Whispers of Winter: A Limited Edition Collection of Winter Romances

by Nicole Morgan

  His father stopped pacing, turned and looked back out the window at the view.

  Hemi studied the strong back of his father. Hemi and Deuce resembled each other in more ways than in just name. Deuce’s thick brown hair was streaked with gray while Hemi’s was still thick and brown. They both were broad-shouldered with trim waists. Their muscular frames highlighted by the excellent cut of their suits. It was obvious Hemi took after his father right down to his dark eyes gleaming with intelligence.

  Despite the ups and downs of his relationship with his father, Hemi loved and respected him. Though the thought of him retiring bothered Hemi, Deuce had been the head of Hemingway Industries Hemi’s whole life.

  Hell, Hemi admitted HI was a great company to work at due almost entirely to Deuce’s efforts.

  There was a slight air of tiredness about him Hemi had never noticed before. The burden of worrying about so many people’s livelihood for so many years appeared to be catching up with Deuce.

  The illusion of weakness disappeared as soon as Roman Fitzgerald Hemingway the Second turned and faced him. His father was still a strong man ready to battle anyone, including his son, for the sake of his company and employees.

  “I don’t understand why you don’t think I will be able to take over the business, Deuce,” Hemi addressed his father by the nickname from his wild youth. His father needed a reminder he got his wild streak honestly.

  His father winced.

  Hemi scored a hit.

  Time to prepare for battle, Hemi thought with a sigh as he stiffened his spine, ready for the lecture to kick it up another notch. One thing he counted on was his father being predictable. Hemi’s father turned and looked at him.

  Hemi looked into a pair of brown eyes faded with weariness. He was surprised to see disappointment. He was prepared to deal with ‘angry father’, but not ‘disappointed dad’. He didn’t know the cause of the look, but the fight drained from him.

  “I want to announce my retirement at this year’s Christmas party in ten months.” Deuce unexpectedly told Hemi.

  Hemingway Industries, the family coffee business, was a big part of Hemi’s life in one capacity or another. It even influenced his choice of college studies. Due to HI, Hemi graduated with his Master’s in Business, from UCLA. As far back as he remembered his summers and his time off between semesters were spent learning every aspect of the family business. He worked in every department getting to know the coffee industry inside and out.

  He spent time on the different farms around the world where they cultivated their coffee beans.

  He knew the business.

  He started traveling with his father when he visited the different coffee shops and factories as a child.

  He even did a summer stint as a barista. His skills at making a latte or cappuccino rivaled the best of them. Hemi earned his position as the company’s top vice-president. Everything he did, was to prepare for the day his father retired, and he became the CEO of Hemingway Industries. Now it was about to become a reality, and his father didn’t have confidence in his ability to take HI into the future. It was a blow.

  “Why are you concerned about leaving the business in my hands?” Hemi made strong eye contact with his father, jaw clenching with determination, “I know this company inside and out.”

  “It is not your running of the company which has me concerned,” he sat forward, eyes wide, brow furrowed. The usual cold tone, a staple of his father, was gone. In its place was one filled with resignation and disappointment. He didn’t know what put his father in this mood, but it was making him uncomfortable. And he didn’t like being uncomfortable.

  He was used to only three emotions from his father.

  Anger.

  Pride.

  And anger.

  “It is not the actual running of the company I am worried about. I have confidence in your ability to take Hemingway Industries into the future and beyond.” He reiterated as he walked over to the desk and picked up a newspaper and handed it to Hemi.

  Hemi looked at the headline and groaned.

  Underwear Model Expecting

  Party girl fashion model Olga Lorenson was seen leaving the offices of Family First OB/GYN. When asked if there was going to be an addition to her modeling career, Olga gave a mysterious smile and responded, “No Comment.” Recently Olga has been seen in the company of coffee heir Roman Fitzgerald Hemingway the Third. He is expected to take over from his father Roman Fitzgerald Hemingway the Second in the near future. Is a baby announcement followed by an engagement announcement on the horizon? We will keep you updated.

  Olga Lorenson, Hemi’s on again off again friend with benefits, they had a casual non-exclusive relationship, but lately, Olga had begun making noises towards wanting something more permanent with Hemi.

  Hemi recognized his cue to break things off with her.

  He was all about fun and games, but he was not looking to settle down. And even if he was, Olga’s party girl image was not exactly mother material or the image of the next matriarch of the Hemingway family.

  Hemi planned to marry someone like his mother. Lorraine Hemingway was beautiful, smart and caring. She was the Babe to his father’s Ruth; together they made the perfect candy bar with her personality offsetting his father’s cold demeanor. Though Hemi’s relationship with his father was not as demonstrative as his relationship with his mother, he always knew his parents loved him, and he knew he was his father’s pride and joy.

  He never doubted his parents love for each other. Deuce always softened when in Lorraine’s presence.

  Now he understood his father’s disappointment.

  “It’s not true. She is not pregnant with my child.” Hemi told his father.

  “It doesn’t matter if it is true or not in the eye of public opinion. Just the simple hint of it is enough to make it true.”

  His father spoke the truth. Just look at what was going on in the world. Even just being accused of sexual harassment nowadays was enough to kill a career. It didn’t matter if the person accused was guilty or not in the court of public opinion once you’re accused you were automatically guilty, and any good you’ve done in the past was negated.

  “What do you want me to do?” Hemi was willing to do anything to fix this. His father being angry with him wasn’t a new experience. The disappointment, however, that created the feeling of failure in Hemi.

  “Nothing too difficult. Find a nice girl. Date for a while and get married.”

  “Nice girl?” Hemi didn’t think he knew any nice girls.

  Where did one go even find a nice girl?

  Church?

  The Library?

  What was the natural habitat of a nice girl?

  What were his chances of finding a nice girl on the naughty list?

  This is what his father wanted, and this is what his father was going to get.

  “Alright.” He stood up and held out his hand to his father. If finding a woman and settling down would make his father worry less about the future of Hemingway Industries, then Hemi would find a nice woman. After all, he completed several important projects in his career this was just one more.

  Deuce gave him a hard look before he took Hemi’s hand. “Alright then.”

  Nice girl?

  Chapter Two

  Hemi threw himself into a chair at one of the tables in the coffee shop.

  The Espresso Train was his favorite coffee shop it was built out of an old train dining car. The train car inside’s had been restored to its original designs from the early nineteen-hundreds. The wooden tables polished to a high sheen, and the chair covers redone in their original red fabric. Even the curtains decorating the windows of the train car also been restored to match the fabric of the chair.

  Stepping into the Espresso Train was the equivalent of taking a luxurious step back in time. The only hint of modernization was the updated environmental system keeping the dining car at a comfortable temperature no matter the season and the expensiv
e machinery behind the bar providing the patrons with their caffeinated drink of choice.

  Each of the Hemingway’s coffee shops sported a unique theme. It made for great marketing, a lot of papers ran with a new opening and the tagline: “No two alike.” The similarities were in the product. Only the high-quality coffee served at all of them.

  He thanked the Barista that brought him his Espresso Romano and a slice of lemon. Hemi cradled the cup, leaning forward and inhaling the rich scent of the drink. Dark, rich flavors washed over him, stroking his soul and settling deep in his pores. A sense of peace and wellness came over him. His nerves settled. A headache throbbing at the back of his head ever since his talk with Deuce, receded. The robust smell of the coffee calmed his agitated soul, clearing his mind.

  Now he was ready to tackle the problem Deuce dropped in his lap. He enlisted the aid of his cousin Brad.

  The two of them grew up together and were thicker than thieves. The troubles they used to cause added a few of the wrinkles decorating Deuce’s brow. A part of Hemi hoped that helping him come up with a solution hopefully would give Brad something else to concentrate on besides the loss of his surgery career.

  The loss changed Brad.

  He ran the lemon along the rim of his cup, savoring his first drink. A slow sigh of satisfaction escaped from him. Finally, he could focus on and explain the situation; he glanced at his cousin.

  “So, what is this big emergency that has us drinking espresso so late in the day?” Brad asked him, “It's not like I am going to be called in for a late-night surgery so why hype myself up on caffeine?” Brad didn’t attempt to hide his bitterness.

  Bradley Jarrett Coopersmith the Fourth, Hemi’s cousin from his mother’s side of the family, was a couple of years younger than Hemi. Despite the age difference, for most of their lives, their relationship was a close friendship. Hemi could only recall one friendship closer than his and Brad, but his mind shied away from the memory. No good would come from unlocking it. Hemi screwed up, and there was no changing the past, only the future. Thoughts of withered friendships would not help him tackle this particular problem.

  Instead, he thought about the time Brad got caught and dressed up by his sisters. Hemi went over to Brad’s house to see if he wanted to play catch, only to find Brad dangling from a sheet outside of the playroom window.

  “Hey Brad, whatcha doing?” Hemi called up to his cousin dangling several feet above the ground.

  “Save me Hemi.” Brad called out, “They are trying to put my hair in ponytails.” Hemi looked at his cousin’s blonde ringlets. Brad’s sisters insisted their parents not cut off his curls. All of Brad’s sisters hair didn’t curl a stick. They were jealous of Brad’s curls.

  “Mom, Brad is hanging outside the window,” He heard his cousins call out. “Bradley get in here and let us finish your hair.”

  “No,” Brad shouted even as he slipped down his homemade rope a few more inches. Hemi rushed to stand under his cousin in case he fell. He was older than Brad and so should be able to catch him.

  “Seriously Brad. You’re messing up our tea party. If we don’t do your hair, then we will have uneven numbers.” She shouted down to him.

  “No.” Brad tightened his grip on his rope.

  Next thing Hemi saw was all of Brad’s sisters in the window as they started to haul him up by the sheet. Brad looked up at his sisters and then down at Hemi. He nodded to himself before deciding. He let go of the rope, falling. Hemi didn’t catch him quite as he planned. Brad instead landed on him. Hemi broke his fall and his arm along with Brad’s arm. Hemi smiled at the memory of the fun they had that summer with their matching casts.

  Together, they appealed to the men of the family, to shield them, and to help them grow. It worked, instead of being at the beck and call of the females, they spent more of their time together.

  That bond carried on, and now both men topped six feet in height. Strong wide shoulders made them perfect for their high school and college football team, though neither of them had a desire to be beat up and tackled by members of their own sex.

  Now, thrown on the ground and letting some of the female members of the student body have their way with them, that was a different story. There was never a shortage of women for the two men, part of it was their looks, the other part, confidence. Something neither of them lacked, until Brad’s accident.

  Brad’s blonde hair and blue eyes made him the poster boy for the all-American male while Hemi’s brown eyes and sable brown hair made him the poster boy for the man mothers warned their daughters about. It was the wicked smile and charming air surrounding him that lead him to land in hot water. Well, that and his inability to say no to a pretty woman with a smoking hot body.

  “My father has decided it is time for me to meet a nice girl and settle down.” He groaned.

  Hemi frowned when Brad burst out laughing. It wasn’t a simple laugh. No, it was a loud booming laugh causing several patrons to look at them in curiosity.

  Glancing around to ensure no one was focusing too much attention on them, not wanting anyone to hear his embarrassing predicament, Hemi noticed a young woman sitting across from them who looked up from her computer to frown in their direction before turning her attention back to her laptop.

  She drew his gaze, something about her attracting his attention. Glancing her over, he absently noted her skin was the same color as his favorite spice. He frowned lightly, a sense of familiarity drifted over him.

  He wondered if he licked her skin, would it taste as good as the expensive Ceylon cinnamon he loved to add to his coffee? The same sweet and mild taste of Ceylon cinnamon he fell in love with on a buying trip to Brazil with his father when he was younger. When times simpler times. Sometimes being thirty-two felt far older than the simple numbers indicated.

  Shaking his head, he almost laughed at himself. He had a task to complete, and it did not involve another potential scandal. No, he better not think such thoughts about a girl her age. Those types of thoughts were illegal, and he didn’t look good in felon orange. Besides, he got into enough trouble with females his own age, hence his current situation.

  “Earth to Hemi, come in Hemi,” he turned his gaze back to his cousin and away from the tempting little morsel sitting across the aisle from them.

  Jailbait.

  She was total jailbait.

  The Espresso Train seating arrangement consisted of four-person tables on one side of the train and two-person tables on the other side. The close seating wasn’t conducive to private conversation. But Hemi didn’t want to be at home alone, stewing on his future.

  He wasn’t even sure he would be good husband material. He hadn’t been in a committed relationship since high school. That hadn’t worked out well either. If his best friend hadn’t moved away, he was pretty sure he would have married her as soon as they came of age. He shook himself out of those thoughts before he took an unwelcome trip down memory lane.

  “What?” he frowned back at Brad.

  “You are supposed to be finding a life partner not drooling over hot girls while sipping a latte. Especially not hot girls that can get you jail time.”

  “Espresso Romano.”

  “Whatever,” Brad didn’t hide his exasperated tone. “So, your dad wants you to settle down with a nice girl?” Brad gave Hemi a once over. “You’re almost thirty-three, and it is time you settle down, start a family. The head of Hemingway Industries should project the image of a settled family man and not of a playboy. It will instill confidence in the stockholders and the employees of the company.”

  “You agree with him?” Hemi was stunned.

  “Yes,” Brad shrugged, “you can’t act like a playboy your whole life. You have a responsibility. You’re just lucky your father hasn’t married you off years ago in some business merger.”

  “This is not the eighteen hundreds.” Irritation tinged his tone.

  “And you’re not a damsel in distress. So, put your big girl panties on and su
ck it up, Buttercup.” Hemi looked at his cousin blinking at him; it was like he was seeing a stranger.

  Brad never spoke to him in such a stern manner before his accident. Usually, it was the two of them against the world, and now his number one partner in crime was advocating the straight and narrow. What fresh hell did he fall into? The only good thing about it all of this was that this was the most emotion, outside of sadness and bitterness, he saw on his friend’s face.

  He sat there silently thinking about what Brad said. It wasn’t that he was wrong, it just…letting go of the past.

  Brad wasn’t his only childhood friend. He thought back to Kamiya. He was just the childhood friend that stuck around.

  He sighed. Brad was right. His father was right. He was almost thirty-three, and he couldn’t act like a playboy for the rest of his life. He did want to settle down and have a family. He just didn’t know how to go about finding the marrying type of woman. The women he knew were party girls like Olga Lorenson, women who knew the score and commitment was not part of the bargain. He dumped Olga as soon as she started throwing out hints about making their relationship more permanent. He knew it was not a powerful love Olga felt for him, but a powerful attraction to his bank account.

  “Okay, so let's entertain this idea for a few moments.”

  Even though he was salty about Brad switching over to the other side, he was still Hemi’s best friend, and if anyone could help him out, it would be Brad. “Where in the hell would I meet the type of woman my father and the employees would approve of?”

  A loud snort sounded close to them.

  Hemi looked in the direction, Jailbait’s head was down, swinging to a beat coming through her earbuds, a huge grin on her lips. Hemi could hear the music sounding despite the distance separating them. It was impossible for her to be listening to their conversation. Something on her laptop screen must be amusing her.