by AC Netzel
“You said you were moving here. That’s not lying?”
“I never said that. I told you I was interested in buying property. You assumed I was moving here, but those words never left my mouth.”
“You didn’t correct anyone. You had plenty of opportunity over these past few days. Omission of the truth is still a lie, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself it’s not.”
“I tried to tell you while you were giving me a tour, but then your aunt called and…”
“Was this your plan all along? To get in our good graces before you swooped in for the kill?” he interrupts. “Gather information about us, trick us into trusting you, and use it for your gain? Did you really slide into a ditch the other night, or was that intentional? So you could learn more about me. Did you purposely choose my aunt’s inn to get closer to me?”
“No, I swear. How could I possibly know you’d be the person to help me the first day I got here? And I had absolutely no idea you had any association with the inn.”
“Save it, Summer. I’m not interested in hearing any more of your lies.”
“I never lied.”
“Don’t insult me. Do you think because I don’t have a white-collar job in New York, I’m a naïve fool?”
“Of course not.” Before I left New York, that’s exactly what I was counting on.
“Get out of my store.”
“Please listen,” I plea.
“There’s nothing you have to say that I’m interested in hearing.”
“Nick, be reasonable.”
“Leave.”
I huff out a sigh and remove my laptop from the countertop. He’s angry right now. Prior experience tells me that once he has a chance to ponder my offer, he’ll reconsider. I just have to wait it out a little longer. No one in their right mind would turn down the kind of cash we’re offering.
I raise my hands in surrender. “Fine. I’ll go. This isn’t the last of our conversation.”
“Yeah. It is.” His face is a glaring mask of fury.
I turn and walk to the front of the store. The door jingles when I open it as a blast of cold air hits my face. I twist around, taking one last glance of Nick, who looks like he’s on the brink of snapping every fishing pole in the store in half.
“I’m sincerely sorry you feel the way you do. It was never my intention. I hope you believe me,” I tell him. He stares at me, indifferent and silent. “Thank you for your hospitality. And for bailing me out… twice.”
“Goodbye, Summer.”
Pursing my lips, I nod. “Bye, Nick.” I turn back around, grab the door handle, and exit.
Chapter 18
Returning to the main house with my tail firmly tucked between my legs, I’m sick to my stomach. That exchange couldn’t have gone any shittier if I tried. At least when he threw me out, he banished me to a warm place to wait for my car instead of the tundra outside. One thing I can say about Nick… he’s kind, even when he’s angry.
I expected him to be surprised about my coming clean, but I thought for sure once I presented the offer and the bonus, he’d jump at it. Any reasonable person would. My God, what is wrong with that guy? A significant chunk of change just landed on his lap. Our initial offer was already over market value… to have that upped another twenty grand? That was a freaking gift.
Perhaps I made a slight misstep by dangling Noelle’s future in his face. I sincerely believe a cash windfall like that would benefit her too. She won’t be swimming in school loan debt for the next thousand years, like me.
I walk toward the floor to ceiling windows and stare out at the nearly frozen lake. Tiny is fishing off the dock, sitting on his cooler, looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Then again, knowing what I know now, looks can be deceiving.
There has to be something I can do to fix this. I can’t go back to New York without this deal. I may never have an opportunity like this again. The high-rise view I’m coveting may be completely different than the one I’m experiencing now, but it’s just as spectacular.
If I get this deal, I’ll finally feel validated.
It’s more to me than merely wanting it. I need it.
He may think he’s done with me… but this slow-motion community is no match for my tenacity and drive. Mark my words, I’ll have Nicholas Snow’s and the other two signatures by week’s end.
An hour later, Double-Negative Jeb finally shows up. I pay him in cash, accepting the handwritten notepad scribble as a receipt for my business expenses, and thank him as he leaves.
I take one last look at the lake and spot Nick at the end of the dock wearing a beanie cap and flannel jacket, talking to Tiny. He glances up at the house and spots me staring at him. Our eyes meet, and my heart races.
Even from far away, with a large pane of frosted glass separating us, I feel a connection—an energy between us. And it’s hitting me in all the wrong places… my heart, my soul… and worst of all… my tingling nether regions.
Unsure what to do, I stay rooted in my spot, searching for a signal from him. Slowly I uncurl my hand and offer a half-wave.
He turns his back on me and continues his conversation.
Bethany and I were reacquainted on the ride back to the inn. I caught her up on all that happened. She listened intently, occasionally interrupting my rambling thoughts with a direction order. I park my car—thankful another ditch didn’t swallow me and enter the inn.
Holly is standing behind the small wooden desk in the lobby area, reading over her guest ledger.
“Oh. Hi, Holly,” I chirp, disguising my dismay.
She looks up, purses her lips, and frowns when she sees me. “Miss Sloane,” she replies in a flat business-like manner.
Okay. Holly knows.
“I guess you spoke to Nick.”
“Why, Summer?” Her frown softens, the sorrow in her voice saddens me. The one thing worse than disappointing Nick is disappointing this sweet lady. There’s nothing more depressing than staring at an unhappy woman, with unraveling curling wand curls, wearing a Christmas tree sweater with slow blinking lights.
Dammit! Even her hair is sad.
“Holly, I…” I sigh, resigned. “It’s my job.”
“But you lied to us.” There’s not an ounce of anger in her tone. She’s hurt, and it breaks my heart that I’m the one who hurt her.
“I didn’t. Everyone assumed I was buying property to move here, but I never said that.”
She stares at me the same way my mom did when I lied about scribbling in crayon on the kitchen wall.
“Maybe I should have been more upfront,” I concede. “But I swear I never intended for things to seem so dishonest. It all kind of snowballed.” I stare down at the ledger on her desk because looking into her eyes while I blatantly lie would be too painful. I know my omissions were intentionally deceitful. The lines were blurred because I purposely blurred them.
“Big development will strip this town’s magic away. We’ll be like every other overpopulated tourist trap.” She grabs my hand, her worried eyes pleading. “Please, Summer. Don’t let that happen.”
I stare down at our hands, then slowly slip mine out of her grip. I swallow down my guilt, remembering that although in such a short time I feel like I’ve known these people my whole life… they’re only temporary. I’ll resume my life in New York, and they’ll go on living in this Christmas Wonderland without me.
“Consider the business it’ll bring to this inn,” I reason. “Hundreds of people coming to live in Arid Falls. Hundreds of more guests staying at the Holly Inn. You’ll be sitting on a big pile of money.”
She smiles politely. “Oh, sweetie, it doesn’t work that way. Money can’t replace magic.”
“You’ll see. Something special will come out of all of this,” I offer a tight smile to reassure her. “I promise.”
“I hope you keep that promise.”
“Of course. I’m going to my room now. I’m pretty beat from the car incident.” I muster up an
other small smile in a feeble attempt to comfort her. But the truth is, I don’t have a clue what’s going to happen after I’m gone. Once the sale is complete, I’ll move on to the next project.
I leave the lobby and walk up the stairs to my suite, purposely not looking back. I can’t face her disappointment any longer. Entering the mistletoe suite, I slowly close the door behind me, doing my best to be as quiet as possible. I don’t want anyone else to know I’m in the building.
Placing my laptop on the dresser, I stand frozen in my spot staring at my reflection in the mirror and witness the toll the day has taken out on me. I’m exhausted and defeated. Overwhelmed by the bounty of feelings I didn’t expect to experience, I exhale a long, shaky breath. My bottom lip quivers as I watch the tears roll down my cheeks.
Chapter 19
“Is somebody dead this time?” Val asks dryly.
“No.”
“Did you win a surprise Pulitzer?”
“No.”
“About to over-tweeze your eyebrows and need an intervention?”
“No.”
“Then why the hell are you calling me again? Your texting finger break?”
“I need someone to talk to, and you’re it.”
“Is it about that Lumberstud?”
“Yes. No. Sort of,” I answer, nervously picking at my titanium strength nail polish.
“Decisive answer,” she says sarcastically. “All that fresh air is dumbing you down.”
“Valerie,” I warn.
“Okay, what happened now?”
“I finally came clean and threw out my best sales pitch.”
“How’d it go?”
“Remember the first time you had sex?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Worse than that.”
She laughs. “I didn’t think worse was possible.”
“Oh, it is. It was a dismal failure. Now Nick hates me. His aunt hates me. And I kind of hate myself right now.”
“Who cares if they hate you?”
I lean back against the headboard of my bed. “I guess I do.”
“Well, cut the crap. You’re not there to win a popularity contest. Did he sell his house?”
“No. He kicked me out of his store.”
“Probably not a good sign.”
Running my fingers through my hair, I shake my head. “This place is hell. A Christmas Wonderhell.”
“No honey, it’s a sparkly purgatory with twinkling lights and decorated pine trees. It’s only temporary. Like the holding cell at the police station when you’re drunk. You’re just sleeping it off. When you wake up, things will be better.”
“I don’t know, maybe I should just go home and wait for Miranda to demote me—if she doesn’t outright fire me. I’m entirely out of my league here. I can’t figure out how to persuade these people. I wasn’t expecting to… Well, to like them. It messed up my game plan.” I exhale a long sigh. “I’m a complete failure. And it’s only Tuesday.”
“Oh no you don’t,” she scolds. “You’re not going to feel sorry for yourself. Keep your feet firmly planted in Christmas crazy-land and work on those people. If a foot can stomp on a grape and turn it into wine... You, my friend, can do anything. Aren’t there two other properties you want? Can’t you work on those people first?”
“Trust me. They won’t do anything unless Nick tells them to. They’re completely enamored with him.”
“Ahh, like you are.”
I swear I can hear her smirk through my phone.
“I’m not enamored,” I argue. “Look, I understand why these people follow him blindly. He’s kind, charming, and easy to talk to. He has this way of making you feel like you’ve known him your whole life. He’s like a human magnet, people are just drawn to him.”
“Like a cult leader?”
“No. Like someone you can trust won’t screw you. Like I just tried to screw him.”
“In your dreams, momma,” she teases.
“Val, mind out of the gutter. You know what I meant.”
“Yeah, I do. And as your best friend and confidante, I have some personal wisdom to share.”
“Good. I can use all the advice I can get.”
“I say this with nothing but love and respect,” she says sweetly.
“I know.”
“Here goes… What the freaking hell is wrong with you? Your entire professional life, you’ve worked for this golden opportunity, and you’re blowing it by turning into a blubbering imbecile over a guy. A guy you’ve known for four days. Unless he has a twelve-inch dick and a vibrating tongue, you need to forget that he’s a ‘kind’ man and look at him like the big, fat payday he is. You’re twenty-six, not thirteen. Stop crushing on the Lumberstud. Take out your vibrator if you have to, orgasm this strange fascination you have with him out of your system, and do your fucking job. Focus, Summer. Damn it, do I have to fly out there and slap some sense back into you? You know I will.”
“Please, don’t hold anything back,” I say flatly.
“You know I’m right.”
“I know.”
“Good to hear some sense is still in there. Now, tell me… What’s your plan?”
“I’m going to pretend today never happened. Show up again tomorrow, pitch the hell out of the sale, and get my signatures.”
“Good answer. Who are you?”
“The best damn dealmaker in the world.”
“And what’s the Lumberstud?”
“A big, fat payday.”
“Are you going to ignore his ‘kindness’ and go in for the kill?”
“Kindness is for suckers. Any and all resistance from him will be shot down and countered until he signs off.”
“That’s my girl,” she says proudly.
A renewed sense of strength returns to me, my shaken confidence newly invigorated.
“Hey, Val?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. I needed that.”
Sending a quick email update to Miranda, I assure her that everything is going great, I’m making fantastic headway, and really connecting with the people of Arid Falls. I know it’s not true, and I’m buying time, but I don’t want her to question her decision to send me here.
After much reflection, I decide to hide out for the remainder of the day. Out of sight, out of mind and all that jazz. Tomorrow’s a clean slate.
Grabbing my suitcase, I dig out a couple of cardboard-tasting protein bars and a crushed Kit Kat, bummed that I won’t get to experience teatime later this afternoon, or Merry’s cooking at the diner.
My mind wanders to the memory of Nick turning his back on me when he stood on the dock. The anger in his blue eyes, the disappointment written all over his handsome face, even from far away. Closing my eyes, I mull over how he rescued me from the ditch today because he didn’t want me cold and alone. I smile when I think about how my heart skipped a beat when his hand brushed across mine the other day at breakfast.
I rummage through the zipper pocket on the side of my suitcase, where I keep all essentials—emergency tampons, assorted bandages, tweezers, and Buzz Rocket.
When I’m not getting the big bang, which is often, enter Buzz Rocket. Buzz for short. Sounds like an astronaut, but it’s my nickname for my vibrator. I’ve yet to see stars, but I’ve orbited around the galaxy a few times.
Valerie may have a slight point.
I place Buzz on the nightstand next to my canopy bed.
Just in case.
Chapter 20
Prying my eyes open, I stare at the canopy above the bed. It’s Wednesday. I survived Tuesday’s missteps.
Last night’s attempt at sleep was spent mostly tossing and turning, my mind playing over everything I should have done and said differently. All rookie moves. Stretching my arms above my head, I ready myself to face another challenging day.
I turn on my side and face my nightstand. Buzz Rocket is still there, quiet and unused. I thought about it a lot but decided experiencing an orgasm to a Nick Snow vi
sual wasn’t the most professional route to go. Keeping my sex-starved libido and work life separate is imperative to my sanity. I don’t want to go soft again, no matter what I think about him personally.
After a quick shower, I throw on my navy-blue pinstriped pantsuit, wrap my hair up into a loose bun, a few tendrils framing my face, and head downstairs to breakfast.
Today is my do-over.
Familiar voices amplify with each step I take down the staircase, increasing the butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I pause at the last step, ignoring the wave of apprehension sweeping through me, and walk into the dining room.
Here goes nothing.
The matching Christmas sweater-wearing Jingle Belle sisters, who apparently have a bottomless sweater budget and whose real names I’ve forgotten again, are seated with their breakfasts in front of them, chatting and giggling with the Hippies seated across.
“Good morning,” I greet them with a welcoming smile, and my chin held high—a feeble attempt at displaying confidence.
Their conversation stops abruptly, and I feel four sets of eyes peering at me. Jingle… or Belle… whoever she is... clears her throat, raises her teacup, and takes a sip, never taking her eyes off me.
The other sister furrows her brow, giving me the Christmas stink-eye by narrowing one, then takes an aggressive bite out of her cinnamon roll.
Winter Hippie flashes me the peace sign. Mrs. Hippie whips her head around and throws a threatening glare toward her husband. That chick needs some heavy-duty crystals to adjust her chakra or something. He heeds her warning, slowly lowering his index finger until I’m re-greeted with the one-finger salute.
Word travels fast in this backward little town.
I’m a piranha—in the cheeriest place in the world—according to the nicest people in the world. That’s one hell of an accomplishment.
They think I’m the Grinch.
“I’m… I’m going to get some coffee.” I don’t know why I feel the need to explain what I’m doing to this table full of people who clearly don’t like me. But an open dialogue is key to success, even if it’s currently one-sided.