Marrying Miss Kringle: Frost

by McConnell, Lucy

  She would make short work of this task and then demand to speak to him. Surely he’d be in a better mood if he wasn’t overwhelmed with work. Not ten minutes later, she’d sorted the email and pushed away from the computer, ready to take Tannon by the hands and introduce herself. She grinned, thinking of the shock. He might need a minute to accept that it was truly her. She’d wait for him to mentally catch up. She’d waited for him this long; what was a few more minutes?

  Tim half ran, half walked to her desk. He was so thin, she wondered if he’d eaten at all in the last week. He carried two Styrofoam cups in his long-fingered hands. “Coffee.”

  Frost grimaced at the idea of drinking the bitter liquid, causing Tim’s smile to falter. He had such a desire to do good, and she’d rained on his efforts. With a bright smile, she reached for the cup. “I’m more of a hot chocolate girl, but I’m sure this is delicious.”

  He pulled back, not allowing her to fully grasp the drink. “We have hot chocolate. I’ll make you some.”

  An overwhelming need for approval smacked her in the face. She hopped up and wrapped him in a sisterly hug. “Tim, you’re so wonderful.” She remembered Tim’s letters. He’d list every single teeny tiny thing he considered a notch against him and promised to do better. The next year, he had done better, but no one was perfect. He needed to hear that he was doing a good job, that he got credit for trying and didn’t have to be perfect. “I’m sure your coffee is wonderful, but thank you so much for caring enough about your job to do it so well.”

  Tim stuttered, stiff as a candy cane in her arms. Embarrassment wafted off of him like the soft scent of a Christmas candle. She let him go, wondering what she’d done, and he jumped away. “Th-thanks.” He ran into Tannon’s office.

  “Well, it’s about time.” Tannon’s rough voice grated across Frost’s skin like poorly made tinsel. “What’s going on out front?”

  “The protesters have moved out to the main road. They’ve been warned not to block traffic.”

  Frost breathed a sigh of relief at the news. She had no desire to walk through that group again. They were South Pole angry and left an icky goo on her soul with their accusatory words and black feelings.

  “Fine. Fine. Get on with your job.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Tim came out slower than he’d gone in. He tried not to look at Frost. She’d have none of that. He was a good kid and was on his way to becoming a good man. The type of person she would want to know and be friends with. So what if she’d said the wrong thing? She’d shower him with compliments while she had the chance.

  Frost flagged him over to her desk so she could talk quietly. “You handle him so well. Is he always like this?” She pointed discreetly towards Tannon’s office.

  Tim nodded and then hurried away.

  Frost pulled her lips down into a frown, an expression she rarely used because frowning causes wrinkles and wrinkles didn’t go with any of her outfits. She looked around the sterile room and shuddered. This place needed a serious dose of Christmas cheer. She’d be ornery too if she had to come to work here every day. She had to act. With great Christmas Spirit came great responsibility to share that spirit, no matter what time of year.

  Pulling out her Kringle bag, she stuck her hand inside and wished for a garland for her desk. The purse produced exactly what she pictured, with ribbons and silver and red glass balls dangling at just the right length to hang across the front of the drab excuse for office furniture. Next, she pulled out several packages in different sizes and grouped them by the front right corner. Of course, the papers and ribbons matched the garland. Nutcrackers in all different shapes and sizes—including one that looked like the scrumptious young Elvis, because why not?—stood sentry along the edge. From there, her imagination took over. A tree sprang up in the corner, hiding that ugly filing cabinet, a green tree skirt inlaid with gold encircling the trunk. A three-foot-tall ceramic set of Santa boots held a bouquet of plastic candy canes. Wreaths took up as much wall space as she could find.

  “Hey. Hey.” A stack of folders with legs approached. The stack landed on her desk, slid to the side, and toppled onto the ground, spreading paper in every direction. The woman who spilled them pushed her glasses up on her nose with her pointer finger. “Sorry. I thought I could make it to my desk.” She took in a couple quick breaths, her hand on her chest. “Well, this is just great.” After a moment of surveying the jumble, her eyes went wide. “Is that Christmas …” She spun in a slow circle in shock. When she stopped, she blinked slowly while looking at Frost. Frost could feel her surprise and then a tinge of envy of her purple eyes. She blushed slightly because she’d always liked them, but they were so different that she was almost afraid to.

  Frost pressed her palms together in front of her chest and bounced. “It’s great, right? I need a train to circle the tree, but that will have to wait.” Until you’re gone and I can pull it out of my purse without arousing suspicion.

  She sniffed, her nose wrinkling. “It smells like sugar and spice.”

  Frost giggled. She was the one who smelled like sugar and spice, but she couldn’t tell this woman that. “It’s just a Christmas scent.”

  “Did Mr. Cebu tell you to do this?”

  “Nope.” She grinned, pleased at herself for taking the initiative.

  The woman’s face paled and she muttered, “Well, it’s been nice knowing you.”

  Frost leaned forward, sure she’d misheard. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Never mind. I’m Zuzu.” She shoved her no-rim glasses up her nose again.

  “Nice to meet you.” Frost didn’t offer her name. Until she worked things out with Tannon, she wanted to remain anonymous. If she was going to spirit him off to the North Pole, the fewer people who remembered her, the better. “What’s all this?” She waved her hand across the folders.

  Zuzu shoved her blonde, chin-length curls away from her face. “It’s last quarter’s orders. I’m supposed to file them in the storage room, but …” She tugged at her hair.

  “Filing room? They have one of those?”

  Zuzu nodded slowly as if teaching a baby reindeer how to bounce in the snow. “It’s just down the hallway.”

  Frost’s excitement level climbed like the temperature on a candy thermometer in a batch of suckers. “Is that where these go?” She dug out the dentist, furniture, and other letters that didn’t need to go in to Tannon.

  Zuzu looked them over. “I know right where to put those.” She took them from Frost, walked around the desk, picked up the trash bin, and dropped them inside.

  Frost gasped in horror. “You—you throw them away?”

  “Yeah. They’re junk mail.”

  “Junk mail?”

  “Yeah—you know. Ads and things that are junk—clutter.”

  Frost’s jaw fell open. Seriously? “We don’t have that where I come from.”

  “You’re lucky. We have it in droves. But I guess I should be glad, because it’s job security.”

  “How so?”

  Zuzu laughed. “Who do you think makes the paper that they print those bad boys on?”

  Oh. Frost glanced around the office at the many people hunched over their computer screens or scratching words on legal pads. “Then I guess it isn’t junk after all.”

  Zuzu pulled her eyebrows together. “I guess …” Though she had agreed, it sounded like she was skeptical. Her gaze fell onto the files all over Frost’s desk. “I’ve made a mess of things.”

  Tannon took that moment to step out of his office. “What in the …”

  He gaped at the decorations and then glared at the mess on Frost’s desk. All her hard work this morning tidying up and organizing was hidden under the rainbow of folders. So much for chilling Tannon’s stress level.

  Zuzu straightened to her full five-foot-three height. “I’ll get it cleaned up right away.”

  “And who is going to clean up these decorations?” His nose wrinkled in distaste.

  Frost pla
nted her hand on her hip. “What’s wrong with the decorations?”

  “It’s not Christmas.”

  “For those who believe, Christmas is all year long.”

  He stared at her for a moment as if trying to figure out if she was serious. She lifted one eyebrow, telling him she was serious. So serious about Christmas.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Did you sort the mail?”

  She was not his personal assistant, and she wasn’t exactly pleased with his tone either. Trying to remain Kringle cheery—after all, that was the whole point of decorating: to bring some holly jolly into the office—she replied, “Yes. And your emails are done too, and I still had time to decorate the office.”

  “I didn’t approve the expense.”

  “You didn’t have to. I’ll take care of it.”

  “I expect you to ask me before you do something like this again.”

  “Then you’re going to be disappointed.” The words were out so quickly that she barely had time to register she’d said them before his surprise hit her like a westerly wind.

  Zuzu giggled. She clamped her hand over her mouth to smother the sound.

  Tannon sized up Frost. She lifted her chin and smiled the smile of an innocent child caught peeking under the tree.

  “Get these files cleaned up, now. This is an office, not a Christmas soiree.”

  Zuzu bent her head and gathered up files. “Yes, Mr. Cebu.”

  “See that you do.” He glanced at Frost once before stepping backwards and shutting the door in his own face.

  Zuzu sent her a questioning look. “I’ve never heard anyone stand up to him like that.” She glanced over her. “And you’re so sweet-looking. Who knew there was a bit of spice in you?”

  Christmas Magic had an idea. That’s why she smelled like sugar and spice. At least, that was her theory. Her sisters were as baffled by the spicy scent as Zuzu. Little did they know …

  Frost lifted her shoulders in reply. “Let me help you get this picked up.” The amount of filing on the floor was sensational—a challenge she couldn’t pass up. Nothing got this disorganized at the North Pole.

  “I couldn’t let you do that. You have your own work.”

  Frost rubbed her hands together and laughed in her throat. “It’ll be done before you can sing an eighth note.” She dropped to her knees, her plaid pants stretching over her rear end. Heaven help her if Tannon were to come out of his office at this moment.

  Tannon was … different than she’d pictured him. He was more handsome than she dared wish. When a girl daydreams of her prince, he’s always handsome. But somehow she’d kept the details fuzzy enough in her head that his strong jaw and intelligent eyes were a surprise. The biggest shock was his gruffness. Her adorable pen pal was as unrefined as scrap paper. Could she really spend the rest of her life with a man so stormy? She set aside a pile of straightened files and stood. The big question she needed answered was, which Tannon was the real Tannon Cebu?

  Chapter 6

  Tannon pressed his palm against his office door and held it shut as he backed as far away as he could while still ensuring Ms. Cratchit didn’t come after him. He couldn’t afford to have that woman too close. She was startlingly beautiful. Her hair, as white as a blanket of snow, framed her heart-shaped face to perfection. And those eyes! Purple if they were any color at all, they had gripped his thoughts and not let go even as she defied him. How was a man to concentrate when a woman as intoxicating as Ms. Cratchit was around?

  Even as his mind registered that she wasn’t in the room, he could smell her sugar-and-spice scent. The smell was familiar, as if he’d caught the memory of it before, though he couldn’t remember where. Pleasant emotions and thoughts associated with the scent, and it was difficult to shake off a sense of déjà vu. Maybe a girl in college had worn that fragrance. Yes, that had to be the answer. He’d dated some then, kissed a few women, but once Brody came into the picture, they didn’t stick around. Beautiful women had options, and time and again he was considered option #2.

  He’d have to let Ms. Cratchit go, tell her that she wasn’t working out. That would take care of his worry that she was there as a spy for the foreman as well as the strange mix of attraction and fascination she stirred inside of him.

  Settling behind his desk, he steeled himself against the task of searching for the reports he needed. With a click of the mouse, he was in his inbox—his surprisingly empty inbox. There were eight unopened emails, all of them relevant to his daily tasks, and everything else had been deleted or filed.

  Ms. Cratchit had cleaned out his inbox in under a half hour—and turned the foyer into a Christmas boutique. How on earth? He clicked on the daily emissions report and read through. With that done, he moved on to the next item on his list. By lunch, he felt as though he was back on top of things.

  He’d need to tell her she’d done well and give her another task. If he was paying her for a day’s worth of work, he’d be sure to get his money’s worth. Perhaps she was up to something more challenging than sorting mail.

  Striding purposely across the room, he yanked the door open, bracing himself. His efforts to fortify himself against her infectious smile and innocent air were in vain, because Ms. Cratchit was nowhere in sight. He stepped cautiously into the area, looking both ways. The decorations hadn’t been moved. She’d put them up in the blink of an eye but wasn’t able to take them down as quickly? What kind of game was she playing?

  He frowned. Not a glimpse of Ms. Cratchit or her wild pants could be found, and yet a nutcracker the size of a large dog stood outside his door. James, a man as bald as Tannon and as round as he was short, waddled by.

  “James.” Tannon’s voice was like a whip cracking through the office. The soft sound of typing ceased, and heads ducked below their half walls.

  James stood at attention, the tips of his ears turning red. “Y-yes?”

  “Have you seen the temp?” He refused to call her his assistant. She’d only be there for the rest of the day. Something inside of him was saddened by the fact. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been around pretty women before. He had. But the last woman who’d made his heart thud like a big bass drum had left him with a bundle in blue blankets to raise. He’d kept track of Heather for a few years; it was easy while she was at college. After that, she’d disappeared, and Brody was four. He never asked about his mom, so Tannon let her go for both their sakes.

  James’s three chins bounced. “She’s in the filing room with Zuzu. I believe they’re reorganizing.”

  Tannon scowled. He could only imagine what Ms. Cratchit considered organization. Fairy lights over the Fs? Bells over the Bs? He’d better get in there. “Thank you, James.”

  James hurried off as fast as his short legs could take him. Tannon watched him go. People hadn’t always run away from him; at one point in his life, people liked to be around him. Some of the people in this very office. While he’d interned under his father, he’d smiled and said hello, talked around the water cooler. Now the employees averted their eyes when he passed their desks. Some kept their backs to him, staring at their computer screens as if they were deep into their tasks. But he could see their eyes follow him in the reflection from the computer screen.

  The file room was near the empty kitchen, which smelled like bleach.

  “This will save me so much time.” Zuzu was on the floor, her feet out in front of her as she filled out labels for legal-sized file folders.

  “I hope so. A properly filed document should be a snap to find.” Ms. Cratchit snapped her fingers. A few hours of work hadn’t dimmed her beauty nor her smile. In fact, she appeared to be in her element—more at home here than he’d ever felt. She pulled order forms from folders and arranged them into neat piles along the far wall.

  Tannon blinked several times, amazed at how quickly the piles grew. They had almost half a year of order forms laid out there on the floor. The corners of his mouth tugged even farther down than they had been as he walked through the office.
“What’s going on here?”

  Zuzu scrambled to her feet. Her wiry curls sprang out in all directions and a deep red blush crept up her neck. “Mr. Cebu. We were just overhauling the filing system. Ms. Cratchit had this idea …” Her arms dropped limp at her side.

  Tannon had no choice but to face Ms. Cratchit. Meeting her gaze had the same effect on him as it had that morning. She took his breath away. He was suddenly very aware of his lack of hair and slight limp. They didn’t bother him as a boss. He could manage the company as well as any man; he wasn’t missing half his brains. But when it came to women, he was less than the ideal in so many ways, and for some reason, he didn’t want her to see him as less than anything.

  Ms. Cratchit didn’t scramble as if he were a green and hairy monster that had climbed out from the supply closet. Her movements were as graceful as a dancer in the Nutcracker ballet his mother made them attend every Christmas. And she didn’t shy away from looking at him, really looking at him with her head tipped to the side—adorably inquisitive.

  Despite how at home she appeared, she didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong in this office. She belonged in the forest, singing with forest critters and birds like one of those animated princesses. For some reason, the thought made him happy.

  He started. She was doing something to him. If she was a spy—which he wasn’t saying she was and he wasn’t saying she wasn’t, but part of her job would be to get him to trust her—he couldn’t let down his guard. He was going to sell this company and take Brody and move far away, where they could start over. No one in the new town would know of his fight for his life, his mistakes, or his father’s shadow.

  “I didn’t hire you to restructure our filing system,” he said by way of reprimand. That whip was still in his voice and he couldn’t seem to shake it. The tone was much too harsh for someone as soft as Ms. Cratchit, and he felt like a heel. He couldn’t take it back, though. He needed barriers between them and they would be stronger if she put up a few of her own.