rick’s forearm, belly up and head flopped back.
Mistletoe and Mr. Right Page 5