While the table erupted in excitement, she made eye contact with Jonah. She tried to see past his giant grin to determine what he truly hoped to gain by this largess, but the moment was lost to the string of questions from the other volunteers.
“Can we do some radio spots? Big Z used to have a lot of luck with radio,” Robert Zabrinski said.
“Do people still listen to radios?” someone else asked.
Louise chimed in. “What about podcasts? I’m hearing a lot of talk about podcasts from our library patrons.”
“Do you have someone in mind for the internship?” Em asked, directing her question to Krista.
“Amanda does. I’ll text her to set up an interview as soon as possible. I believe Amanda said this person has a commitment during Christmas week, but as I understand it, Secret Santa has all of its gifts delivered by then, correct?” The timing would be imperative if her family actually showed up in Marietta for Christmas. As unlikely as the idea sounded, she’d begun to take the threat seriously.
She heard Em’s answer but her attention detoured when she saw Sage approaching to check on their table. “Wow, you guys are a happy bunch. Good news, I hope?”
Krista sat back and finished her cocoa while the others filled Sage in.
When Sage looked at her, a question in her eyes, Krista said, “Don’t worry. Our regular Blue Sky clients will be covered. I promise. And I haven’t given up on talking you into taking Copper Mountain Chocolates to the next level.”
Sage smiled good-naturedly. “I’ll settle for selling every box of chocolate on these shelves by closing time on Christmas Eve.” She rolled her eyes. “Who has time to think about the future when the present is kicking your butt? Would anyone like to sample one of my latest creations? Candy cane truffles. I think I finally struck the right balance of white chocolate and crème de menthe. Tell me what you think.”
With the entire table pressed into taste-testing service, Jonah stood and motioned for Krista to follow him across the room to an open space near a gorgeous holiday display. “Mom assured me this Santa thing won’t take every hour of every day. She said it’s gotten a lot easier since your partner set up an online presence.”
Krista tried not to inhale too deeply because his scent—a combination of winter fresh air, chocolate, and hint of pine—was too distracting. “We might consider creating a private Facebook group and doing the initial critique process for wishes there.”
He held up a hand for a high-five. “Great idea. Then, a few of us can meet here each morning to brainstorm ways to fill the agreed upon wishes and set a budget.”
The touch of his palm connected in a weird way that made her close her fingers in a fist as she dropped her hand to her side. “I may not be able to make every…” She pictured the check. “I’ll be here.”
“Me, too. It’ll be the incentive I need to walk the dogs early. Tonight, I’ll set up an overall plan and flowchart so we can track when and how our requests come in. We’ll need to do the same for the income side of things. I’m curious as to why the donation well suddenly went dry. The sooner we get our account set up online, the sooner we can track things in real time.”
Krista found his analytical approach reassuring. His grand gesture with the check might have had a bit of the theater behind it, but his approach to business was a lot like her own.
“Simple and transparent works for me. As I said earlier, my family is in show business. Nothing is ever straightforward when you’re surrounded by thespians.”
He moved a smidgen closer. “Simplicity of design is key to both my inventions and my business strategy. When I start overthinking something, I step back for a new perspective. I usually hop on my bike. Exercise is a great distraction for an overactive mind.”
“Well, this is Montana. Your bike riding is going to be limited to cycling in the gym for the next few months.”
She chewed on her bottom lip debating about how frank to be. He’d given her ten thousand reasons to say yes to this partnership, but what exactly would that involve? Her inner bullshit reader said he had to have another agenda. And she sure as heck never considered herself a spokesperson for Christmas.
“Blue Sky is my baby. Christmas is a one-off. Four weeks. Blow and go. It’s over and done and I’m looking at a new month, a new intern and no jobs lined up.”
“What about your partner? Is she out of the picture completely?”
Krista didn’t know and the not knowing kept her awake at night. She hated ambiguity. Black and white. Bottom line. Profit and loss. Those were her touchstones.
“Amanda should be able to provide backup by phone. But I want you to know that Blue Sky will always be my first priority.”
He held out his hand. “Understood.”
She shook it twice, intending to let go and return to their table, but as Sage passed by on her way to the counter, she said, “Mistletoe.”
“Huh?”
“What?”
Sage pointed up. “House rules. A kiss is mandatory.”
Krista groaned. She’d witnessed this bit of holiday mischief several times when she’d been in the shop. “But—”
Before she could express her protest, Jonah wrapped his arms around her—not unlike the way he had when he broke her fall. Only this time, he was in front of her. And his lips hovered an inch from hers, waiting for permission.
She closed her eyes and leaned in to get the silly kiss over.
The instant his lips touched hers, the magnitude of her mistake hit. Not only had Jonah Andrews been drinking her favorite cocoa, but the sweetness mixed with his natural chemistry created a potent combination that made her knees turn rubbery and her heart begin to pound. She kissed him back because she was powerless to do otherwise.
Luckily, a smattering of applause brought her back to her senses.
Cheeks burning, she turned and bowed. Being the daughter of an actor had to be good for something, right?
Em motioned for them to return to the group. “So, would now be a good time to go to the bank with Louise and get both your names on the checking account?”
Krista stopped so abruptly Jonah bumped into her. His touch. Distracting. Weird. “Why would I need to write checks?”
“To buy gifts,” Em said. “Usually, we like three or four board members to have check-writing privileges. So, it’ll be you two, Louise, and me on the account.”
“But you don’t know me. What if I abscond with the funds?”
Em looked around the table. “Well, that wouldn’t be very Christmas-like.” She shrugged her narrow shoulders. “I may be old, but I have a good sense about people. Besides, it’s not like we have a lot of volunteers knocking on our door. Christmas is less than six weeks away, which means our deadline is five.”
“That’s right,” Louise said. “We try to have our gifting completely in place a week ahead of time. Then we trust the real Santa to cover anything we missed.”
The real Santa?
Krista looked at Jonah, whose obviously amused, sweetly indulgent smile made her fingertips tingle and her heart do a funny sideways dance.
It was on the tip of her tongue to say, “Hey, what are you doing New Year’s Eve?” But she squashed the idea.
Romance is not part of the plan. And if by some miracle Mom actually pulls this off, I’ll be up to my eyeballs in family from Christmas to New Year’s Day.
Realistically, she knew the chance of that happening was remote at best, which was why she refused to get her hopes up. No one in her busy, crazy, paparazzi-conscious family would give up a whole week of meetings, parties, and photo ops for something as Norman Rockwell ordinary as Christmas in Marietta.
“Would it be okay with everybody if I meet you at the bank? I need to run this past Amanda. She is my partner, after all. Give me half an hour?”
The three other cosigners agreed to her time frame, so Krista put on her jacket and hurried out the door. She needed fresh air and Blue Sky to get her bearings.
She�
��d agreed to do this volunteer stint to keep Amanda from fretting. Plus, realistically, Krista knew there was bound to be good word of mouth spillover for Blue Sky. The coming year was make-or-break in Krista’s five-year plan. She’d take all the good PR she could get—even from a mythological guy in a red suit and a holiday she considered an emotional volleyball game that left people disappointed and disillusioned.
The straw that broke the reindeer’s back for Krista had been the Christmas before she moved to Montana. In fact, Amanda’s job offer had landed in her email inbox like a lifeline after the worst holiday week on record.
Thomas, her hip, happening, handsome-as-hell boyfriend of eight months, proposed on Christmas Eve on the roof of her father’s apartment building. She’d tried to convince herself his timing had nothing to do with the fact her mother was casting actors for a new pilot and was due to join the family for Chinese the next day. But the niggling suspicion kept Krista from saying yes. Luckily, the lack of a ring provided the perfect deflection.
She’d pictured Branna’s response to a ring-free proposal and said, “The idea is certainly worth considering once I know you’re serious. Hint, hint.” Although her sister would have included a few well-placed swear words.
He kissed her ring finger and looked into her eyes with a sincerity she honestly believed was the real thing. “A ring is the first thing on my list once PizzaYou goes live.”
They rejoined the family for dessert and champagne then went back to her place for a night of breathless, sweaty lovemaking. Replete, her heart convinced this must, indeed, be love, Krista agreed to share the news with her whole family when Mom showed up the next day.
Of course, Mom didn’t make it.
And Thomas showed a side of his personality she’d never seen before—the non-actor side. Apparently, he’d been acting ever since the day they were introduced by mutual friends. The Thomas she met was a hardworking staffer helping two college friends trying to “crowdfund” a start-up that promised to deliver hot pizza by the slice to Manhattan office workers. What he’d failed to disclose until a month or so after they’d started sleeping together was the fact he also was an actor. Aspiring. Part-time. Hobby-ish.
Granted he was cute enough for the big screen—in a twenty-something-Leo-with-longish-hair sort of way—but since he hadn’t been cast in anything since college and recently fired his agent, she’d let the issue slide. A trade-off, since his amusing, fun-loving side got her out of her workaholic-stiletto-to-the-glass-ceiling rut.
Then came Thanksgiving. She met his upstate New York parents who spent most of the time grilling her about her famous family.
“Does your father plan another comeback on stage?”
Another? When had Dad ever left the stage?
“How often do you get to Hollywood? Have you ever attended any of the award shows? Oscar night is a big party around here. We go all out, don’t we, Thomas?”
Thomas had grimaced into his wine glass but didn’t answer.
“Practicing for the day our Tommy picks one up, right, son?” his father had added before Thomas could change the subject.
An Oscar? Tommy? Krista hadn’t been sure if the dry turkey or overbaked expectations was harder to swallow.
On the drive back into the city, Thomas had tried to downplay his parents’ dreams as illusions he’d set aside right out of college. “That door doesn’t magically open without the right connections,” he’d said, bitterness showing in his tone for the first time.
Was she the connection he’d been looking for? Or the love he claimed he never thought he’d find?
The answer seemed pretty obvious when she and Thomas dined alone on Christmas Day. Dad had a hangover. Her sister decided to join friends for a movie, instead. Mom blew off Christmas dinner to hang in LA with the West coast kids and the newly chosen cast members of her next blockbuster. Thomas left the restaurant early complaining of a reaction to MSG—even though the owners insisted that wasn’t possible.
On New Year’s Eve, when Krista asked if Thomas’s proposal still stood, he told her, “It looks like that crowdfunding thing isn’t going to pan out. No job, no money for a wedding. Maybe we’d better hold off until I have a clearer handle on the future.”
A future that didn’t include her, apparently.
A few days later she saw a post on social media of Thomas and a beautiful starlet with a bright shiny future.
Were there tears? A few. But mostly she was pissed off that her actor radar had failed so miserably.
Not that she could claim any dating success with non-actors, either. So far, Montana had been a bust—romance-wise. She didn’t regret moving, but she still hadn’t forgiven Christmas for setting her up to fail so spectacularly.
She wasn’t all that fond of love, either.
And the combination—love and Christmas? A recipe for certain heartbreak in Krista’s book.
Chapter Five
Krista wiped a bead of sweat from her brow as she ran on the treadmill. Jogging was hands down her least favorite form of exercise, but since she’d agreed to meet Jonah and the other volunteers at nine, she’d decided to hit the gym early. A necessity since she’d slept like crap the night before. Thanks, in no small part, to the man she couldn’t get off her mind.
The color of his eyes intrigued her so much she’d wasted an hour online trying to find the name for the color. Air Force Blue was close, but Presidential Blue had a bit more depth. None matched the imprint in her memory. Although the possibility loomed large that she’d blown his eye color and the effect his kiss had on her completely out of proportion.
Why? She’d tried to figure that out as she sat beside him, shoulder-to-shoulder, at the bank while waiting for a novice clerk to add two new names and signatures to the Montana Secret Santa Society bank account.
Jonah had decided that since he was there, he might as well open an account locally to facilitate whatever needs he might encounter while he was in town. Although he’d handled the transaction discreetly, she’d happened to see the deposit slip when the clerk returned with his temporary checks. Another 10K.
Krista had to admit Jonah’s cavalier relationship with money made her a little uneasy. She’d never met a rich man she liked. Amanda’s father, for instance, had money up the wazoo, but he treated people like sacrificial pawns in a game of chess—and that included his daughter. Her own father wasn’t hurting for money, but Manolo “Manny” Martin put the “don” in prima donna. He once played the Godfather on stage and somehow never quite shook his sense of privilege or need to control the people around him.
The music playing on her earbuds stuttered in a way that made her gaze shift from the big screen TV muted in the distance to her phone’s tiny screen. Her father’s roguishly handsome face filled the space. “Speak of the devil.”
She glanced around. Nobody close enough to bother with a one-sided conversation. “Good morning, father dear.”
“So formal. You sound out of breath. Please tell me you’re on the treadmill and not under some young hunk.”
“The former. If you’re worried about the latter, I suggest you call Branna.” Her sister prided herself on being a love ’em and leave ’em feminist who didn’t buy into the whole crappy monogamy thing.
He roared with laughter. “You got that right. Glad to know you’re taking care of yourself. Did I tell you I ran a ten-K in Mexico City? The air was so bad I thought I’d drop dead on the spot. But it bought me miles of PR with the locals. My taco-western opened there last week, and it’s doing great at the box office.”
“You’re going to make me ask, aren’t you? What’s a taco western?”
“Think Clint Eastwood in the Sonoran desert. Only modern day. Drug cartels and lots of explosions.”
She could picture it. Dad claimed his heart was on the boards of Broadway, but he banked in Hollywood. “Where are you now?”
“Home.” She pictured his third-floor walk-up in Greenwich Village. “I’m starting to make travel pla
ns for the holidays. Christmas in Montana. How cool is that?”
The empty space in her belly filled with live piranha. “More than cool, it’s cold.” She faked a laugh to make sure he understood she didn’t believe it for a minute. “I’ll be working right up to Christmas Eve. I just signed with a new client yesterday. He put up a very healthy retainer.”
Not a complete lie.
“And what will you be doing for Mr. Healthy Retainer?”
“He’s president of a local charity that’s on its last leg. I called in a favor with a popular podcaster who plans to interview Jonah live this morning. I also booked some radio spots and set up targeted Facebook ads. Hopefully, we can bring it back from the brink.”
“Having work is good, but making memories with your family is equally important, Krista. Your mom’s counting on everyone being together this year.”
She stumbled over the toe of her running shoe and would have face-planted if not for her grip on the handlebars. “Mom always says that, Dad. She never shows.”
He ignored her comment. “Your brothers and sisters are all onboard.”
The next plane to Tahiti maybe… “I thought Javier—” Youngest of the boys, five years her senior, Javier legally changed his name to the letter J in anticipation of a huge DJ career that never happened. “Excuse me. J wasn’t speaking to Diego. And the last I heard, Branna wasn’t allowed at Jezibel’s house. And Diego thinks Jez is being a bitch, but J is on Branna’s side. Are we talking about the same siblings?”
“Oh, none of that matters at the holidays. We’re going skating on some local lake, taking sleigh rides through the Montana countryside, and playing charades with shots.”
Krista hit the kill switch. “Dad, I love you, but you’re delusional. Your dream Christmas is a sort of if-Santa-married-a-unicorn thing. Never. Gonna. Happen. Last year, I cooked enough food to feed an army. Branna and J dropped in long enough to open presents. Diego and Mom never made it out of Mexico City—or Guatemala, depending on whose story you believe. And you decided to stay in New York.”
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