by AC Netzel
He’s so good for her.
Running ahead of him, she enters the inn through the kitchen’s backdoor. Nick stands alone on the patio and looks up at the house, directly at my window. I gaze back at him, inexplicably glued in my spot.
Our eyes lock, sending my heart fluttering. I reach for the rod to close the wooden blinds, but I can’t bring myself to shut them.
“Hurry up, Uncle Nick,” Noelle yells from the house.
He looks at the door and nods, then up at me again. With an amused smirk, he gives me a quick wink then walks into the inn.
I stare at the empty space he vacated where only their footprints remain and exhale a long sigh.
Sitting on my canopy bed and staring at the empty dresser has proved to be a poor solution to clearing out my head. I grab my cell phone off the nightstand and call Val.
“Are you sick?” she asks, concerned.
“No.”
“Kidnapped? And this is the ransom call?”
“No.”
“Billion-dollar lottery winner, and you’re taking me to Cabo to celebrate?”
“No.”
“Then why the hell are you calling?” Her irritation is unmistakable.
“He invited me to pick out a Christmas tree with him.”
“Who?”
“Nick.”
“The Lumberstud?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“No, with his niece. I bumped into them in town.”
“Oh, cool. So… how was it?”
“I didn’t go.”
“Did you step in a steaming pile of stupid over there? You just blew a chance to butter him up.”
“I couldn’t. It felt too… intimate.”
“You’re picking out a tree, not his underwear.”
“I know, but…”
“But what? You screwed up a great opportunity, Summer.”
“I can’t mix personal with business.”
“Business is personal.”
“Oh God, I’m messing this up, aren’t I?”
“No. It was a minor fumble. You’re going to take a deep breath and reset. You got this, amiga.”
“Okay, I got this,” I repeat unconvincingly, as I bring my thumb up to my lips.
“Stop biting your thumbnail,” Val reprimands.
“I wasn’t.” My nail scrapes against my teeth as I pull my thumb away from my mouth.
“Liar,” she laughs.
“I’m going to pull this off, right? The sale, the promotion?” I ask, desperate for assurance.
“Promise, you will. Now, go and get it.”
“Thank you, Val. I will.”
Chapter 15
It’s a new day, and I’m focused. No shoe shopping pitstops, no attempts at fruitcake bribery. I’m heading straight from Point A to Point B.
Clicking the radio off, I turn up the volume on my cell phone. I need to concentrate on where I’m going without any distractions. My GPS is running the show. My hands are gripped tight around the steering wheel as I navigate through the land of white-knuckle driving. This place is winding road after winding road—like I’m driving through someone’s small intestines.
“In a quarter mile, stay left,” my GPS instructs in a detached, feminine, flat tone.
I’ve become well acquainted with my GPS while driving in the middle of nowhere. I’m entirely at her mercy. We’ve become fast friends.
I named her Bethany… because crazy in this town is contagious, and I think I caught some. Besides, it’s nice to have a familiar voice on your side.
“Don’t worry, Bethany. I got this,” I tell my phone while reassuring myself. I pass the serial killer woods toward the lake area and cringe. For such a cheery place, it’s scary as hell.
“Yesterday, I couldn’t tell the Jingle Belles why I’m really here. And this morning at breakfast, I kept all conversations to polite small talk. Throwing out a sales pitch to the Nick Snow Fan Club would get me nowhere fast. And I’d more than likely make a few enemies,” I reason with Bethany, pretending she’s nodding and listening intently. “These people are Super Fans, their admiration for him is obsessive. They probably have an image of his face cross-stitched and bedazzled on a Christmas sweater.”
I look down at my phone. “I know when to quit.”
Bethany guides me to another icy street. Road salt, people. Use it. I slow my speed considerably, remembering how much the deer population like to recreate Frogger and jump out in front of moving cars. I peek to the side of the road and shake my head.
They should rename this town Ice and Ditches.
“And no, I wasn’t a coward for hiding out in my room for the rest of yesterday. After bumping into him and Noelle, a pitch would have been a huge mistake,” I tell my phone. “I mean, what was I supposed to say? Here, buy this dress—and while you’re signing your credit card receipt, can you sign this sales contract too?”
I pass a wooden sign to my left.
Arid Lake—One Mile
Below the words is a hand-painted Santa fishing in a kayak. A Year-Round Sign. With Santa. I was right… this town is brimming with Christmas crackpots.
The GPS instructs me to make a right, so I turn.
“Recalculating,” she says with her signature uninterested tone. I swear if it were human, its eyes would be rolling while it yawned.
“Son of a bitch.” I peek at the map on my screen and discover the turn was supposed to be the next right. “Your directions could have been a little clearer,” I snap. I have no interest in driving in a long twisting circle just to return to the place I already am.
Thankfully, there’s no oncoming traffic, and I make a U-turn. My maneuver is almost complete when…
“Shittttttttt.”
My rear tire skids on a patch of ice. In a split second, the car drifts to the side of the road, heading straight toward the trees. Frantically, I steer the car away from falling in another ditch.
That I just landed in.
My heart beats wildly in my chest while my hands tremble. I take in a few deep breaths, soothing my now tensed-up muscles. I look down at the car’s console, where my phone is displaying a digital map. The fear I had less than a second ago is replaced with rage.
“What the hell, Bethany?” I yell at my cell phone.
“Recalculating.”
“Why? Why? Why?” I pound my forehead on the steering wheel three times. Side-eyeing the serial killer woods, I pray no killer clowns creep out from the trees they’re hiding behind.
I press the gas pedal, and my rear tire spins in circles in the hole I’m currently lodged in. Drive, reverse, drive, reverse. This same old, same old crap is getting tiring.
Angrily, I snatch my phone and shut off my ex-friend Bethany. I can’t talk to her right now. Scrolling through my contacts, I’m unable to find anyone on the list to call. They’re all in New York, having a better time than me. I search my handbag, hoping to find Jeb the tow driver’s receipt. That should have a number.
No luck. I guess I have no choice but to contact the police.
Wait! There’s one person I can get a hold of. I phoned her once while still in New York. I scroll through my call history and press “Call.”
“Deck the halls, and thanks for calling.” She actually sang that. “This is Holly at the Holly Inn. How can I help you?”
“Um, hey, Holly. This is Summer Sloane.”
“Summer!” she exclaims. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
“I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Of course not. I was just stringing popcorn garlands.” Of course she was. “What can I do for you?”
“My car,” I sigh, embarrassed that this happened again. “My car slid into another ditch. I’m stuck.”
“Goodness,” she says. I swear I heard her hand slapping her cheek when she said it. “Are you all right? Did you get hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”
“I’m fine. I need some help getting out. I misplaced the tow driver’s number. I was hoping
you have it.”
“Where are you?
Squinting my eyes, I read the street sign a few feet ahead. “White Dove Lane… I think.”
“Oh, you’re near the lake. I’ll call Nick.”
“No.” Of all people in the world—please not him. “I don’t want to be a bother. Just give me the number. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Are you sure? I’m certain he wouldn’t mind. He’s not far from you.”
“Positive.”
Begrudgingly, she gives me the number, we hang up, and I call my old pal, Jeb.
His phone line has been busy for the past fifteen minutes. I’m about to abandon all hope and call the cops when I finally get through. He tells me I’m fourth in the tow line. To speed things up, I request the phone number of the other towing company, offering a finder’s fee for the info. But that truck is third in line of vehicles Jeb is towing.
It’s stuck too.
In a ditch.
There must be hundreds of cars in ditches lining the streets of this icy little town.
I surrender to my fate and wait, debating if I should turn Bethany back on for a little company. Then I remember, she’ll have nothing to talk about while we’re standing still.
Anyway, we’re not on speaking terms.
After eating my last two remaining Kit Kat bars at the bottom of my handbag, I recline my chair and close my eyes, preventing me from staring at what’s lurking deep in the serial killer woods. Buttoning my coat to the top button, I listen to the tree branches snap and crash to the ground from the weight of ice encased around them. I’m strangely lulled by the sounds of this winter wonderland until a loud knock on the driver’s side window startles me.
“Holy crap.” My eyes spring open, and I jolt up in my chair. This place is giving my heart a workout because it’s about to burst out of my chest. I look to my side and see a familiar face smiling smugly on the other side of the window.
“Damn you, Holly,” I mumble under my breath. I turn the ignition key and roll down my window.
“Summer,” he says, amused.
“Hello, Nick.”
Chapter 16
“Another deer jump out in front of you?” He arches a brow.
Oh, what I’d give to wipe that smirk off his face.
“Not this time,” I answer flatly. “Are the local towing companies digging ditches on the sides of every street in town to drum up more business? This isn’t normal.”
He laughs. “No, bad drivers seem to find them easier than most.”
“I’m an excellent driver,” I insist. “It’s this place. As a matter of fact, there’s a tow truck currently stuck in a ditch as we speak.”
“That’d be Axel. He’s a terrible driver.”
“Isn’t driving his profession?”
“Yup,” he answers without an ounce of irony. “Why don’t you gather up your things. Jeb is going to tow your car to my house.”
“I didn’t tell him to do that.”
“I did. It’s too cold to sit out here and wait for him.”
That’s a pretty ballsy move, buddy.
“Thanks, but that’s not necessary.” Damsel in distress isn’t the vibe I’m looking to give off today.
“The inside of that car of yours is going to get a whole lot colder.”
“I’ll run the engine and turn the heat on. I’ll be fine.” I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.
He leans back, peeks at the rear of my car, shakes his head, then straightens himself out.
“I wouldn’t do that,” he says, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“Why not?”
“Your exhaust pipe is blocked. Carbon monoxide will build up inside.”
Damn this place. I can’t catch a break.
“How long did he say it would take for him to get here?” I ask.
“At least an hour and a half. Knowing Jeb, much more. He’s not exactly a fast mover.”
I puff out a breath, a few strands of my hair fly up in the air. I’m already freezing, and I haven’t been here that long. For as much as I hate to admit it, he’s right.
“Fine.” I gather up my handbag and laptop case lying on the passenger’s side seat and roll my window back up. Picking up my cell phone, I hold it up to my mouth. “This is your fault, Bethany,” I whisper to the phone before opening the door.
Nick extends his hand to help me out. Accepting his assistance, I slide my hand in his and feel…
Things I shouldn’t feel.
Tingly, warm things.
“Thanks,” I say, ignoring my racing pulse.
“Who’s watching your shop?” I ask, as he expertly weaves around yet another winding road.
“No one.”
“Really?” I frown. “You closed it so you could pick me up?”
“I’m only a few minutes away. I hung a sign on the door. If anyone needs me, they’ll wait.”
“You left your business… for me?”
He glances at me for a quick beat then nods. “I’m not about to let you freeze out here alone when I could easily get you.”
“But you hardly know me.”
“I know enough,” he says softly.
His actions completely surprise me. I’m not used to this level of genuine kindness.
Merry the waitress was right.
He’s a good man.
And I feel like shit because he doesn’t know me at all. All he knows is what I’ve wanted him to see.
“Nick?”
“Yeah?” he answers, staring straight ahead at the road in front of us.
“Thank you.”
He looks at me and smiles. “You’re welcome.”
We turn down a long, snow plowed driveway. A densely wooded pine forest is on either side, but the sunshine filters through the trees and hits the snow in such a way to make it look like it’s sparkling. We pull up to the house, and my jaw nearly drops.
The tiny, run-down hovel I pictured Nick living in was dead wrong. This house is impressive. And pretty damn big. Dark cedar shingles line the top floor, and remarkable boulder-sized river rocks cover the first. The front porch extends from end to end with a porch swing and two chairs. Just like the Holly Inn. It’s rustic but in a good way… not the distressed way I’ve imagined.
I was so caught up in the size of the lot of his land, I never bothered to learn about the house sitting on it.
Probably because it didn’t matter. We’re going to knock it down anyway.
A snowman, three giant snowballs high, complete with a carrot nose and stick arms sits in the middle of the front lawn with a child-sized igloo built to the side of it. Strings of lights are strung branch to branch on a sizeable spruce-fir on the opposite side of the snowman. I smile to myself when I spot two sets of footprints leading from the front porch to the wintery scene on the snowy lawn, knowing they likely belong to Nick and Noelle.
The driveway circles to the side of the house, leading us to a two-car garage. Nick clicks a button clipped onto the car’s sun visor, one door rises, and we pull in.
“This isn’t what I pictured,” I say, as the astonished state I’m in fades away enough to allow words to escape my mouth. “At all.”
He turns to me, tilting his head slightly. “What did you picture?”
Grass hut? Fancy tent?
“I don’t know. Your house is… beautiful.”
“You haven’t seen the inside. You may change your mind.”
“Highly doubt that.”
He chuckles. “Ready, Miss Sloane?”
“Sure am, Snowman.”
We walk through the inside garage door and enter his kitchen. Holy gleaming stainless-steel appliances. Cherry wood cabinetry is undoubtedly custom-made and absolutely spectacular. I think I could fit my entire body in a few of the cabinets. The small gold flecks in the otherwise beige granite countertops sparkle where the kitchen lighting beams on it.
I turn around and face a wall of windows that overlook a remarkabl
e lake view.
“Wow,” I say as I walk from the kitchen through the open concept living room area to the floor to ceiling windows. I turn to Nick, who’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest, watching me. “This view is… it’s amazing. Why would you ever leave your house?”
“To help out people stuck in ditches,” he deadpans.
Narrowing my eyes in his direction, I ignore his snarky response, turn back around, and soak in more of this gorgeous scene in front of me. Four white Adirondack chairs on a stone patio circle around a firepit. In the distance, there’s a metal canoe parked on the shoreline, right behind a small dock. Thick foliage of pine trees and mountains encircle the vast lake. The water is still and from what I can see, mostly frozen, like an endless sheet of frosted glass. The surrounding trees’ reflections are mirrored on the tranquil water. A sense of peace washes over me as I witness what I know is something special.
Their Christmas tree is lit with slow blinking multicolored lights in the corner of the living room. It’s tall and full of old-fashioned silver tinsel dangling off the tips of the branches, filled with gold and silver glass balls and tons of homemade ornaments.
The fireplace mantel is adorned with thick pine garland with white lights and flocked pinecones. Two stockings with Nick and Noelle’s names embroidered on top are hung on either corner.
“How long have you lived here?” I ask while my back is still to him.
“Two years.”
Okay, that’s not too long. He doesn’t have that much history with this property. How many memories can you make in such a short time? I feel a little better about that.
“I bought it after my brother and his wife died. Thought it’d be better if Noelle and I started out in a new place.” He pauses for a beat. “One without so much pain attached.”
He purchased this house to heal a brokenhearted little girl.
And I’m going to bulldoze it.
I look down to the floor, ashamed and embarrassed about why I’m here. Uncomfortable with the way I’ve gone about it. My white lies and my half-truths. They deserve better. It’s time to come clean before I learn any more about this man, and I leave without doing my job.