Snowman

by AC Netzel

  I look at the sisters, fighting back my tears, and cock my head. “Her name is…”

  “Faith! Hope! I have a special treat! Fruitcake!” Holly bursts into the dining room, holding a silver platter with a dark cake bursting with disgustingly fluorescent-like red and green candied cherries and nuts.

  It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Oh my goodness!” one of the sisters says. “Fruitcake for breakfast?”

  “Live a little dangerously.” Holly wiggles her brows then turns to me. “Summer, would you like some?”

  “I would love some. Thank you, Holly.” Thank you so freaking much.

  Holly places the platter on the table and grabs a cake knife. “Who wants a slice?”

  “I bet Faith and Hope do.” I stare straight at Nick while not-so-subtly scratching my cheek with my middle finger in his direction.

  “Here you go, Faith.” She plates a slice in front of the taller sister.

  Tall Faith. Short Hope.

  Got it.

  Holly serves each of the remaining guests a slice, including Winter and his aggressive hippie wife.

  She places a plate down with an overgenerous slice in front of me with a sly wink. Oh my God—she saved me on purpose. And like the Grinch they think I am—my heart grows ten times bigger—for Holly.

  She watches eagerly as I take a generous forkful.

  “Mmm-hmm.” I nod as I chew this gift in front of me.

  “Do you like it?” she asks eagerly.

  “Holly, this is by far the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” This spiced concoction of dense, heavy as a brick, cake with dried currants, raisins, dates, and some unidentifiable chewy nuts is repulsive. But today…for this eternally grateful girl… repulsive tastes like victory.

  “Would you like a piece, Nick?” she asks.

  “No,” he snaps. “Thank you.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing,” I tease. “Isn’t that right, Hope?” I ask the shorter sister, rubbing in the fact that I know her name.

  Well, now I do.

  “It’s scrumptious,” Hope answers, closing her eyes as we witness her foodgasm.

  Tilting my head, I look at Nick and smile triumphantly. I may not have closed this deal just yet, but at least it’s still on the table.

  He scowls at me for a quick beat, then his rigid expression softens, and he smirks back at me.

  My smile grows into a wide grin. I’m not sure what I’m smiling about—The still alive deal, Holly coming to my rescue or Nick’s sexy smirk.

  And even though I still don’t have the signatures I need… standing on square one feels pretty damn good.

  “So,” I say casually, as I direct my attention to the sisters. “What do you think about my proposal?”

  They look at each other nervously, then side-eye Nick. “We’ll think about it.”

  “Okay. We’ll talk another time.” In my few years of sales presentations, experience has taught me when to push it and when to retreat. This instance is definitely the latter. I don’t want to damage any of the progress I’ve made.

  “That’s my cue to leave,” Nick says as he stands from his chair. “I have a store waiting for me.”

  My pulse quickens as I secretly soak him in… tall, rugged in a pair of faded jeans, and dripping in delicious. I inhale a deep breath and close my eyes briefly. I have to work on getting these dirty thoughts out of my head every time he’s near.

  “Everyone have a good day,” he says to my tablemates. “Summer, may I speak to you privately?”

  “Umm. Sure.”

  The sisters, hippies, and Holly wave and say their goodbyes to Nick as I grab my laptop and stand from my seat.

  “This way.” He gestures toward the small lobby area, waiting for me to pass in front of him. One thing I can say about Nick—he’s a gentleman—even to the enemy.

  After walking into the lobby, we stop in front of the small desk. Facing each other in silence, his blue eyes stare directly into mine. His nearness makes my senses spin. The gravitational pull I can’t escape whenever we’re alone intensifies as I fight my body’s irrepressible tendency to lean toward him.

  I must quash this unmistakable attraction. This is the man who just tried to sabotage the biggest deal in my career.

  “Did you ask me here to try to embarrass me again?” I ask, placing a hand on my waist.

  “I wasn’t trying to embarrass you. Faith and Hope should know that you and your company don’t care about us like you pretend to. You didn’t even bother to learn their names.”

  “Of course I did.”

  “Don’t lie to me. Holly saved you.”

  I sigh and shake my head. Everything he said is right, and I’m never going to admit it.

  “What do you want from me, Nick?”

  He pauses, his eyes roam my body as his tongue peeks out and wets his bottom lip. I know he feels it too—this crazy electricity between us. There’s something about this infuriating man that makes my body react in ways that are impossible to control.

  “Well?” I ask.

  He leans toward me. Oh my God, I think he’s going to kiss me.

  And I think I’m going to let him.

  His prickly stubble brushes against my cheek, sending indecent waves of lascivious ideas to my brain. My chest rises as I inhale a deep breath. This close proximity is dangerous to my career.

  “It’s never going to happen,” he murmurs in my ear, the gentle hum of his voice reverberating straight to my nether regions.

  “Can you be more specific?” I whisper breathlessly. The truth is, I’m not sure if he’s talking about this land deal or a kiss.

  “You’re never going to get our properties.”

  Okay, land deal.

  “Never say never,” I say softly. “I can be very persuasive.”

  I feel his smile against my cheek, and it makes me smile too.

  “Maybe.” He straightens up, takes a step back, and shakes his head. “But not this time.”

  “Your neighbors seemed p-r-e-t-t-y interested.”

  “They’ll never sign.”

  “Don’t be so sure. Your influence over them isn’t as solid as you’d like to believe.”

  “They’re being polite. Your sales skills aren’t as convincing as you think.”

  “Nervous, Snowman?” I arch a brow.

  “Not in the least, Sloane.”

  “Know what I think?” I ask, smiling.

  Tenderly, he tucks a loose lock of my hair behind my ear. It’s a small, intimate gesture that sends my pulse racing. I look down to the floor as heat fills my cheeks. This man is a walking contradiction. He hates me, he likes me, and I’m pretty sure he wants me.

  “What do you think?” He lifts my chin up with his index finger until we’re gazing in each other’s eyes.

  I think I want you to kiss me.

  “I think…” My voice is soft, and the realization that this isn’t a good idea strikes me. “I think you better go.”

  He pauses then gives me a quick nod. “You’re right. I probably have worm emergencies to address.”

  “I’m going back to my room.” I take a step back then walk toward the staircase, getting as far away from him as I can.

  “Hey, Summer,” Nick calls out.

  I turn. “Yes?”

  He looks intently at me. His gaze fixed on mine. “I’ll see you around.”

  I nod, forcing a small smile and head up the stairs.

  Chapter 22

  I shoot Miranda a quick email with a glowing report on my progress, informing her I had a productive breakfast meeting with all three property owners and made my presentation. Not a lie… although I did give a slightly rosier spin on what actually transpired. A little truth-stretching never hurt anyone. Anyway, whether Nick wants to admit it or not, I know I got the sweater sisters considering this deal.

  Staring out the window of the Mistletoe suite, my home away from home, I contemplate my next move. My nemesis, E
benezer the rooster, is strutting around the snow shoveled patio like Mick Jagger across a stadium stage. Why is he out of the chicken coop? He stops by a large stone, pecks at it, then humps it.

  “Ebenezer Spooge,” I laugh to myself. “You’re a horny little bird.”

  Going stir-crazy in this room, where the only entertainment is a wanton bird getting it on with a rock, I head downstairs to the common areas.

  Holly’s setting up for late afternoon teatime in the dining room. A triple-tiered silver platter stacked high with colorful Macarons is placed next to a wooden box filled with various tea bags in the middle of the credenza. Several floral-patterned porcelain teacups and saucers are located next to the box. A variety of finger sandwiches are elegantly positioned on paper doilies on top of a large silver platter on the opposite side.

  She sees me and smiles warmly. “Hi, Summer. You’re a little early for tea.”

  “I needed a change of scenery. I was getting a little antsy alone in my room.”

  She smiles again as she spruces up the flowers in the vase on the dining room table.

  “Can I help you with anything?” I ask.

  “I think that’s my question for you. You’re the guest here.”

  “You helped me enough already. You know—this morning.”

  She nods while she straightens out the straps of her frilly red bib apron.

  “Why did you do it?” I ask. “I thought you were angry with me… like everybody else here. You knew I couldn’t remember their names. You knew that would have blown up my proposal. And you helped me anyway. Why?”

  “I have faith that you’ll do the right thing.”

  “Holly, this project is good for everyone.”

  “Including you?” she asks.

  “Well… yes. I suppose it is. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there? I mean, we all get something out of it.”

  “What do you get?”

  “A promotion,” I answer honestly. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t believe in what I’m offering. I do think our proposal will benefit this area.”

  “Tell you what… take a few days. Really learn about Arid Falls. Immerse yourself in the community. Talk to the people. See us as more than a stepping-stone to a promotion… but for who we really are. Then make your proposal again, if you still believe it’s what’s best for this area. I’ll make sure they listen.”

  “Holly, I’m…” I shake my head. “I’m going to feel the same way.”

  “Maybe. Or just maybe you’ll discover something more rewarding than an advancement in your career.”

  “Like what?” I ask.

  “There’s a dance at our barn tonight.” Ignoring my question, she grabs a small plate off the table. “You should come. Lots of folks to mingle with.”

  “I was planning on turning in early.”

  She picks up a set of silver tongs and plates a few finger sandwiches on the dish.

  “See you at seven,” she says firmly as she hands the plate to me.

  This was not a request.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Before you ask… No one’s dead. No Pulitzers. My eyebrows are fine, and we’re not going to Cabo.”

  “Then why do you keep calling me?” Val huffs.

  “I need more advice,” I tell her.

  “What about this time?”

  “I’m going to a dance tonight.” I roll my eyes. “In a barn.”

  She bursts out into a laugh. “Oh my God, that’s so corny.”

  “I don’t want to go.”

  “So, skip it.”

  “Can’t. Holly’s making me go.”

  “Holly? The Lumberstud’s aunt?”

  “The very same. I have to stay on her good side. She has a ton of influence over these people. Anyway, she’s much kinder to me than I deserve, considering all the lies and half-truths I’ve dished out. She wants me there to socialize with the people who live here.”

  “Why?”

  “She thinks I’ll fall in love with this nutso Christmassy town, then go back to New York and tell Miranda the project is a bad idea.”

  “That’ll never happen.”

  “I know. I almost had two of the properties today. I was so close. It was just in my reach, then Nick showed up and ruined it.”

  “That guy’s a jerk.”

  “He threw a wrench in everything. Then flirted with me after. Well, I’m pretty sure he was flirting.”

  “Typical. Don’t fall for it. He’s using his studliness as a weapon.”

  “You think so?”

  “Absolutely. Like I told you before you left New York, people use sex all the time. He sensed you’re attracted to him and used it against you. I’d do the same.”

  “Oh. I thought…” I thought it was real. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

  “Do you really need his land?” she asks.

  “From what I can tell, we might be able to build around him. It’s up to the architects and planners, but I think it’s possible. Nick will be miserable living next to a huge condo community.”

  “His misery isn’t your problem. Poetic justice and all that shit.”

  I sigh. “I know.”

  “Summer?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Stop it,” she demands.

  “Stop what?”

  “Crushing on this guy.”

  “I’m not,” I insist. “He’s just… they’re all so nice here, that’s all.”

  “Are we going to have the nice talk again?”

  “I’d appreciate if we didn’t.”

  “Then put on your cowboy boots or whatever one wears to a hoedown and schmooze. Play it up. Bat your eyelashes, laugh at every bad joke, compliment everyone and anyone. Consider this your acting debut. You’re the greatest actress in the world. Tonight, you’re Meryl Streep. Go to this shindig and earn your Oscar.”

  “Okay,” I say, only half listening, as I struggle with my conscience. “I’ll do my best.”

  “You’ll do better than your best. You’re Streep dammit! Streep! The gold standard. Are you pumped?”

  “I guess so,” I say, unconvincingly.

  “What kind of crap answer is that? Own this, Summer,” she orders. “Who are you?”

  “Meryl Streep,” I mutter quietly.

  “Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” she says sarcastically. “Who?”

  “I’m Meryl Streep,” I shout into the phone. “The greatest actress in the world.”

  “You bet your ass, you are,” she says proudly. “Now, for your professional sanity—avoid the Lumberstud at all costs. He makes you stupid. Work on the other property owners, especially if they’re more open to selling.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I know. That’s why you call me.”

  “It is. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Are we done here? I have to do my hair and makeup before my back-adjustment appointment. I’m wearing a new bra to enhance the girls. I have to look my best for Dr. Sexy Chiro.”

  “We’re done. Have fun with that.”

  “You bet I will. You have no idea how good I feel after he manipulates my spine. I’m telling you, that man’s hands are golden.”

  I chuckle. “Bye, Val.”

  With too much time to kill combined with an abundance of nervous energy, I go to town with my large barrel curling wand. My long blond hair cascades perfectly down my back and around my shoulders in loose waves. I stare at my reflection in the mirror and laugh.

  I’ve become one of them.

  A little smoky eyeshadow and eyeliner to accentuate my blue eyes, a quick brush of blush, a fingertip smear of clear lip gloss, and I’m good to go. I stare blankly at the four pairs of shoes I packed. It took me twenty minutes to decide on a cream-colored knee-length flouncy skirt and a sky-blue sweater. I refuse to do the same for what I slide my feet in. My Lucky Choos try to seduce me as they always do, but I opt for my new lace-up boots instead.

  A long obnoxious growl rumbles from my stomach.
Finger sandwiches don’t exactly hold you over very long. I should have gone to the diner while I still had time. I wonder if they serve any food at a barn dance. There must be some refreshments, right? Even something as small as an Art Gallery opening always offers a wine and cheese platter.

  Maybe they’ll sacrifice Ebenezer and serve that motherclucker on a stick. I’d be first in line for that.

  Is there a cover charge to get into a barn dance? Should I bring money? I don’t want to lug around my handbag, so I tuck a little cash in my boot and peek at the time on my cell phone.

  Seven o’clock. It’s showtime.

  Back in New York, I normally wouldn’t leave my apartment for a night out until, the earliest, nine o’clock. Holly doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d appreciate a fashionably late entrance, so I open my suite’s door and head down the stairs.

  The dining room is dimly lit by an arrangement of flameless candles on the credenza and completely void of people.

  Eerie silence greets me as I stroll into the living room, not even the usual snaps and crackles from the fireplace fill the quiet space. No signs of Winter and his Christmas themed guitar strumming. There’s not a soul to be seen. I eye the popcorn garland hanging on the Christmas tree, and my stomach growls again. I wonder if Holly would notice if I sampled a few strands off the back of the tree.

  Probably not a good idea.

  Grabbing my coat off the hooks by the front door, I exit the inn and face the tundra head-on. Inhaling the cold air, I detect the scent of pine, snow, and oddly… cinnamon.

  Pretty sure in the two seconds my exposed skin hit the cold air, I already have frostbite. With my arms crossed across my chest, I walk at my usual lightning speed New York pace and follow the meticulously shoveled sidewalk around the building. Stopping in my tracks, I gasp when I spot the barn, wowed by its surprisingly stunning appearance.

  It’s adorned with hundreds of tiny white twinkling lights. The small frozen pond to its side is illuminated by colorful Christmas lights strung on the surrounding pine trees. About a dozen people are ice-skating in circles. On the other side is a fire raging inside a stone firepit encircled by weathered Adirondack chairs. The white gazebo glows in warm amber lighting.