by Aiden Bates
Snowed In
Aiden Bates
© 2016
Disclaimer
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.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and events are all fictitious for the reader’s pleasure. Any similarities to real people, places, events, living or dead are all coincidental.
This book contains sexually explicit content that is intended for ADULTS ONLY (+18).
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Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
BONUS Chapter Thirteen
The Story is Done But…
Author’s Note
Books By Aiden
Chapter One – Contents
The store smelled like wine bins and old books. Austin took the time to enjoy the familiarity of it as he walked into the shop to start his day. It wasn’t just personal enjoyment that made him breathe deep while he walked through the door. No, it was to make sure that the guy who had opened that day hadn’t taken advantage of the solitude to light up on the job.
Jamie was a good guy. He showed up on time, and he gave advanced notice when he needed time off. He didn’t have any kids that needed to be picked up at the school nurse’s office in the middle of the day, and he didn’t do things like pass out at a girlfriend’s place and forget his pants. But he did have one vice and that vice was weed.
Austin didn’t have a problem with pot in general. He didn’t indulge in it himself, but he didn’t care what other people did on their own time. As long as they weren’t hurting other people, what they did wasn’t any business of his. It was only when Jamie brought his favorite pastime into the store, where the police were likely to take an interest, that Austin had had anything at all to say about it.
It had been six months since Austin had last discovered Jamie with a little white paper resting on the edge of a hideous, probably handmade, ashtray on the edge of the sales counter. They’d discussed the issue in the calm and logical way that only the profoundly stoned could manage, and afterward Jamie had only showed up with the vague, lingering scent of marijuana around his body instead of leaving a huge cloud for his boss to walk in to.
“Morning, Jamie.” Austin walked up to the sales counter.
Jamie looked Austin over with bloodshot eyes. “You look rumpled, boss man.”
Austin considered that as he shrugged off his jacket. “Maybe a little. I ran into Louis at the Inn last night. He’d been there for a while and he was feeling confrontational.”
Jamie winced. “Yikes. If there was ever a dude who could use a good toke, Louis was it.”
Austin lifted his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, maybe. I don’t know. I mean he was really nasty last night.” He paused and looked down the “France” aisle, the bottles of reds blending together. “I’m not sure if I should cut him some slack; he was obviously more hurt by our split than I thought he would be.”
Jamie scratched at his gray, curly hair. “Um, didn’t he break it off with you?”
Austin huffed out a little laugh. “I know, right?” He shook his head and headed into his office.
Jamie followed him. Jamie didn’t do boundaries, or at least didn’t do them well. “I don’t think that he gets to bitch and moan, dude.”
Austin booted up his laptop. “Yeah. Probably not. Doesn’t seem to be stopping him, at least not after six Cosmos.” He sat down in his chair and turned back to Jamie. “I don’t think much would stop anyone, after six Cosmos.”
“In vino veritas.” Jamie looked around at the rows of neatly stacked wine bottles and giggled.
“Yeah, yeah.” Austin knew he shouldn’t encourage Jamie, but that one was actually funny. Well, it was funny except for the parts where it wasn’t. He could still hear Louie’s voice in his ears. I would have given you forever, you son of a bitch. Why wasn’t I good enough for you?
The thing was, things had been good with Louis. They’d had great chemistry. Their interests had been similar enough that they could do things together, but disparate enough that they hadn’t clumped together like overcooked spaghetti. They hadn’t spent all of their time together. There had been no discussion of mating, of babies, and that had been by mutual agreement.
Austin had been content with that. He thought Louis had been, too. Which was why the ultimatum, Let me claim you or I’m gone, had thrown Austin for a loop. Still, there had been only one possible response. Louis couldn’t blame anyone but himself for the results.
None of that was Jamie’s problem. He’d just offer Austin a joint, and right about now Austin would have to think long and hard about why he should say no. “Anything I should know about?” he asked, turning the conversation back to work.
Jamie leaned his considerable bulk against the doorframe and looked up at the ceiling. “Um, the delivery from Boston is held up in customs.”
“Well, isn’t that exciting?” Austin flipped a pen up into the sky and caught it. The lack of delivery from his Boston distributer was annoying, but he could live with that. Stevie only dealt in Greek wine. He could either jack the prices on the Greek wines temporarily to keep them on the shelves, or he could find a new distributor. Maybe both. The Greek wines weren’t big sellers in Skaneateles anyway; maybe he should limit them to his wholesale business. “Any other news?”
Jamie ran his tongue inside his mouth from cheek to cheek. It was a weird habit, one that kind of grossed Austin out if he had to be honest about it. “Oh yeah. Some guy called.”
Austin stared. When Jamie didn’t elaborate, he rolled his hand around in the air, encouraging him to continue. “Narrow it down for me here, Jamie. I haven’t had enough coffee yet.”
“Oh. Right. Uh, it was a guy. He does weddings?”
Austin counted to five in his head in two different languages. “Okay. Is he a minister? A rabbi? Justice of the peach?”
Jamie giggled at Austin’s joke. “No, dude. He’s, like, he plans weddings. Like, he makes them go, makes sure that the bride gets what she wants and the groom doesn’t run away and stuff.”
“Oh. A wedding planner. Okay.” Austin leaned back and put his feet up on the desk. He didn’t see any emails in his in box. “Did he say what he wanted?”
“No, just that he needed to special order something for a ‘picky couple.’” Jamie stood up straighter. “Do you want his number or something?”
Austin tried to remember that the Creator had endowed everyone with different gifts and that Jamie’s gifts were not for management. “Yeah, that would be swell. Thanks, buddy.”
Jamie beamed and walked away. He came back with the phone number. “I’ll head back out, boss man.”
“Thanks, Jamie.” Austin squinted at the scrap of paper and tried to puzzle out the chicken scratch Jamie had left for him. After a moment, he gave up. He’d try combinations of numbers that looked sort of right, and eventually
he’d probably get it right.
Sometimes he really wondered if it was worth keeping Jamie around.
After he’d gotten a funeral home and a bodega on Syracuse’s south side, he finally got through to someplace that sounded right. “Blue Bells Weddings, this is Kristi. How can I direct your call?” The voice was low and almost seductive if a little bit nasal.
Austin settled in and remembered that he was a business owner. He didn’t have time to sulk about the incomprehensibility of alphas. “Hi there,” he said, painting a big smile onto his face. “My name’s Austin Baines and I’m calling from Skaneateles Vine and Rind. I’m returning a phone call from, and forgive me if I get it a little wrong—the message got a little garbled here—a Mr. Cody Howell?”
Kristi laughed. “Are you from Texas? You sound like you’re from Texas.”
Austin rolled his eyes, secure in the knowledge that Kristi couldn’t see him. “Yes ma’am, born and raised in Austin. It’s a beautiful place to be, but Skaneateles is just fine too.”
“God, I could listen to you talk all day. Anyway, hold on, let me go find Cody, I’ll let him know you’re on the line.” Hold music took over for Kristi’s voice. It was some certifiably sappy love song, taken from a tragic blockbuster film. He thought it might be the one with the iceberg, but he couldn’t be sure. Austin didn’t do love songs.
It only took thirty seconds for Kristi to scare up the Cody fellow from wherever he might have been. “This is Cody.” Cody’s voice was clipped, efficient, and deep. His accent wasn’t local either. Austin had been in town long enough to know that much. He sounded more downstate; maybe Manhattan?
Maybe it was the way that Kristi had decided to poke at his long buried past. Maybe Austin was just feeling contrary. He was like that sometimes; he could acknowledge that about himself. Either way, he loosened the reins on his Texan drawl and let it fly. “Well, hi there, Cody. This is Austin Baines from Skaneateles Vine and Rind. I got a message that you called about a client with delicate tastes?”
Cody huffed a little. Austin couldn’t tell if he sounded annoyed or not. “Ah, yeah. You could say that. The groom likes to think of himself as a wine snob. The caterer tells me that you’re able to get some unique, high-quality wines on a budget. You know, stuff that will make my clients look trend-setting instead of cheap.”
Austin liked the sound of Cody’s voice. It was nice and deep, but it had a warmth to it that belied that clipped Manhattan “time-is-money” tone. “Well, sure, Cody. I can get my hands on a lot of things, but for how much and on how short of notice depends on you. Are you going to be able to come out to the shop? We can chat about what you want and then we’ll see what we can do for you.”
Cody paused. He didn’t want to come out to meet. Austin could figure that much out just from that little pause. Austin didn’t blame him. He probably had a lot going on. After all, he was a busy guy. He wouldn’t have thought that a wedding planner would have all that much to do so close to the holidays, but the tension in Cody’s voice corrected him.
Then Cody sighed. “You know what? I can come out there this afternoon, I got a new florist to meet with out there anyway since my usual contractor went and got claimed on me. Can I come by at three?”
Huh. Cody was willing to work with omegas. Wasn’t that an interesting note? “You bet. I’ll make sure I’ve got coverage.”
“See you then.” Cody’s tone was purely professional as he hung up.
Austin couldn’t quite identify why that bothered him. He’d never seen the guy. For all he knew, Cody was straight. Far be it for Austin to stereotype a guy by his profession, after all. He thought that maybe it was the coldness of it all that was setting him off. Sure, Texas had its problems. He’d moved away, after all, and he didn’t regret it for even half a second. At the same time, he’d been taught to be easy and friendly unless he had a reason not to be. He expected the same from the people around him, and something about Cody’s brusque manner just annoyed him.
Before he could deal with Cody Howell, of course, he had to take care of the day-to-day grind of his business. Jamie was okay for minding the registers, and sometimes for stocking shelves if nothing new needed to be done. He had a great rapport with both new and existing customers, which was fabulous. But he was useless when it came to management tasks, like inventory and ordering from the distributors.
Skaneateles Vine and Rind wasn’t just a storefront, either. Austin made plenty of money with the storefront, sure. He liked hosting the weekly wine tastings and wine and cheese parties a couple of times per month. He liked dealing with the customers. The real meat of Skaneateles Vine and Rind’s business, though, was the warehouse.
Austin supplied wine to a number of caterers, restaurants and small venues all around Central New York. He’d built up a strong, solid reputation as a go-to-guy for hard-to-find wines and unusual varietals, and that was his real bread and butter. Sure, customers could run in for a California Cab on their way to a party if they wanted to. If they had the time to browse, though, they might find something they liked even more.
Shipments of wine had arrived from South Africa, Lebanon, California, and Austria that day. Austin needed to get those processed into inventory and check that against sales so he could place his orders. A few winemakers had sent him bottles of wines they wanted him to feature, and he needed to separate those out and bring them home to assess. He had invitations from vineyards in Crete and Virginia to come out and see what new and exciting things they were doing, and he needed to see how he could work his schedule to make that happen without losing too much money. It wasn’t like he could leave the store open while he did that. Jamie was good to mind the shop for a few hours, or even a day, but not for a week or more. The trip to Crete was probably off the table. He might be able to swing Virginia, though.
Austin sorted out the labor, organizing it into tasks that could be done by either him or Jamie even if either of them got deeply involved with a wine tasting. Then he considered his stock. He had a few showcase wines, but he didn’t think that Cody’s clients would be looking for wines that everyone had heard of. He needed wine that delivered the same impact for a lower price.
He finally pulled some South African wines off the shelf. He’d been on a kick with South African wines lately anyway; he couldn’t quite explain it, he just liked them. He had a few Spanish wines to offer and a couple of local wines that he thought might surprise Manhattan Boy. Without knowing what was on the couple’s menu, he couldn’t do much better.
By the time he was done, he only had half an hour before Cody was supposed to get there. He made the rounds of the showroom floor and chatted with a couple of customers before snagging a couple of rolls and a hunk of Brie. That was a good enough lunch for him, he supposed.
He moved into the tasting room when he was done. He set up the wines to breathe, and he prepped water goblets and spit buckets.
Cody was ten minutes late for their appointment. Austin knew him as soon as he walked in. He was taller than average, although he wasn’t as tall as Austin. He had wavy, golden-blond hair and wide gray eyes that gave his face a perpetually surprised expression. He dressed like he’d looked up “business casual” on a website and gone with what he’d found there, but he held his head high and carried himself like he owned the place.
Hell, in his head Cody Howell probably did own the place. Alphas were like that, and there was no inch of Cody Howell that wasn’t an alpha. If his posture hadn’t screamed it when he walked in the door, his campfire scent was a giant flashing warning sign.
Austin tried not to groan and pasted a smile onto his face. “Hi there. I’m Austin. Welcome to Skaneateles Vine and Rind.”
***
Cody didn’t mind weddings as a general rule. He didn’t lose his head over visions of tulle and lace, but that was what made him a good wedding planner. Cody approached wedding planning the same way he approached any other project. He developed a project plan. He worked with his clients to refi
ne his project plan—maybe the client didn’t like camellias, or maybe groom had a personal phobia about line dancing. Either way, he worked to his plan, he didn’t get emotional about it, and at the end of the day everyone got what they wanted.
That methodology had stood him in good stead as a corporate consultant in New York, and it had worked well for him over three long years as a wedding planner up here in Syracuse. While there were sometimes little hitches and dramatic episodes, for the most part no one wanted drama at their wedding. They wanted things to go well. The occasional bride—or, more often, bride or groom’s mother—might want the attention that came with blowing a minor issue into a crisis, but that was part of his job. He held their hands, he paid attention to them, and no one remembered the incident by the last dance at the reception.
None of his experience could have prepared him for the Sutherland wedding.
The bride and her family were fantastic. They were laid back, normal people who just wanted there to be a wedding at the end of the day. Cody couldn’t figure out for the life of him what Amelia Kasun was doing with a pretentious little snot-ladle like Brock Sutherland. He guessed it wasn’t for him to say. After all, he got paid even if they split up six months after the rings exchanged hands. Still, there couldn’t have been two people with more incompatible personalities on the face of the planet.
Brock fancied himself to be a wine snob. That was how his bride described him. “He thinks he’s a wine snob.” Cody had much less kind things to say about it after sitting down with him. Brock hadn’t liked any of the wine selections that the caterer had to offer when going through the available options. He’d turned up his nose and declared them all to be too “common.” He couldn’t have people think he was drinking the same swill as everyone else, after all. The wedding was in four weeks, the caterer was threatening to pull out if Cody couldn’t pull a rabbit out of a hat, Brock was pouting in whatever antisocial hole employed him, and poor Amelia had big fat tears running down her tan face.
