Snowman

by AC Netzel

  Do You Read What I Read?

  “Wow. That’s pretty,” I say, admiring the whimsical presentation.

  “This is one of my favorite displays,” Nick agrees. “Clever use of the books.”

  “Does every store in this town have a Christmas themed name?”

  “What do you mean?” he asks.

  “Do You Read What I Read is a play on Do You Hear What I Hear, isn’t it?”

  “You know that store?”

  “Store? You mean song,” I correct.

  “I mean store. Do You Hear What I Hear is a vinyl record store. I know it’s a little off the beaten path but worth the investment in time.”

  Honestly, this place is so damn weird.

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll keep that in mind.” Whoosh, it’s gone. “So, what do you like to read… Christmas Tales?” I tease.

  “Right now, I’m reading a biography about George Washington,” he says matter-of-factly.

  “Did he walk in the middle of the family living room and chop down their Christmas tree in your version?”

  “No. He chopped down a cherry tree. Don’t they teach history in New York schools?”

  “Of course they do.”

  “Then why is Washington destroying his family’s Christmas?” he asks.

  “He’s not.”

  “He just chopped down their Christmas tree.”

  “When?” I ask.

  “I don’t know, you said he did.”

  I shake my head. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did. A few seconds ago.”

  “I asked if your George Washington chopped it down.”

  “Do you think there’s more than one first president of the United States?”

  “No.”

  “Then why is yours chopping down a Christmas tree?”

  “He’s not.”

  “That’s not what you claimed.”

  “I didn’t claim anything.” I sigh. “Are you deliberately trying to confuse me?”

  “Are you deliberately rewriting history?” he asks.

  Folding my arms across my chest, I narrow my eyes.

  He narrows his back at me, and a sly smile rises from his mouth.

  “You’re messing with me again, aren’t you?” I ask, a little amused, mostly annoyed, and everything in-between.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Was it fun?”

  “It was.”

  “Are you finished?”

  “For now.”

  “Can we continue my tour?” This man is exasperating.

  “Sure.”

  “Good.”

  He holds up his index finger. “Just one more thing.”

  I blow out a quick breath. “What?”

  “The cherry tree story is a myth. It never happened.”

  Closing one eye, I look at him suspiciously. “What about the Christmas tree?”

  “I’ll let you know when I finish the book,” he says mischievously.

  “Thanks.”

  As we resume our walking tour, Nick continues to greet every pedestrian like he’s the mayor of Arid Falls. Gracious, friendly, confident, and full of swagger. There’s something about the way he carries himself.

  An incredibly sexy way.

  I know I shouldn’t have these thoughts, especially because I’m here to do business with him, but it’s my day off. Everybody knows there are no rules on Sundays. Look, don’t touch, is perfectly acceptable. I’m only human… and this specimen walking next to me is all man.

  A flash of heat fills my insides. I unbutton the top two buttons of my coat for a little relief.

  “Now you’re hot?” he asks, amused.

  What am I supposed to say? No, Nick, you are. And you’re making my nether regions tingle. And I hate this because I can’t seem to control my body’s response to your… heat.

  “Hot flash.” Sort of true. “Women and hormones.”

  That answer usually shuts down any further explanations… especially with a man. They assume I’m talking about my period, and they’ll do anything to drop that conversation.

  A sudden blast of cold air reverses the warming effect my lust-flash released, my loathing of cold weather returns, and I rebutton my coat.

  “That was quick,” he says.

  “Where’d that wind come from? Is there some sort of offshore breeze from a waterfall? Is that a thing?”

  He laughs. “Not unless you’re at the bottom of the Falls.”

  “Consider that one place we can skip on my tour.”

  “How about I take you to the lake?”

  My heart pounds rapidly, as warning sirens blare in my brain.

  No, no, no. We can’t go to the lake. I’ll have to come clean about who I am and why I’m here. As long as we remain downtown, I can keep that information to myself. And when I show up at his door tomorrow, I can play this off as a funny coincidence.

  “Don’t you have to pick up Noelle?” I ask.

  He takes a quick glance at his watch. “Carol said she’d walk her back to the inn. Noelle and my aunt are probably baking up a storm by now.”

  “I don’t want to put your aunt and uncle out. I’m sure they’re busy.”

  “It’s fine. They love having Noelle there.” He cocks his head to the side. “Is there something wrong?”

  “Of course not.” I try my best to hide my panic. “I just… I don’t want to be a bother. What about your business? Don’t you have a store to open?”

  “Someone works at the store on the weekends so I can run errands and spend time with Noelle.”

  Although he has his moments of monumental assholiness, freeing up his weekends for his niece is sweet. He’s been nothing but kind to me today, even a little funny. A pang of guilt rumbles in my gut. My harmless white lies and half-truths feel so… dishonest.

  That’s because they are, Summer.

  “Look, Nick, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  Chapter 11

  Just as my confession is about to spill out of my mouth, his cell phone rings. He holds up a finger, gesturing me to wait for a second, fishes the phone out of his pocket, and answers it.

  “Hey, Aunt Holly. What’s up?”

  As I wait to lay my cards out and confess why I’m really here, I hide my trembling hands in my coat pockets. I’m not prepared. Not even close. But if he’s going to bring me to the lake, where my company’s interest lie, I have to come clean. If I don’t, when I make my sales pitch, he’s going to call foul.

  “Sure. No, don’t worry about it. It’s not a problem. We were just finishing up here. See you soon.” He swipes the screen and stuffs his phone back into his pocket. “Sorry, there’s been a change in plans. My aunt needs some baking supplies for the afternoon tea at the inn. My uncle is swamped at the tree farm. I have to make a quick stop at Festive Food Market, then head back to the inn. Raincheck on the lake visit?”

  Hell yeah!

  “Sure.”

  “Great, thanks.” He places his hand on the small of my back and redirects us toward his parked car. “What was it you wanted to tell me?” he asks.

  “Oh, it was nothing.” Not going there until it’s absolutely necessary. “Let’s go shopping.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks.

  “Positive.”

  After a quick stop at Festive Foods, the only grocery store in town, we arrive back at the Holly Inn. Nick grabs two wicker baskets overflowing with granny smith apples from the backseat. I follow close behind, admiring how beautifully his jeans hug his ass.

  It’s still Sunday. Special rules remain in effect.

  “Thank you!” Holly exclaims gratefully, kissing his cheek. “You saved my apple turnovers.”

  “Happy to help,” he tells her. “Where’s Noelle?”

  “In the kitchen. We’re canning cranberry jam. I’ll send some home with you.” She turns to me. “Do you like what you saw so far?”

  Yes, your nephew’s ass is spectacular.

  “Yes, the shops
on Main Street are lovely,” I tell her.

  She smiles warmly. “They are, aren’t they? Impressive for such a small town.”

  “It sure is.” I smile back.

  “The only thing we’re missing is a cheese shop,” she sighs. “Our grocery store has such a limited selection. And there are so many different varieties of cheeses to sample. We need more cheese. Don’t you think?”

  Holl, there’s p-l-e-n-t-y of cheese going around this town.

  “Absolutely,” I agree.

  “Afternoon teatime is at 4:00. I hope you’ll join us.”

  “Maybe.”

  “She’s not going,” Nick states bluntly, staring down at me with a smug smirk on his handsome face.

  I glare at him. “You don’t know that.”

  “Oh, I do.” His confidence is annoying.

  “You think you know me?” I ask, placing a hand on my hip.

  “I know you’re not showing up for tea.”

  “I didn’t realize you hired yourself as my spokesman.”

  “She has an aversion to shared space,” he tells his aunt.

  “I had breakfast in that dining room this morning,” I point to the next room over. “Sharing space with you.”

  “Until the other guests arrived.”

  This S.O.B. notices everything.

  “That was a coincidence. I finished my breakfast.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” he hums skeptically.

  “You know what? You’re a…” Jerk. This guy frustrates the hell out of me. He raises an amused brow, waiting for me to finish my thought. I peek over at Holly, who’s grinning ear to ear, apparently enjoying our exchange. I regroup my thoughts before I stick my foot in my mouth again. “You’re mistaken.”

  He presses his lips together, pleased with himself, and nods. “I stand corrected.”

  “Okay, you two. I need to get back to my baking. Summer, I hope I’ll see you later. Nicholas—behave.” She grabs the baskets from Nick’s arms and returns to the kitchen.

  He turns to me until we’re facing each other and takes a step closer with a slow, sly smile. Electricity is in the air. It sizzles between us—that invisible charge that draws our bodies together. Trying to offset my uneasiness, I twirl a few strands of hair around my index finger.

  “So,” he says softly.

  “So,” I answer, rocking back and forth on the heels of my boots. “You like to start trouble, don’t you?”

  He wiggles his eyebrows.

  “Pest,” I whisper.

  Shaking his head, he smiles again. He leans in a little toward me, his eyes focused on my mouth, and stops himself. The lighthearted expression he just had turns serious. He takes a small step back, exhaling a short breath. “I should see if Kris needs me. Even with his part-time help, it gets pretty busy.”

  “Okay.” I nod, ignoring my racing pulse. “Thank you, Nick. For showing me around. And for yesterday.” I extend my hand out to him.

  He looks down at my hand and gives me a half-smile. “It was my pleasure.” Sliding his hand into mine, he gently squeezes it, holding on to it a little longer than a casual handshake. My heart flutters at the skin to skin contact.

  “Well, I… I guess I’ll go upstairs until my car arrives.” I pull my hand away and quickly tuck it into my pocket.

  He nods, never taking his eyes off mine. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  “Yeah.” I force a small smile. “Maybe.”

  “Until next time…” He gives me a quick wink and leaves the room.

  “Bye, Nick.” I stand in the lobby, alone and confused over what just transpired.

  “You have nothing to feel guilty about,” I tell my reflection in the mirror. “This is a delicate matter. I couldn’t come clean. The timing wasn’t right.” I plop down on my canopy bed and blow out a long breath. There’s no reason for me to feel this way. It’s got to be fatigue. Yes, the day after a travel day fatigue. It’s all caught up to me, and my emotions are messed up.

  I need guidance, a voice of reason—somebody reliable who can hear me out.

  I grab my cell phone and call Valerie. Val’s always good for some solid advice.

  She answers the phone on the first ring.

  “Who died?” she asks in a panic.

  “Nobody died. Why would you ask that?”

  “You never call me. We text. We gif. We emoji. We don’t talk on phones.”

  She has a valid point. We both hate talking on the phone.

  “No one died. I need some advice.”

  “Thank God.” She sighs in relief. “You had me all tensed up. I’m probably going to need a neck readjustment. Okay, lay your problem on me.”

  I tell Val about all that’s happened. From my car mishap to meeting Nick and his niece, to the tour of downtown.

  “And I don’t know how to approach the sale of his property,” I explain. “Meeting him beforehand threw a wrench in my original take no prisoners plan.”

  “How many lies did you tell?”

  “A few tiny white lies. Mostly, I omitted the truth. A lot.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing as lying?” she asks.

  “Technically, no. I don’t think so.”

  “Tell me more about this place.”

  “It’s small. Quaint. Quirky. There’s only one main road with a few mom and pop shops. The townspeople are super outgoing and overly friendly.”

  “Sounds disgusting.”

  I laugh. “It’s so strange. They stroll around in circles like they have nowhere in particular to go. I felt like I was walking through a neighborhood in a Sims game. Every person I’ve met is attractive. The whole town is full of good-looking men named something like Biff or Skippy. They probably don’t have jobs—they just sit around and take headshots all day. And that guy Nick, the one I have to convince to sell… he’s charismatic, funny, frustrating, infuriating, and he’s… Gah! So hot.”

  “Soap Opera star hot?”

  “No. Movie star hot.”

  “So, he’s a hot jerk with kid baggage. Well, at least you can admire him while you schmooze.”

  “I’ve been admiring him all day. I wish you could experience the unnatural fascination the men of Arid Falls have with hair gel.” I laugh. “I think Nick was the only person who wasn’t wearing his hair slicked back. I’m convinced the local barber only knows one hairstyle.”

  She laughs with me. “Ah yes, that Snap-on helmet hair. Lacquered locks. You can’t even run your fingers through that crunchy shit.”

  “The women of this town are also married to one hairstyle—soft, loose waves. I guarantee every household owns at least two wide barrel curling wands.”

  “All the women?” she asks skeptically.

  “Practically. Oh, and this town is obsessed with Christmas.”

  “It is Christmas time,” she points out.

  “No, this is a year-round obsession. It’s like they’re all drug addicts, and their drug of choice is Christmas cheer. I’m smack dab in the center of one of those cable Christmas romance movies.”

  “Really? I love that shit.”

  “Yes, really. The only thing missing is the romance part. Fruitcakes. Ugly sweaters. Caroling lessons. And they use wicker baskets in the grocery stores. Wicker baskets! It’s so damn wholesome—It’s just not natural.” I shake my head in disbelief. “All the stories I’ve heard, down to the tragic way people died all reference Christmas. Well, except for an unfortunate pumpkin homicide. Val, I feel like I’m inside a living snow globe.”

  “A snow globe, huh? Well, you know what to do. You’ve gotta shake it up, baby.”

  “I don’t know how. I mean, I thought I did, but…”

  “Just do you. Stick with your original plan. Don’t doubt yourself now. You got this.”

  “What about his niece?” I sigh. “I’m taking an orphan out of her home.”

  “Stop it. It’s a stupid building. When your apartment lease is up, you move to a new apartment. What’s the difference? A place to sleep is a
place to sleep. They can take the money, buy another house, and pocket the rest for school or clothes, or I don’t know—some frankincense and myrrh. You’re doing them a favor, Summer. That guy will never make that kind of bank working in Flaccid Falls.”

  “Arid Falls,” I correct.

  “I like mine better.”

  I chuckle. “Me too. Thanks for the pep talk.”

  “Anytime amiga.”

  Chapter 12

  The infamous Jeb, the tow truck driver, dropped off my car late in the afternoon—polite, flannelled out to the nines, and clearly hungover. The guy was like a die without the dots, just a blank cube. After assuring me that my rental was drivable and there was no real damage, other than two inches of mud caked on the back from my wheel spinning, I paid him in what little cash I had on hand.

  Because he “don’t do no credit cards.”

  The English major in me winced at his double negative, but he did me a solid, and for that, I’m grateful. I’ve spent the rest of the afternoon on my laptop, studying environmental tests made on the lakefront land we’ve already acquired. I’m hoping to find something that jumps out, like a higher than average ratio of some mystery mineral that might explain the general weirdness of this little town, but everything is within normal ranges.

  My stomach growls obnoxiously, and I peek at the time. No wonder, it’s after six. This girl needs food. I should have snuck downstairs and stole an apple turnover when I had the chance. I glance at my suitcase then shake my head. Ingesting another tasteless protein bar dinner is beyond unappealing. Tomorrow’s a big day. I have to fuel my body properly.

  I grab my handbag and car keys then slowly open my suite’s door, looking side to side for other guests. The coast is clear, so I tiptoe down the creaky stairs in search of some dinner.

  “Oh, there she is,” one of the sweater-wearing sisters calls out from the living room.

  Dammit.

  Caught.

  “Summer,” the other sister says. “Take a seat on the couch! You’re in for a real treat. Winter is about to play some original music for us.”

  Winter peeks up from the acoustic guitar he’s tuning and flashes me the peace sign.