by Elisabeth Naughton, Alexandra Ivy, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Laura Wright, Skye Jordan
He looked disappointed and a little lost. Twisting his wrist, he glanced at his watch, then dropped his arm. But he didn’t ask her to come. Didn’t suggest plans when he returned. And she couldn’t bear dragging out this good-bye.
“Don’t be late,” she said with a smile and shooing gesture as she walked backward. The more space she created between them, the less likely she would be to lunge after him when he turned to go. “You shouldn’t keep a major network and a major broadcaster waiting.”
“I um…I looked through all Lily’s numbers and jotted down a rough sketch of a similar plan for you. It’s on your desk.”
“Great. I’ll look it over tonight. Thank you for doing that.”
“I think it’s a great idea,” he added, still not moving.
She nodded, kissed the fingertips of one glove, and used that hand to wave to him. “Safe travels, Meier Grant.”
And she turned away, put her gaze on the dirty snow path leading to the parking lot, and kept her head down and her mind focused on getting one foot in front of the other.
Chapter 7
Meier found everything about this gig tedious—the flights to get here, the limo ride from the airport, the wardrobe fitting for a tux, and he was now tolerating a powder by the makeup girl in a side room the filming crew had commandeered for their equipment and staff.
Near the door, Nick was chatting with Bridgette, who looked great, as always, and kept flashing warm smiles Meier’s way. In the four hours they’d been there, she’d tried three times to convince him to go back to her hotel room when they were done. Yet all he could think about was Faith. Faith and what she was doing with her Christmas Eve day without the ice-sculpting contest on her agenda. Faith and all the texts she hadn’t returned. Faith and his calls she hadn’t taken.
He knew how to read the message she was sending loud and clear. He just wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of it. And now that he was back in the middle of this hot mess he called a life, everything he’d found cute or quirky about her to begin with were the very things he loved about her now. Missed about her now.
And he didn’t know what the hell to do about it.
The assistant director stepped halfway into the room. “We’re ready.”
Bridgett grinned at Meier and waited for him to make his way to the door before turning and walking out with him, arm in arm. Meier did his best to ignore her without being an ass.
He glanced at Nick. “You said an hour, tops.”
“You know how these things run over.”
“This is the last interview I’m doing. Anything beyond this is Bridgette’s. Alone. Period.”
“Hey, relax—” Nick started.
“Don’t pull that living-up-to-my-contract shit again, or I’ll pull the same over our verbal contract that this would last a fucking hour.”
Meier took the microphone offered by a production assistant, and while Bridgette went on ahead of him and greeted their next interviewee, Meier checked his phone.
Still no answer from Faith. He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration and saw her walking away from him, her “Safe travels, Meier Grant” ringing in his ears.
Tonight the words felt more like a permanent good-bye than a see you later.
“Who is she?”
Nick’s question pulled Meier’s eyes open. His agent had his shoulder against a pillar, his eyes on Meier.
“Who is who?”
“The girl?”
Exasperated, Meier shoved his phone into his pocket. “What girl?”
“The one who’s not texting you back. The one who had you trying to get out of coming here.”
“What makes you think it’s a girl? Maybe I’m just sick and tired of this monkey-suit-smile-for-the-camera shit. Maybe I’m going to have you negotiate my next contract differently.”
Nick grinned. “Because I’ve never seen you so twisted. And, coincidentally—or not—I’ve never seen you crazy for a woman either. I don’t know of much else except a really asinine ref call or an asshole play from the opposing team that puts you in this type of mood.”
“Whatever.” Meier watched Bridgette and the R&B star—Meier couldn’t even remember his name—chatting, but he wasn’t going over until someone made him.
All he wanted to do was go home.
No. Not home. He wanted to go to Faith.
He wanted to go home to Faith.
Home and Faith.
Yes.
They fit.
“If you’re this tied up over her, why didn’t you bring her with you?” Nick asked. “Are you ashamed of us? I mean, I wouldn’t blame you. We are an odd crowd.”
Meier glanced at Nick. “What?”
“The chick you’re twisted over. Why didn’t you just bring her with you? You could have made it a mini Christmas vacation.”
Why didn’t I just bring her?
The question rolled around Meier’s brain, and every excuse he pulled up fell flat. She didn’t have any family to stay in Holly for. She’d given up on judging the contest. The hardware store was closed Christmas Day.
A sick feeling spread across the floor of his stomach. One he couldn’t identify or understand.
“Pffft.” He blew Nick off. “Who’d want to come to one of these things? They’re boring as shit.”
“You’re not serious.” It was half-statement, half-question. And when Meier didn’t answer, Nick smacked Meier’s arm with the back of his hand. “Dude, this is the tree-lighting ceremony at Rockefeller Center in New York. Thousands of people come from all over the country—hell, the world—to see this. Just because you see it every year doesn’t mean she wouldn’t want to see it.”
He thought of Faith’s reaction to the news of his obligation, and that icky feeling rose through his chest. “That’s not a gig. That’s like a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”
“Chicks dig this shit,” Nick went on. “Getting all glammed up—the dress, the hair, the nails, the shoes, the jewelry. Throw in an amazing venue, a five-star meal, free booze. Who wouldn’t want to come to this party? Except a loser like you, I mean.”
He was a loser, all right.
A major loser.
In fact, he was pretty sure he’d lost the best thing he’d ever found.
Nick shook his head and returned his gaze to Bridgette. “You missed the perfect shot, Grant. You could have racked up major points.”
He replayed their last fifteen minutes together over in his head again and again. “Safe travels, Meier Grant.”
“Meier?” Bridgette’s smooth voice tugged him into the present. “We’re ready to start.”
Everything inside him pushed back. No. He’d given up enough of himself for this goddamned sport and these goddamned teams. Yeah, he loved hockey. Yeah, he loved his job. Yeah, he felt lucky every goddamned day he hit the ice.
But enough was enough.
He turned and shoved the microphone into Nick’s hand. “It’s all yours. I’m done.”
“What? Meier, you can’t just…”
Meier didn’t hear anything else Nick said. He was threading his way through the crowded room toward the line of taxis waiting in front of Rockefeller Center.
* * *
Faith hung the last package of drill bits in the last box of inventory that had once filled the shelves of her basement. She released a sigh and rested her hands on the top of the stepstool, surveying the shelves around her for organizing opportunities. But she already knew there were none to be found—she’d organized every shelf in the store, top to bottom, end to end over the last thirty hours since she’d said good-bye to Meier.
And there he was again, popping into her head. Dammit.
She climbed down the short ladder and snapped it closed. The metal clap echoed through the empty store. Not a soul had come through the front doors in hours. Everyone in town and about a thousand other visitors were all at the festival.
And just like that, the ice-carving contest, her dad, and Natalie joined Meier in her un
comfortable thoughts.
“And now I don’t have anything to do to keep everyone out of my head.” She hung the ladder on a hook in the back, closed her eyes, and exhaled. “It can only get better, right?”
Even if that were true, it didn’t help her now. Now she just had to find a way to get through it. She turned to face the store and all its empty aisles, cleaned and straightened to perfection.
“There certainly isn’t anything left to do here.” Her gaze stopped on the front doors. “And I won’t be making one damn sale today.” A wave of anxious misery snaked through her, and she pressed a hand to her forehead as thoughts of failure, of losing the store, of going bankrupt swam in her head. “What now, Faith? What the hell are you going to do now?”
This was when those lightning strikes of anger usually came. The ones that prompted her to yell at her father for leaving her. After which she always melted into tears.
But she was just too exhausted for that kind of emotional dump. And this place was too empty, too hollow to stay in tonight alone.
She took a few deep breaths to ease the sting of tears and did the only thing she could do. The only thing she knew how to do. The only thing that had worked for her in the past. She pulled on her jacket, collected all the notes relating to her last-ditch effort to save the store, grabbed a pencil, a notepad, and her laptop, and headed into the freezing evening.
While there might not have been anyone in her store, Holly itself was alive with people as tourists and locals spilled out of the festival and strolled along the flashy streets.
In contrast, Faith traversed the adorable block in a mere ninety seconds and ducked into the warmth of Yuletide Spirits. The pub was as packed as she’d expected. Every seat at the bar was taken. Most of the tables were occupied. Quite a few people were milling among friends.
Faith caught sight of an empty one-person table in the corner, then sidestepped toward the bar and waved at Kelly.
“Hey, girl,” Kelly said. “What’s up?”
“Is it okay if I take the one-top in the corner for about an hour? I needed to get out of the store.”
Someone yelled for service at the other end of the bar, and Kelly shot the man a glare that would have taken him off at the knees if he weren’t already plastered.
When Kelly turned back to Faith, she said, “As long as you don’t do that”—she tipped her head toward the offender—“you can have the table all night.”
Faith laughed and pulled a ten-dollar bill from her pocket. “Thanks. Can I get some of your Jangle punch?”
Kelly pulled a glass from a shelf, set it on a rubber mat, and started mixing her drink. “That kind of day for you too, huh?”
“Yep, and I’m so ready for it to end.”
Kelly lifted the finished drink, saluting Faith. “Here’s to a quick end to Christmas Eve.”
Faith traded the ten for the drink, sad a day she’d always loved now caused her so much pain. Even sadder that she’d thought she’d found someone special to share it with only to be heartbroken.
She thanked Kelly, wove through the crowd, claimed her table, and did her best to lose herself in the combination of luscious alcohol and these strange new online business opportunities.
The alcohol shaved off an edge of stress, the crowd helped her shake the loneliness, and the ideas Meier had sketched out based on Lily’s experience were, well, pretty amazing actually. Simple, yet powerful. And he’d tiered the startup, adding in ways Faith could learn how to produce the most effective videos, write the most interesting blogs, find the best sponsorships, set up the most profitable affiliate links…
“Wow,” she murmured, looking over his smooth, slanted, male handwriting. “This is so…doable.”
Turning to Lily’s pages, Faith looked at the different numbers again to see where her friend’s profits came from. Compared that to Meier’s plan. And, hell, even if Faith made ten percent of what Lily did, it would help make ends meet. Thirty percent and she’d be secure, with the extra cash she needed to expand the business in ways that would bring in more sales, more contracts, more customers. Fifty percent and she’d be floating.
Excitement sparked hope. Hope lifted her mood. Maybe she’d get out from under this black cloud after all.
At least financially. Personally…that was another story.
“I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Between the time the male voice touched her ears and the time she looked into his eyes, Faith realized it was Meier. Her stomach fluttered into her throat, but a protective barrier closed around her heart.
“You’re back awfully soon.” She glanced over him. “Is that…a tux?”
“Yeah. Long story. Can we talk? Maybe back at the store where it’s quiet?”
“No. I came here to get away from the store.” She forced the edge from her voice. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I mean… No.” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Hold on.”
He wandered through the crowd, disappearing in moments and giving Faith time to breathe. Time to process his sudden return. She hadn’t known whether he would be coming back to town or not. And she’d made peace with their good-bye.
But now her guts were churning again. Her heart aching again. She couldn’t do this. She shouldn’t have to do this.
And the fact was…she didn’t have to do this.
Faith pushed all her papers into a pile and grabbed her laptop. But before she could stand, he was back with a chair and dropped it opposite hers. He gently took her things and set them on the table.
“Hey.” She started to grab them back. “I’m sort of in the middle of something here. The world doesn’t revolve around you, superstar.”
He laughed. It was a tired, you-are-so-freaking-adorable laugh. “Man, I missed you.” He leaned forward, and took her hands. “That had to be the longest thirty-six hours of my ever-loving life.”
“Meier, stop.” She tried to pull her hands back, but he held on. And, God, she wasn’t going to make it through this day intact. She was ready to shatter into a million pieces. “Look, I’m fine with you going off and doing your thing. But I’m not going to be a puppet, just hanging around, letting you pull my strings whenever you want. I already said good-bye.”
“I know.” Despite the firm hold on her fingers, his thumbs stroked the backs of her hands gently. Staring at their joined hands, he huffed a dark laugh. “And, like an idiot, I didn’t realize that until just a few hours ago.”
She frowned. “What?”
He scooted his chair closer until his knees created a V around hers, and he released her hands to stroke her thighs, spreading heat through her jeans. Faith glanced around, but found everyone absorbed in their own conversations.
“I may be a little slow”—Meier tapped his temple—“I’ve gotten checked into the boards a little too often, but I get things eventually. And I was in the middle of those damned interviews when I realized that while I was saying good-bye for the day, you were saying good-bye for good.”
He suddenly seemed vulnerable in a way she’d never imagined this big strong hockey player could, and the sight thickened her throat.
“Seemed like the right time. It was inevitable, and I didn’t see the point in dragging it out.”
“Thing is, I don’t see it as inevitable.” He collected her hands between his again. “A few days ago, I wanted to ask if you’d think about continuing to see me.”
Faith’s heart tripped, and her mind scanned backward. She hadn’t seen any sign of that. But she’d dated only one guy her whole life, and that had been over eight years ago. What did she know?
“But, man, that’s no small thing. The travel, the schedule. It’s brutal. I’ve seen a lot of guys try. A lot of guys fail. And you have the store to manage and were under so much stress already, I didn’t want to throw something like that at you. So I waited. And when you weren’t answering my calls or texts…” He laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “Let’s just say
it took me way too long to figure out that I shouldn’t have waited.”
Someone added money to the jukebox, and something upbeat and alternative poured through the pub.
Disbelief narrowed Faith’s eyes. “I’m not your type. I’m not even close to your type. And I’m sure as shit not going to sit around Holly waiting for the next time you blow into town for a roll in the sheets.”
She pushed her chair back and stood, almost hitting a couple standing behind her. She apologized and turned back to Meier, also standing.
He gripped her biceps and bent to look into her eyes. “I’m going to talk fast, because I know you’re not going to listen for long. You’re right, you’re not my type. Which is exactly why I can’t shake you. Why it felt like I was gone a month when I was only gone a damn day. And why I want to continue seeing you.
“The women I’ve seen over the past few years are shallow. They care about themselves, period. They care about their looks, their image, and their money. I slept with them because they were easy to come by and easy to let go.”
He released her suddenly, slapped his hand across his forehead, and muttered, “I can’t fucking believe I just said that out loud.”
He turned away and dropped his hand over his mouth.
Faith’s heart was beating so fast, she pressed her hand to her chest for calm. But he’d said a lot of powerful things in the last few seconds. Things that shook her heart loose and made her shiver.
When he didn’t move for several seconds, Faith lifted her voice enough to be heard over the music. “I’m still here. And I’m still listening.”
His shoulders lowered. He exhaled. And turned to face her.
The regret and turmoil darkening his eyes created a tug deep in her chest.
He licked his lips. “When I went to New York after being here for two weeks, I could barely stand being there. Everyone felt plastic. Everything felt scripted. And all I wanted to do was come home. Only I didn’t want to come back here for Holly. And, while the rift with my parents has faded over the last week, we’ve never been close enough for me to want to come back for them. I wanted to come back for you, Faith. I wanted to come back because…” He released a breath, looked away, then looked back, and that vulnerability had returned. The one that twisted her heart. “I came back because you feel like home to me. And I don’t want to let that go. I don’t want to let you go.”