A Hot Winter (New Adult Romance) (The Attraction Series Book 2)

by Lake, C. J.

  * A Hot Winter *

  C.J. Lake

  Copyright © 2014 by C.J. Lake

  Snow House Books

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  The scanning, uploading, and distributing of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Please Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedicated to my awesome editor, who made this possible.

  And to my profound inspiration, P.E.

  Chapter One

  “Can I give it to you straight?”

  “Uh, sure,” Emma replied a bit hesitantly, pushing some of her dark hair behind her shoulder and steeling herself for whatever shoe was about to drop. After all, she knew it couldn’t be this easy. So far Stacy Creston had spent the past fifteen minutes lauding the charms of Emma’s house. But considering that Stacy was a seasoned real estate agent with cunning eyes and an insincere-looking smile, there had to be more than blind, humble affection turning over in her mind as she assessed the property.

  “Well, of course your home is incredibly charming,” Stacy declared. “Adorable.”

  It felt like a pity compliment, but Emma managed a pleasant smile. “Thank you.”

  “However, in today’s market,” Stacy continued, her youthful brow pinching, “it’s going to require a few tweaks before I can sell it.”

  “I see,” Emma began, before becoming distracted by her two sons running into the kitchen.

  “Give it back!” her four-year-old, Ben, shouted.

  “No--it’s mine!” Jake predictably replied and held the plastic dinosaur out of Ben’s reach.

  “Hey, hey,” Emma said sternly. Both boys looked up. Calmly she said, “Jake, why can’t you share with him?”

  Her seven-year-old was smart enough to know it wasn’t a genuine question--that this wasn’t going to be a back-and-forth. Looking glumly contrite, Jake mumbled, “Fiiine,” before dropping the dinosaur into Ben’s eager hands.

  “Behave,” Emma added, eying both boys warningly.

  “Mommy, I have a joke,” Ben announced, dropping the supposedly coveted dinosaur toy on the floor.

  “Okay, not now,” she told him, then returned her attention to Stacy, whose insincere smile was faltering. Definitely didn’t appear to be a “kid person.” “Sorry about the interruption,” Emma said. “Now you were saying, there were some changes--”

  “Upgrades,” Stacy corrected soothingly. “Trust me. They’ll make all the difference.” She began toying with the large diamond ring on her left hand. Emma couldn’t tell if it was an idle gesture or a deliberate one, but either way, she didn’t want to get Stacy off-track by asking if she’d just gotten engaged. Her motivation was practical, not emotional; hearing about marriages and happy couples no longer stabbed at her heart, and hadn’t for some time. It had been over four years ago since Connor had died, and by now Emma’s pain over it had dulled to numb acceptance. No, right now her concern was the nature of the “upgrades” Stacy wanted. How much were they going to cost Emma, and how far would they set back her move to New York?

  “What I’m proposing is critical if you want to get anywhere near your ideal asking price,” Stacy added, dragging out the suspense.

  “Knock, knock.”

  Both women looked down at the abrupt interruption. Now Ben was standing right in front of Stacy, waiting for her to respond. Apparently he’d misunderstood Emma, figuring “not now” only meant that she didn’t want to hear the joke, but that he could still bother the realtor with it.

  “Ben, I said not now,” Emma reiterated, not wanting to scold him in front of company--or really at all. She’d never been much of a disciplinarian and up until recently, she hadn’t needed to be. Both her boys had been easy. Lately, though, Jake was becoming a little rebellious, sometimes challenging the things she said, and Ben was often looking for attention.

  Stacy Creston surprised her by leaning down a bit and giving Ben an encouraging smile. “Who’s there?”

  “Door,” Ben replied proudly.

  “Door who?” Stacy continued, her voice taking on a more saccharine tone as she darted a glance up at Emma and scrunched her nose, as if to say, They’re so cute at this age, aren’t they?

  Emma gave her a smile of thanks for indulging her son.

  Now Ben stared mutely. Emma and Stacy waited for him to answer until his little mouth curved open and his dark eyes appeared panicked. Pleadingly, he turned to look at Emma, before cupping his hand over his mouth and whispering in distress, “Mommy--I forgot the rest!”

  Supportively, Emma reached out and squeezed his shoulder, bringing him closer to her. “That’s okay,” she whispered. “Let’s practice later.”

  “Okay,” he agreed, inching closer to her legs.

  “Sorry about that, Stacy. You were saying?”

  “Ah, yes, the house. Let’s start with the kitchen,” she said, giving a sweeping look around the room. “This is a very competitive market. People want all the bells and whistles, especially in Newton, one of the more affluent towns in Greater Boston.” Emma nodded with comprehension as Stacy continued, “For instance, these countertops…” She ran her hand over the smooth surface of the center island. “I’m afraid they’re becoming passé.”

  “Granite?” Emma blurted doubtfully. She didn’t mean to sound defensive, but could that be right? She’d bought the house only three-and-a-half years ago, and the agent at the time had gushed about the countertops, practically bursting into song over the granite.

  Stacy stated emphatically, “Quartz is what’s on-trend now.”

  “I see,” Emma muttered, feeling a bit distressed. New countertops would not only be expensive, but time-consuming, and she’d hoped to be completely moved out by mid-January. That only gave her a few weeks to pack up everything and accomplish any necessary “upgrades.”

  Of course, Emma figured the house would be on the market a while since she was listing it at the worst time: a cold, snowy winter in Massachusetts. It wasn’t particular to this year--all winters in Massachusetts were snowy and cold. But her plan was to relocate to Ithaca, New York, and stay with Connor’s parents, who still lived there. After Emma’s house in Newton sold, then she and the boys would get a place of their own.

  Having to do major renovations before the house could even be listed was not something she’d accounted for, and stubbornly, wasn’t willing to accept. In fact, as she stood here now watching Stacy Creston play with her huge diamond, Emma made a silent decision to reject her suggestions. Not all of them, and not blindly…but Emma wasn’t going to let Stacy push her plans off-course.

  “Like I said, you absolutely want to be on-trend,” Stacy went on, and with Emma’s neutral expression being the only encouragement she needed, she rattled off a litany of “tweaks,” that would probably end up costing more than Stacy’s ring and Audi combined. Something about knocking down a wa
ll, pulling up carpets, ripping out light fixtures, swapping tile floors for hardwood and her existing faucets for touchless.

  “And finally, buyers love having a bedroom option on the first floor. If you could convert your office to a guest room,” Stacy said, nodding in the direction of the small room off the living room, in which Emma could barely fit her desk and bookcase, “Then--along with the other changes--you’d really have something.”

  Like a mountain of debt? Emma thought cynically. Not to mention, a several-month-delay on her move to New York. Considering that her promotion at work was tied up with the move, Emma couldn’t afford to absorb most of what Stacy Creston had said.

  “But other than that, the house is lovely,” Stacey declared. Flashing a wider smile, she finished brightly, “And I’d be ecstatic to take the listing!”

  Chapter Two

  After the waitress set down their salads, Andy said to Emma, “So basically what you’re saying is: who needs all the hassle? You’ll just stay in Massachusetts.”

  Flatly, Emma replied, “No. What part of ‘Stacy Creston is my real estate agent now’ misled you?”

  Smirking at her sister, Andy slipped a hair-band off her wrist and tied her blonde hair into a haphazard ponytail. “But I don’t want you guys to go.” She picked up her fork with resignation and stabbed a tomato.

  “I know,” Emma said, assuring Andy, “but we’ll only be five hours away.”

  “Only?”

  “We’ll still talk all the time.”

  Nodding, Andy said, “You’re right. So finish what you were saying about Stacy Creston.”

  “Well, I’ve thrown out most of her extensive wish list, except for a few quick renovations.”

  “Like what?”

  “First, I’m going to paint over the orange accent walls in the kitchen--”

  “What!” Andy yelped, her blue eyes wide with protest. “Why would you do that? I love the orange walls!”

  “I do, too, but Stacy said neutral colors only,” Emma said calmly as she reached for her Sprite. She and Andy were seated at a familiar table at the Cloud Café in Copley Plaza. They often met there for lunch when Emma could get away from her desk upstairs on the sixth floor, in the office suites of Alien Notion, the sci-fi magazine she’d worked at for the past three years.

  Today had been the last day for that, though. It was strange to watch the office suites being emptied out all week, and the doors officially closing. There was something inevitably sad about it, even though the operation was only moving, not ending. Still, Emma had taken out her last box of paperwork and stepped onto the elevator with the sense of leaving a ghost town behind. Now, that same box was parked on the empty chair beside her at the Cloud Café.

  In a rare moment of dogged persistence, her sweet younger sister continued her crusade about the accent walls. “But the orange makes the kitchen feel warm and homey,” Andy insisted. “It’s autumnal. Like a pumpkin.”

  Emma didn’t bother debating the matter since Stacy Creston appeared to be as much of a pumpkin enthusiast as she was a kid person. Besides, with Emma moving, what did it really matter what décor she preferred? Still, she offered Andy some consolation. “The other walls in the kitchen are brick. It will still be homey.”

  “Hmm, I guess you’re right,” Andy admitted. “Okay, so what else besides the painting?”

  “I’ve narrowed it down to new faucets in the bathrooms and new flooring in the kitchen.”

  “And you’re going to hire someone to do all that before Christmas?”

  “Well…I was thinking about it, and I realized I could probably do it myself.”

  “Really?” Andy said, looking skeptical. “All that?”

  “Yeah, why not?”

  “Because it sounds kind of hard.”

  “You act like I’m not good at this stuff. Remember when I did the weather-stripping around my front door?” Emma said.

  “I guess…” Andy mumbled doubtfully.

  “Anyway, it’ll save me a lot of money.”

  “Hey--you know what else would save money? Not going,” Andy suggested brightly.

  At that, Emma tilted her head, acting as though she were considering the idea. “Oh, my God, that’s a brilliant plan. Why didn’t I come up with that? Oh, right, because you already did--several times. And, oh yeah, it wouldn’t actually save me money because I’d be out of a job.”

  “Well, there’s that,” Andy conceded.

  Emma was glad that Andy let the notion drop then, because it wasn’t viable to stay--not with a promotion to Senior Editor being dangled by her boss--and if Emma allowed herself to think about how much she’d miss Andy or their mom or the cozy three-bedroom house she shared with her sons, it would only make this harder.

  Addressing the topic of the renovations, Emma explained, “Since I’ll be working from home now until the new office opens in New York next month, I’ll have more flexibility with my schedule. I’m sure I can squeeze in a few little home repair projects.”

  “Little home repair projects?” Andy echoed, looking skeptical. “You mean like suddenly becoming a plumber?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How are you going to install faucets yourself?”

  “Oh. Well. I’m sure there are videos online that show how to do it,” Emma said, waving off her sister’s concerns. “Same with putting down flooring. I know there are videos about that.”

  “Emma, there are videos online about everything. That doesn’t mean it will be easy. The flooring alone might take you twenty hours.” Apologetically, Andy held up her hands, adding, “I’m just saying! Doing everything yourself sounds like a big pile of stress you don’t need right now. Especially if you’re planning to pack up your whole house and be out by next month.”

  Thoughtfully, Emma tapped her fork on the side of her salad bowl. Even though Emma had learned to be pretty self-reliant over the years, her sister had a point. “Okay: option two. What if I hire Tragan to do the work?” she said, referring to Andy’s fiancé, who worked for Winter Contracting & Construction. “I’ll book his company for the job, and specifically request him. What about that idea?”

  “Oh…actually,” Andy began.

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry, Emma, but I don’t think Tragan would be able to do the work. Not on the timetable you need.”

  Disappointed, Emma tried to hold back a frown. “How come?”

  “Last night he told me that he was just assigned to a new house that’s going up in Brighton. Plus, now he’s taking classes at night, so…”

  “Oh, okay. I completely understand,” Emma assured her, mentally re-routing to Plan A, doing it herself.

  “No, but wait!” Andy said, clearly reading her mind. “Just because Tragan is booked, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get professional help. There are plenty of guys Tragan works with who could do the job for you.”

  Emma scrunched her face at that. “Enh. I don’t want a strange guy in my house for a week. I trust Tragan, so that’s different. But some random workman? No, thanks.”

  If Andy recognized the finality of her sister’s tone, she pretended not to, continuing, “How about this compromise: I’ll have Tragan book the job and select the guy for you. He’ll only send over someone he trusts and can vouch for. How’s that?”

  “Hmm…that’s not bad.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But!” Emma amended quickly. “It has to be someone normal.”

  “Of course.”

  “I don’t want anyone creepy coming over.”

  With a laugh, Andy rolled her eyes. “Emma, obviously Tragan is not going to send some creepy guy to your house. But, fine, I’ll tell him that.”

  “All right…and no lurkers, either,” Emma added. “Whenever I enter a room, I don’t want to find him lurking in the shadows.”

  Andy slanted her a look. “Um, I’m pretty sure that would fall under the umbrella of ‘creepy’--but, duly noted.”

  As she was warmin
g up to the idea, Emma thought of something else. “Oh, wait! No chatterboxes, either. I’m not trying to be a jerk here. It’s just that with everything going on, I don’t have time to indulge. Just because I’ll be working from home doesn’t mean I can get trapped in an endless loop of banal small talk.”

  “Low threshold for banality--got it.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Anything else? Please say no.”

  Emma had to laugh. “Do you have to act so beaten down?”

  “Yes,” Andy replied simply. Then her blue eyes went wide again. “Hey, maybe you’ll really luck out and Matt can do it!”

  “Matt…?” Emma repeated, feigning total ignorance, as though she was trying to recall who that was. In truth Emma recognized the name. She heard it often enough in passing from Andy and Tragan. Matt Winter was Tragan’s best friend, but besides that…Emma had actually shared a strange, awkward phone conversation with him a few months ago. She’d never mentioned it to Andy, and she doubted Matt would even remember now--which was definitely just as well.

  “Yes!” Andy continued excitedly. “Matt’s so great! Such a nice guy--but quiet, so you won’t have to worry about him talking to you all day.”

  “Well, that’s good,” Emma remarked.

  “The only thing is, since his dad owns the company, I’m not sure how busy Matt is or what he’s working on right now. He might not be available, but hey, I’ll have Tragan find out. And if not Matt, then someone else.”

  “All right. Maybe this could work. I’ll go to the hardware store and pick out all the materials--and Tragan can pick out the guy.”

  Chapter Three

  “Yup, got it, Dad,” Matt was saying as he headed toward the corner of the hardware store that housed the paints. “I’m picking up four more cans right now. That should be enough.”

  “No Briar paint, remember,” Joe Winter said.

  “Of course, I know,” Matt said absently, suddenly taking notice of a girl in the first paint aisle. She was perched up on a step ladder reaching for a can off the top shelf. Her dark brown hair fell a few inches past her shoulders, and when she leaned forward, his eyes fell to her blue jeans.