Full Contact Decorating

by Robin Weaver

  Suzette stopped wiping the counter and glared. “You’re what?”

  Uh-oh. Apparently, Suzette hadn’t told Kaley. The last thing Katrina wanted to do was come between the two women. She wasn’t overly fond of Kaley, but Suzette was the woman’s best friend. Suzette had done too much for her—Katarina certainly didn’t want to cause problems.

  The barista put her latte on the counter. Finally.

  “Thanks,” she said, her smile feeling as brittle as new formed ice on the town pond.

  “Hold on,” Kaley demanded as Suzette turned to escape.

  So close to escape. “Yes?” she said, almost wishing she hadn’t decided to become a nicer person. The old Katarina wouldn’t have cared what Kaley wanted. That Katarina would have marched right out the door without as much as a backward glance.

  “Care to make another bet on the contest? Shall we say five hundred bucks? For charity, of course”

  Katarina swallowed a sip of her latte, stalling. She couldn’t afford to lose, not now. Especially since her tree design had been compromised. As much as she wanted to win, she wasn’t certain enough to make that kind of bet.

  “You don’t seriously want to make another silly bet?”

  “Silly?” Kaley wiped over the just-cleaned counter. “Since Suzette has no entry, you probably think you have the contest wrapped up with a great big bow. Not so. Bette’s Bakery has a new designer who previously worked on the Macy’s display in New York.”

  “That’s great for the contest,” Katarina replied, forcing her mouth to smile. The news was terrible for her two-step life plan.

  “Yeah, right.” Kaley snorted. “I bet you’re too scared to take my bet.”

  Katarina experienced a sense of déjà vu. Kaley had uttered that same “you’re scared” challenge last year—right before Katrina’s world fell apart. After she lost the bet, and her ten-year unbeaten streak as the Merryvale Christmas Tree champion, she’d lost Tripp, her money, her health, and all her confidence.

  “Oh my God!” Kaley exclaimed. “You are scared.”

  Katarina was petrified, right down to home-done pedicured toes, but even her new kinder self wasn’t about to admit it. If she wanted to turn her life around, she needed to start believing in herself. At least that’s what her psychologist kept saying.

  “You’re on, McIntire.”

  She skirted around a man walking into the coffee shop and bolted for the door.

  Even if she didn’t need to escape, her workload had doubled. Not only did she have to run the florist shop, she had to completely redesign a Christmas tree.

  Chapter Two

  Deck the Halls…with Shiny Red Balls

  Katarina stopped outside the shop, as she did every morning, to study her handiwork in the window of the florist shop. After her encounter with Kaley, the red and silver display didn’t bring the same joy as yesterday.

  Her head still reeled over her foolishness. Why on earth had she let Kaley goad her into a bet? Even if she could somehow manage to find her confidence, even if she conjured up a fabulous theme, too many things could go wrong in a subjective contest. She couldn’t afford to lose fifty dollars, let alone five hundred.

  Swallowing a bah, humbug, she pushed open the door.

  “Where have you been?” Leo asked. “We’ve been open for over an hour.” The high school senior had been hired to help with the Mother’s Day rush and had worked harder than one of Santa’s elves. Katarina had been so impressed, she gave him a regular part-time job.

  None of your business, her brain replied. Leo’s talent didn’t given him the right to demand answers about her whereabouts.

  Katarina managed to keep the tart reply from relaying to her mouth. Suzette would never bark at an employee, so neither would she. Being nice all the time was enough to give a healthy woman a migraine. How did Suzette do it?

  She might not have Suzette’s benevolence, but Katarina did have three times the business sense. In the nine months she’d been managing Forrester Florals, profits had increased by seventy-five percent. That profit included the expense of Leo’s salary.

  “Tuesday mornings are generally slow, so I took care of some errands,” she said, flashing a smile that made men of all ages more compliant. “Everything okay?”

  The kid grinned. “Got everything under control here, boss lady.”

  If he thought the boss lady title would annoy her, he thought wrong. “Good.”

  “There is this one thing.”

  She stopped removing her coat and turned to study his face. What in the name of tinsel had Leo done now? He might be worth his wage, but last week he’d left two dozen roses out of water and the week before he’d spilled a bag of perlite all over the shop floor. “What thing?”

  “There’s a guy waiting in your office.”

  A guy? “A vendor?” she asked.

  Leo shook his head. “No. Said he’s here to see you personally.

  Tripp? Only why had he come to the florist shop? “I’ll go see what he wants.”

  The kid had skirted around the counter and was helping her with her coat. “There’s more.”

  “Spill.” She took her coat from him, not impressed with his gallantry. Boy usually had an ulterior motive for being nice.

  “Ms. Forrester’s been calling all morning.”

  “Suzette?” She frowned. Suzette never called in the morning. Something must be wrong. She reached for her cell, but stuck it back into her pocket.

  Grabbing her Forrester Florals apron, she headed toward the back. If something was wrong, she shouldn’t talk in front of Leo.

  She smacked right into something solid. And tall.

  “What the…”

  She stared up into the face of some Ryan Gosling look-alike, and looking up at a man was something a five-foot-ten-inch woman rarely did.

  Right. Leo said a man waited in her office. Only who was he? And what was the hunka-hunka doing in her office?

  “About time you got here,” he said, with no trace of a polite in his voice.

  “Who the devil…” She bit her lip, remembering her resolution to be nice. How the holly berries could she learn to be nice if everyone kept barking at her? “How can I help you?” she said, revising both her words and tone.

  The man ran his hand over his sandy brown hair—a gesture that couldn’t have screamed he-man any louder if he’d done it while bulldogging a steer. “Suzette didn’t call?”

  Hell. The one morning she didn’t get into the office at nine sharp. And if the man was that all-fired important, why hadn’t Suzette called her cell? “I just got the message to call her.”

  “Don’t snap at me. I’m here to help you. You’re the one keeping golf course hours.” Judging by the man’s accent and elf-you attitude, he’d come from New York.

  And she hadn’t snapped. Not yet, anyway.

  Her last ounce of nice ran for cover as a whole army of bitchy raced in. “You? You’re here to help me?”

  The man huffed out a deep breath. “Here. Suzette thought you might want to use these for that contest thing.” He motioned toward her desk, which held four identical boxes. The top one had a dozen shiny red balls.

  “Really? Suzette sent you to send me some big tacky Christmas decorations? I don’t think so. Are you selling these?” Man must be a vendor who’d gotten Suzette’s name of the new website she’d created. The things salesmen would do to get their feet in the door.

  The guy took a step closer. Geez, but he was tall. Even in her heels—her shorter heels, mind you, because she was working—she had to look up to stare him in the eye; an eye the color of a holly leaf and every bit as vibrant.

  “My invention is revolutionary, Miss Snot-grass, not tacky.”

  Katarina blinked, trying to get her in-your-face bearings back. The man’s intensity disoriented her. “The name is Snodgrass, buster. There’s nothing postnasal about me. And there’s nothing revolutionary about red shiny balls. People have been using them for decades.”

>   The man blinked right back. “Well, my name is Montgomery and my skinny red balls are a technological wonder.”

  Katarina burst into laughter—an auto-response to insanity and stress, she supposed. She’d imagined his balls in reindeer-covered boxers.

  She sobered quickly. The man might be a stud muffin of the first order, but she didn’t have time for jerks. “Your mother named you Montgomery?” she asked. Suddenly she had to fight off another bout of giggles.

  “No,” he frowned. The minute smile that graced his face faded with her question. “That’s my last name?”

  “And your first name is?” Why the Dickens had she asked that? She didn’t care who he was. She had a full schedule. She couldn’t waste another second with this foul-toned fiend, no matter how gorgeous his face.

  The man hesitated.

  “Let me guess,” she said. “Hannibal? Attila?”

  “Ha-ha. Tell you what, Ms. Snodgrass, why don’t I take my balls and go home. Suzie said you probably wouldn’t want to use them anyway. Too bad…for you.” He grabbed the nearest box and packed it into a large black case.

  If Suzette didn’t think she’d use the kitschy crap, why had she sent the man? “Hold on.”

  The man stopped moving, looking at her with a quit-wasting-my-time wariness. He didn’t speak, as if talking to her was now beneath him.

  “Why would Suzette send you? With those? Every drugstore tree in America has ornaments like that.”

  Chapter Three

  Do You Hear What I Heard Wrong?

  Drugstore decorations? Hunter would never listen to Suzette again. “You clearly don’t know what you’re talking about, Ms. Snodgrass.”

  He hurried to pack his boxes and rushed out of her office. Using his foot, he kicked open the exterior door, hoping it would slam. It didn’t.

  With any luck, he could reschedule with the shopping channel representative next week. What on earth had Suzette been thinking? Spence’s wife insisted the product was too good to sell via television. She was probably right, and maybe he was selling out, but selling out meant cash, lots of the green stuff. He had student loans and frozen dinners had gotten old.

  He’d certainly rather sell out than work with that ring-tailed bitch in the florist shop. Hell, bitch might be too small a word for one Katarina Snotty Snodgrass. She hadn’t even seen his invention in action and she’d proclaimed it tacky.

  He ignored the little voice in his head that said, “That’s the problem. She didn’t see it.”

  Back at the hotel, he shoved the change of clothing he no longer needed into a duffle. He’d planned to drive over to Asheville to visit his dad, but now had no enthusiasm for the trip. He’d be back in North Carolina for Christmas. He could see his old man then.

  He jerked his phone out of his pocket and hit the speed dial for Spence. The only reason he’d agreed to the waste-of-a-trip was to appease his business partner.

  “How’d it go?” Spence’s voice boomed from many cell towers away.

  “To hell in a sleigh. That Snodgrass woman is a bitch.” Hell. Hunter hadn’t planned on wording his complaint quite that way, but something in Spence’s tone set him on edge. His good friend had been a normal guy while he’d dated Darlene, but after hooking up with Suzette, he’d become the poster man for the good life.

  Hunter wished Spence nothing but the best, but his “I’m so happy, happy, happy” syrup could rot a man’s teeth. Hunter did not want what Spence had—far too greeting-card for him. Even so, his friend’s bliss made him feel…restless. Not specifically like something was missing, but he felt…alone.

  Rudolph’s balls. He liked alone.

  “Well, I could have told you that,” Spence replied, laughing afterward.

  “Then why did you agree with your pretty little wife and say I should waste an entire day flying to these godforsaken mountains.”

  “Hold on there,” Spence’s voice had lost all of its holly-jolly. “God lives in those mountains. And Katarina might be a first-class bitch, but if you want HollyGrams to take off without selling out, she’s the woman.”

  “You know her?”

  “Of course I know her. We went to school together. We were together for a brief time. But I was young and foolish in those days.”

  “Well, you’re old and foolish now. I’m rescheduling with the television shopping guy.”

  Spence made a clicking sound, making Hunter think he’d just made the naughty list. Not fair. All things considered, he’d been extremely polite. And what had he gotten in return? Be-bitched.

  “You must have gotten the full Katarina treatment. Weird, she’s normally nice to good-looking guys.” Spence paused. “What did you do to her? Say she was fat?”

  “You’re blaming this on me? You just said she was a bitch. Why would you think I did anything?” Talk about your gross unfairness.

  “Because Katarina is only bitchy when she doesn’t like someone, or someone is being stupid. Never mind,” Spence said, his voice breaking. “I think I just answered my own question.” His friend laughed. And kept laughing. The sound grew faint.

  “Hunter?” Crap—Suzette’s voice. He’d failed her. “What happened?”

  ****

  Katarina counted to ten and then slammed her office door. She quickly opened it again, realizing she’d messed up. There might be other customers in the store. Decent customers.

  “Everything okay?” Leo yelled.

  Katarina took a deep breath. As arrogant as one Hunter Montgomery had been, he wasn’t the reason she was really mad. Her temper had been riled because Suzette didn’t trust her. Worse, Suzette might be right. She’d thought her year of being lost had finally ended, but she still couldn’t seem to find her efficient self.

  She’d been a winner before her collapse. Why couldn’t she get back on the sleigh ride? For some reason that completely eluded her, winning the Christmas Tree Contest for Forrester Florals was far more important than any of the contests before. She’d messed up her chances by choosing the Phantom of the Opera theme. Even before she’d learned Bette’s Bakery planned to use the same motif, Katarina hadn’t been thrilled with the idea. Only for the first time in her thirty years of life, she couldn’t think of anything better.

  Worse, she had four dozen realistic-looking roses, ten strands of natural-looking pearls, and no idea what to do with them. Maybe she could go with a Grandma’s Closet theme.

  She almost wanted to shove a finger down her throat. Only she’d never do that again.

  “Katty?” Leo waved a skinny hand in her face. “You all right?”

  She nodded. “Yes, sorry. Please tell me there aren’t any customers in the shop.”

  The kid grinned. “Nah. Your little temper tantrum is our little secret. Will cost you a Benny burger, though.

  “Little snot.”

  He grabbed his chest. “You wound me. But seriously, woman. What’s up with you? Ain’t like you to lose your cool.”

  She sighed. “I know. That man was infuriating. I can’t believe Suzette thought his decorations would work for our tree.”

  Katarina waited patiently for Leo to stop laughing—or making that hooting noise she presumed was a laugh. Where had she put her latte?

  “Looking for this?” Leo held the Brew Mistress take-out cup.

  “Thanks.” The boy really was worth a lot more than his minimum wage salary.

  He handed her the cup. “You know, for a smart lady, sometimes you act pretty lame.”

  “Lame?”

  “I ain’t no expert.”

  Clearly. Experts rarely used the word ain’t.

  Katarina sighed. “There’s a but coming, right?”

  Leo nodded, grinning again. “I’d say you were set up.”

  Katarina took a gulp of her latte. She needed some caffeine. “I don’t follow.”

  The teenager held up his hands in a what you gonna do gesture. “Good-looking man. Sent here by your friend on a lame-ass excuse. Just sayin’.”

&nbs
p; “Saying what?”

  Leo merely shrugged.

  She supposed Hunter was good-looking. Too bad the man ruined all that hotness by being an arrogant pig.

  Still, Suzette would never…

  Figgie pudding. The boy was right. Did Suzette think she was so pathetic she couldn’t get a man on her own?

  “I’ll be in my office.” Grabbing her drink, she stifled her again-growing temper and gently closed the door. She clicked on Suzette’s number and sucked in a deep breath while she waited.

  “Katarina, I was just going to call you.”

  “Call me?” Katarina sucked in more air, but she’d need an igloo full of arctic oxygen to put a dent in her ire. Venting her justifiable rage would mean losing her cool and the new Katarina didn’t do that. “So I’m guessing Mr. Arrogant Ass whined to you?”

  Suzette laughed, not helping Katarina’s justifiable rage. “He called Spence, actually, but I interceded.”

  “Why was he here?” There, she’d said that without too much venom in her tone.

  “Don’t get mad, Kat. I’m not trying to interfere with your tree design, honest. It’s just…”

  Tree design? Katarina rubbed her temple. Maybe Suzette wasn’t trying to help her in the get-a-man department.

  Still, Suzette had won the tree contest last year. She’d know those stupid red balls had loser written all over them.

  “Just what?” Katarina asked. “Just that a tall, hunky man might be the cure for what ails me? You disappoint me, Suze.”

  “What on earth are you talking about? I’d never try to set you up. God knows you can have any man you want. Spence and Hunter are partners and I thought if you could use his animated ornaments—but only if you want to—it would help launch the product. I think Hunter’s design is going to be the biggest thing since icicle lights. I called to talk to you about a stake in the company in return for your marketing prowess.”

  “Hold on.” Katarina took another gulp of her latte. She clearly needed the jolt because Suzette’s words made no sense. “You weren’t trying to set me up with that guy?”

  “Good God, no.” Suzette made another little laughing sound. “I doubt Hunter will ever settle down. And I thought… Rather, I sensed you want to get back with Tripp.”