Snowman

by AC Netzel

  “Looks like she’s having a good time,” I tell him.

  He glances at her and smiles. “She loves these community events. She gets to goof around with her classmates outside of the classroom.”

  “And you? Do you like coming to these events?”

  “I don’t mind them. Since Noelle came to live with me, it’s a different experience. Good different. She’s a real social butterfly, and I love to watch her spread her wings and fly.”

  “You’re really good with her.” I reach over and take hold of his free hand.

  A shy smile rises from his mouth as he looks down at our hands. “Most of the time, I don’t know what I’m doing.” There’s a vulnerability in the tone of his voice that touches me deeply.

  I peek across the room at Noelle, who’s now running in circles around a table with three other girls and remember our chat a little while ago.

  “From what I’ve seen, you’re doing just fine,” I assure him.

  “Thank you.” His long fingers interlock with mine, and he gives my hand a gentle squeeze.

  I glance down at our laced fingers, a perfect fit, and my stomach does a backflip. There’s something uniquely special when we hold hands. It’s an intimate, innocent gesture that expresses everything we can’t.

  And it feels perfect. So very, very perfect.

  But it’s not.

  It can’t be.

  Clearing my throat, I uncurl my fingers from his, separating our skin on skin connection, and wrap it around the cup in my hand.

  “Don’t want to spill my drink,” I explain.

  He nods, aware of my lie. But he lets the lie hang between us because the truth isn’t an option.

  Not for us.

  Leaning against the wall again, I stare straight ahead. Desperate to look anywhere but at him. The locals dance and carry on like they’ve been friends for life. Maybe they have. Kris has his arm wrapped around the shoulder of another white-whiskered man with a happy grin splashed across his face. Could be a relative. Maybe it’s Santa himself. I wouldn’t put it past this town. The Jingle Belles are on the opposite corner of the barn, whispering to each other. Most likely gossiping—probably about Nick and me.

  Noelle and her friends hold hands, giggle, and dance in a circle. Jeb is following Ever around the room like a lost puppy. The poor guy is going to end up going home tonight with his balls so blue, he’ll have to ‘polish his ornament’ for some relief. Holly, in her customary red apron and mammoth pearl strand, seems to have divided herself into four, hostessing the mostessing everywhere I look.

  This is a real community. Quirky and strange, no doubt. But unified and charming beyond words.

  I gaze up at the ceiling of the barn, following the lines of white lights down each wooden beam. I never imagined it was possible to transform something as ordinary as a grimy old barn into something so breathtakingly beautiful.

  How does the condo project fit into this place? Would it overpower the magic playing out in front of me and crush it? There’s no way it’d enhance it. That much I know.

  What I don’t know is why I care.

  It’s not my job to care. I’m here to acquire something. Three signatures. Three properties. The aftermath isn’t my problem. It’s theirs… these strangers. The strangers who’ve made me feel more welcome in the few days I’ve known them than I do at home.

  “Something wrong with your drink?”

  “Huh?” Blinking my eyes a few times, I snap myself out of my wandering thoughts.

  “Your cocoa. You haven’t touched it.” He points to the steaming cup in my hands.

  “No offense, but I was hoping for something a little,” I tilt my head right to left, “stronger. You know, something with a little… kick.”

  I want B-O-O-Z-E. Boozy, booze, booze. Al-co-hol. Hooch. Hell, Jeb probably owns a still. I’ll take a swig of moonshine if I have to. I’ll drink anything to take the edge off.

  He raises a brow and nods. “Gotcha. I know just what you need.”

  “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem. Be right back.”

  He takes my cup of cocoa and heads to the beverage table. I stay behind, politely smiling and chatting with whoever stops by. Like it or not, I’m still on the clock, even when I wish I weren’t.

  Nick returns, holding a new disposable cup. “Careful. It’s hot,” he says.

  Hot hooch? Sounds gross, but I’ll take what I can get.

  I take the cup from his hands, our fingers briefly brushing against each other, and goosebumps prickle up my arms. Ignoring my body’s reaction to our short-lived connection, I look down into my cup and frown.

  “What’s this?” I ask, staring at the long cinnamon stick sticking out of the drink.

  “Cider,” he says.

  “Hard Cider?” I ask, hopeful.

  “Apple Cider.”

  “With whiskey?”

  “No.”

  “Rum? Brandy?”

  “No.”

  My shoulders slump, and I exhale a breath. “So, no alcohol?”

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “No. Try it. It won Best Cider at the State Fair four years in a row.”

  Another award winner? I never would have guessed.

  I take a small sip. The combination of apple and cinnamon is remarkable, richer than apple juice, with nutmeg, cloves, and some other spices. It’s considerably better than the instant cider mix I’ve emptied in cups of boiling water my whole life.

  “Holy shit, this is good,” I tell him as I take another sip. “Is there some orange in this too?”

  “Yep.”

  “Who made this miraculous concoction? I want to marry them.”

  “Jeb.”

  “Jeb? Are you kidding me? This is liquid brilliance.”

  He laughs. “Should I tell him to get ready for a wedding proposal?”

  Shaking my head, I swallow another warm mouthful. “Please don’t.”

  I lean against the wall once again with Nick joining me. Silently we sip our ciders. I spot Jeb and Ever dancing together. It looks like they’re dancing to two entirely different songs. Merry is doing the G-rated version of dirty dancing with some porn-stached bald guy who’s built like a tank. This guy is pure muscle, shoulders, and torso. His pants are so tight, I clearly see the outline of his yule log. And I swear he has no neck. The only thing holding up this dude’s head is courage.

  “Want to get some fresh air?” Nick asks.

  “Sure.” I straighten up, careful not to spill my drink.

  He places his hand on the small of my back as we grab our coats then exit the barn. We walk side by side toward the blazing firepit.

  “Are you cold?” he asks.

  I shake my head, warmed by the crackling flames and the heat between us.

  Looking up to the sky, I marvel at the tall pine trees caressing the stars. Short of the Hayden Planetarium, I’ve never witnessed a sky like this. An endless blanket of thousands of vibrantly lit stars twinkle in the dark, cloudless sky like Christmas lights do here on earth. It’s so utterly beautiful, it doesn’t look real.

  “Wow. We don’t have skies like this in New York,” I say in wonder. “There are so many bright stars. Isn’t it amazing?”

  “Honestly, when I’m next to you,” he gazes at me, his expression serious as he glides his finger down my cheek, “everything else seems to dim.”

  I swallow hard and look up at him, deeply touched by the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Nick asks, placing his cup of cider down on the arm of one of the Adirondack chairs encircling the firepit.

  “Talk about what?” I stare down at my feet and kick a small rock.

  “What’s going on between us.”

  My stomach flips, and my pulse quickens. Purposely avoiding eye contact, I continue to stare down at my boots.

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” I tell him.

  With his index finger, he gently
lifts my chin up. I look into his blue eyes. His expression is thoughtful, his eyes soulful. “We both know that’s not true.”

  “We got caught up in the moment. It wasn’t real.”

  “It felt real to me.” Tenderly, he caresses my cheek with the back of his hand. “Summer?”

  “Yes?”

  “I want to kiss you.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why.” He strokes my bottom lip with his thumb. Slowly back and forth, back and forth. His gaze drifts between my eyes and my lips.

  He’s right.

  I do know why.

  We’re seriously attracted to each other. The candy cane was the tease, the dance was foreplay, and our bodies crave more. Something physical to appease this silent ache.

  And my heart sinks because I know what I have to do.

  “Nick, it… it wasn’t real. Not for me.” My lie pains me, regret instantly pulses through my body. Truth is, it was very real. Too real for comfort. “I thought we were joking around.”

  Another lie. But what’s the use in acting on our attraction? No matter how much I want to—I’m not a one-night-stand kind of girl, especially with a client. Besides, there’s no chance of a future between us. Once I get what I came for, I’m out of here.

  He takes the cup of cider from my hand and places it on the arm of the chair. There’s no longer anything between us, no barrier. I’m unprotected, vulnerable to our truth, dismayed by my dishonesty, my nerves uneasy. He faces me, his blue eyes troubled, and gently places his hands on my arms.

  “I thought we,” he begins, but I cut him off before he finishes.

  “No.” I shake my head.

  His gaze bores into me like he’s searching for the truth in my eyes. The truth I continue to conceal.

  “Okay.” He drops his hands to his side and takes a step back. “If that’s the way you feel.”

  “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I really am.”

  With a tight smile, he gives me a tense nod. “It’s getting late. I’m going to find Noelle. She has school tomorrow.”

  “I’m…” I’m lying. I want you too. “Thank you for the drink.”

  “Anytime. Goodnight, Summer.”

  “Goodnight.” Crushed and angry with myself, I barely get out the word.

  Watching Nick walk into the barn, I wait for him to look back. But he doesn’t. I continue to stare at the closed barn door until my vision blurs by the tears brimming in my eyes.

  Chapter 25

  “Don’t you have any other friends you can bother?” Valerie asks, annoyed.

  “None with your advanced degree of wisdom,” I deadpan.

  “I’m rolling my eyes.”

  “I know.”

  “Now they’re behind my brain,” she tells me, “bouncing back and forth.”

  “Must be uncomfortable,” I say dryly.

  She sighs. “So, what’s your issue with the Lumberstud this time?”

  “How do you know I’m calling about him?”

  “Because I’m a friggin’ genius. Just spill it so I can get some sleep.”

  “I think I hurt his feelings.”

  “So?”

  “So… it feels horrible.”

  “This conversation is already insane. How did you hurt his feelings?”

  “We flirted with each other at the barn dance. We crossed a line, and things got a little… dirty. Then we danced, and something changed. He was holding me really close, and things between us felt pretty intense. He told me he wanted to kiss me. And I wanted him to. If we were alone, I have no doubt we would have… you know.”

  “Summer, I’m begging you. Do us both a favor and screw him already.”

  “You know I can’t do that. Anyway, he wanted to address what was happening between us. I lied and blew it off like it was all a big joke on my part.”

  “That was cold.”

  I exhale a long breath. “Val, what I said couldn’t be further from the truth. But what am I supposed to do? I can’t sleep with him.”

  “But you want to.”

  “Unfortunately, yes. And it’s more than his looks. I like him. And it sucks. I was happier when I hated him.”

  “For your own sanity and mine—turn on the pressure, get the damn sales, and get the hell out of there. Work on those old ladies. They’ll sign.”

  “I think they might,” I agree.

  “Get them first.”

  “What about Nick?”

  “He’s a big boy. Stop worrying about him. Give him a final offer. If he resists… leave. You’ve done all you can. Let your company figure out its options.”

  “That’s if he’ll talk to me.”

  “You’re in charge. If you want to talk to him—find him and talk to him. Don’t take no for an answer. But after that—get the hell out of there. Please. I can’t take any more late-night phone calls.”

  “You’re right. Holly wanted me to hang around a few days, but I can’t stay here any longer. Tomorrow I’ll approach the ladies and make my final pitch.”

  “Good. Then come back to New York, put this all behind you, and be normal again.”

  A reluctant chuckle escapes me. “After being here, normal would be a refreshing change.”

  “Good. See you soon. Oh, and Summer?”

  “Yes?”

  “Meryl is very disappointed in you.”

  “Goodnight, Val.”

  I shoot an email to Miranda, bringing her up to speed with my progress. I left out a boatload of unprofessional details. I’m presenting my final pitch tomorrow. Staying here indefinitely is not an option. It’s not good for me professionally or personally. I don’t know what my employment status will be if I don’t get this deal. I know for sure I’ll kiss goodbye the office with a view I’ve been salivating over. At this point, I’d be happy if I don’t get demoted…or worse.

  Then again, I’m not alone in this. Others have tried and failed, and they’re still employed.

  I think.

  My plane reservation for tomorrow night was made after I hung up with Val. I’m committed. By this time tomorrow, I’ll be sleeping in my own bed. And these past few days will either be my greatest victory, or a dismal failure.

  Walking over to the window, I stop and look up at the sky, marveling at the thousands of twinkling stars. The same stars Nick and I shared two hours ago. It was hard enough when we had a simple physical attraction to each other and a little harmless flirting.

  But when we danced, it all felt so perfect. I loved being in his arms. And I hate that I loved it. When we were outside together, things felt different. The way he looked at me wasn’t lustful. There was more. Much more.

  There was magic.

  And I ruined it with a lie.

  Shaking my head as I close the blinds, I know I have to get out of this headspace. It’s not good for my career. It sure as hell isn’t good for my sanity. I hop into bed and stare at the lace canopy above me. The intricate pattern of delicate flowers is captured for eternity in a silky white threaded web. That’s how I feel—like I’m caught in a web. I’m the flower, and the web I’m stuck in is an affection that I shouldn’t have about people I shouldn’t care about.

  Especially him.

  I turn off the lamp on my nightstand and close my eyes, hopefully retiring to an exhausted sleep.

  But it’s impossible. I’m tense, and I can’t stop overthinking. In these few days, this strange town full of Christmassy crackpots has inserted themselves, uninvited, into my thoughts.

  I close my eyes and remember how incredible it felt when Nick brushed his thumb across my bottom lip. Carnal cravings coursed throughout my body. I think back to how my heart leaped when he told me he wanted to kiss me. Damn, if those weren’t the sexiest words ever spoken.

  Valerie is right. I have to leave.

  There must be something I can tap into to quiet my brain and get some desperately needed rest. After thirty frustrating minutes of tossing and turning, I pull the blankets over
my head, flip myself over, and scream into my pillow.

  “Ughhhhhh.”

  Then I remember something to help take the edge off. I flip back around and reach across the bed to the nightstand drawer where Buzz Rocket is safely hiding out.

  “Look, Buzz,” I whisper. “You have brand new batteries, so let’s make this quick—before you-know-who’s face becomes my visual.”

  “Motherclucker,” I groan, as Ebenezer cock-a-doodle-do’s me awake yet again. Do they make muzzles for tiny beaks? At least this is the last time he’ll wake me. I turn my head and spot Buzz Rocket motionlessly laying on top of my nightstand. Traitor. Yeah, it got me where I needed to go. And yeah, the edge was taken off, I slept like a rock.

  But it wasn’t quick enough to stop Nick from making an appearance. And holy shit, if real-life Nick is one-eighth as good as sexual stimulant Nick, the ladies in this town are lucky.

  Stretching my arms above my head, I release a long yawn. This is it. My last day in Arid Falls. Go big, then go home. I glance around the room. My clothes are haphazardly tossed over the chair by the small desk in the corner. My shoes that are usually lined up in a neat, orderly fashion are scattered across the floor. My bras are flung over the sides of my suitcase that’s lying in the middle of the floor.

  This isn’t who I am. I’m habitually organized to the point of anal. Valerie may joke about my clipboard personality, but it’s not far from the truth. Yet, in the short time here, this eccentric place has embedded chaos in my ways.

  Sitting up, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. My motion molecules are practically nonexistent today, and my stomach aches as nerves take hold. Struggling to calm my unsettled worries, I close my eyes, inhale a deep breath through my nose, hold it, then slowly release it through my mouth. I don’t know how to meditate—but that’s got to be close.

  My heart is heavy as I get out of bed. I gather my strewn belongings off the floor and repack them neatly in my suitcase. After a long shower, I dry my hair, twisting it up into a bun, and get dressed in my navy-blue pantsuit and jacket. Although I’m usually in a hurry to get the day going, this morning, I’m not in any particular mood to rush.