My Smalltown C.E.O. Scrooge: A Festive Romantic Comedy
Page 7
“Oh,” I say.
The ground is blanketed in at least three feet of fluffy white snow, and fat flakes are still floating down from the grey sky. It looks beautiful, but when you grow up in a small town in upstate New York you learn to let go of your love of snow as soon as you’re done with school. It gets in the way, and the local officials are seldom of a mind to get it out of the way.
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” says Sadie. “Well anyway, I guess I’m in all day so no rush to get here. Assuming you can. It looks like it’s still coming down pretty heavy.”
“Sorry about Grace’s appointment,” I tell her. “Will you be able to reschedule?”
“Yeah, it sucks,” she says. “But I’m sure we’ll manage.”
“Good. Are the girls all right?”
“They’re fine,” Sadie says. “They’re all getting their snowsuits on so we can go make snow angels and snowmen. Listen.”
I assume she holds the phone away from her ear and toward the kids because I can hear them all chattering and squabbling as they get themselves snow-ready. They sound so excited and happy, and I feel a pang of remorse that I’m not there to join in the fun.
“Your brother’s in the garage trying to dig out the sleigh,” Sadie goes on when the phone is back beside her ear. “Everything’s good here. Don’t worry, okay?”
I smile to myself. No-one is better at reassurance than Sadie.
“Okay,” I say.
“How is Fluface McSickpants?”
“You know he has a name, right?” I ask.
“Yeah. But that’s no fun.”
“He’s alhink,” I laugh. “I haven’t seen him today yet.”
“So he’s not... beside you, then?” she asks, and I can hear her grinning.
“Bye Sadie,” I reply, trying to make my voice sound like I’m rolling my eyes.
“I just meant that maybe you shared a bed, like a sleepover.”
"Oh, of course you did."
“Sam said he’s hot.”
“Your brother thinks anyone from out of town is hot,” I laugh.
“Fair point,” she says. “Oh, Eddie’s got the sleigh. Love you.”
“Love you,” I say. “And thanks again!”
“No proble—”
She always hangs up mid-word.
Looking back out of the window, I push up onto the tips of my toes to try and see if Old Green Road is passable, but everything is so stark white it’s hard to tell the roads from the hedges. I decide to head upstairs and see if one of the higher windows has a better vantage point. I grab my little washup bag so I can brush my teeth and freshen up along the way.
I head into the first room at the top of the stairs, a spare bedroom at the front of the house. I suppose they’re all spare rooms except for Greyson’s, and even that isn’t really in use. When I was in there yesterday to change the bedding, I noticed that he’s still living out of his luggage, despite the huge wardrobes and chests dotted around the room. I’ve been studiously ignoring the pang of sadness I felt at the reminder that his stay here in Sunrise Valley is temporary.
When I get to the window, I have to squint to see Old Green Road at all. It’s not looking good. There are no tire tracks, and if you didn’t already know it was there, you might not even notice the dip in the snow where the road meets the snow-covered hedges. And it’s still coming down.
With my brow furrowed and a thousand sudden worries running through my mind—most of them about the girls—I head for the bathroom. It’s not that I don’t trust Sadie, because I do—completely. But if they end up having to stay over there again tonight, the likelihood that the snow will have cleared by tomorrow is slim-to-none. It’ll be the first time they’ve spent more than one night away from me since their mother passed, and even though I know they’re in good hands it still feels like a big deal.
I enter the huge bathroom, drop my toiletries bag down on the countertop beside the door, and let out a deep sigh as I rub my eyes, willing all the worries out of my mind. It doesn’t work. So I sigh again, open my little bag, pull out my toothbrush, and look up into the mirror to brush my teeth.
“HOLY SHIT!” I scream. A shadowy figure is looming over my shoulder in the fogged-up mirror. Instinctively, without a second thought, I spin around on my heels and raise my arms to defend myself.
Greyson is standing there, butt-naked, both hands over his package, staring at me with wide, alarmed eyes.
“OH MY GOD!”
My hand comes up immediately to cover my eyes, but not before I notice that his shoulders really are much broader than I originally thought, and his body is somehow every bit as honed and toned as I imagined it would be. Maybe even a little bit more.
“WHY ARE YOU NAKED?!?” It comes out like an accusation, but in my defense, five seconds ago I was expecting to have to fend off a home invader with a toothbrush.
“I’m in the bathroom!” he replies, his tone just as accusatory as mine.
“OKAY, THAT’S a... fair... point.” I trail off as I realize that he does, indeed, have some pretty strong arguments on his side of this situation.
“Nice pajamas, by the way,” he says, making me glance down.
My shorts are short and covered in blue hearts, and I’ve paired them with a too-big, cozy fleece top.
“Shut up,” I say, secretly pleased that he’s looking.
“I bet you say that to all your employers.”
I feel the smile crack on my face, and back up toward the door.
“I’ll just…” I slap my spare hand around on top of the counter until I find my wash bag, then bump up against the door. “I’ll just come back later.”
I scrunch my eyes tightly closed and fumble around behind me, trying to find the door handle.
“Bye, then,” he says, and I can hear a smile thickening his voice.
“Bye!” I call, my voice a little manic as my hand finally closes around the handle of the door and I pull it open to make my escape.
When I’m halfway down the stairs, I hear Greyson burst out laughing in the bathroom, and it echoes all through the house.
Chapter 10
Greyson
The look on Allie’s face when she walked into the bathroom and caught me in the buff will stay with me for the rest of my life, I’m sure of it. Even though I know she can hear me, it’s a good five minutes before I can stop myself laughing.
When I eventually look back at the mirror to finish washing up, the wide grin on my face takes me by surprise. It’s so alien to me. I’ve spent so long keeping my head down, focusing on work, keeping everyone at arm’s length, and avoiding entanglements, that I haven’t given myself a reason to laugh in a long, long time. But Allie… she makes me laugh every time I see her.
I finish up, get dressed, and head downstairs to the kitchen. I’m feeling about halfway better today. My fever has broken, my nose has cleared just a bit, and I sound way worse than I did yesterday. “You sound awful—you must be feeling better,” my mother used to say when I was a kid.
The house is toasty warm and Allie is in the kitchen, making a coffee. I’ve noticed that she drinks almost as much coffee as me, and her brews are just as strong. Little wonder where she gets her energy.
She’s wearing a bright red sweater and a pair of blue jeans, and her feet are bare on the kitchen rug. There’s something about having her barefoot in my house that makes my inner caveman roar.
“Hey,” she says, glancing at me. Her cheeks immediately flush and she turns away to pour two mugs.
“Hey,” I croak, perching on one of the high stools.
“Oh, you sound worse,” she says. “Are you feeling better?”
Wise woman.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Listen, I’m sorry about earlier. I should have knocked.”
She turns around and places a mug down on the island, then pushes it across to me. I dip my head a little, staring at her until she’s forced to look up and meet my eye.
“Me, too,” she nods. And then I get to watch her adorable face turn the same color as her sweater as she realizes what she just said.
“I… I mean,” she stutters. “I’m glad you’re feeling better did you see it snowed?”
The way she rushes on with no discernible pause makes me smirk. I lift my mug and take a sip to hide it, and nod.
“There’s no way I’ll get home today if the snow keeps coming down. The council never bothers to clear it before it’s almost melted away of its own accord.”
Her flush begins to fade as her brow draws down with concern. She looks out the nearby window, where the snow is indeed still falling.
“Are the girls all right?”
“They’re fine,” she says, nodding. “Sadie has them. I called earlier and they were all heading out to make snowmen.”
“Sounds like they’ll have a blast.”
“Yeah,” she agrees, giving me a gentle smile. Her shoulders seem to drop slightly—with relief, I think—and I get more satisfaction out of making her feel just a little bit better than I ever have out of making a big business deal.
“Weren’t you supposed to fly home later?” she asks.
“Shit!”
She’s probably right. It slipped my mind in the craziness of the past few days, but it’s almost Thanksgiving and I’m pretty sure today is the day that Ben scheduled my flight back to New York. I pull out my phone to check my reminders and, sure enough, there it is. A 6 pm United flight from Plattsburgh to LaGuardia.
“Shit,” I repeat, looking back to the window. “Any idea how long it’s supposed to last?”
Allie gives a little shrug.
“It’s supposed to stop snowing tonight, but if it’s cold enough the snow will freeze hard. Might take a full day of sunshine to clear.”
I grunt with irritation and start tapping out an email. Ben is a mastermind at this sort of thing. He’ll fix it.
“Did you sleep all right?” I ask, shoving my phone back in my pocket.
“Like a rock,” Allie says. “I normally have little feet digging me in the ribs all night. Not that I’d change it.”
I smile. I want to ask her how she came to be the sole guardian of the two little girls who call her Mommy, but it seems like that would be prying too much.
“So,” she says. “Since I’m stuck here for the day, I’m going to sand the paneling in the back bedroom. And you should concentrate on getting better so you can catch your flight when the snow clears and have a good Thanksgiving with your family.”
“Yes, boss,” I say, giving her a salute.
She blushes again, and the urge to pull her over the counter and into my lap is almost irresistible. Even in my weakened state, I think I could muster the strength. I’m actually considering it when my phone starts ringing.
I pop it on the counter and hit the speaker button.
“Hey, Ben.”
“Hey, Boss,” he says, and I can tell instantly that it’s not good news.
“Hit me.”
“All flights are booked up until the day after Thanksgiving. I checked every airport on both sides. You could drive it, but it’s six hours without the snow, and from what you said you can’t get out of the town anyway.”
“Shit,” I say. I glance up and Allie is frowning at me.
“I’ll keep trying. Sorry, Boss.”
“Not your fault,” I tell him. “Do me a favor and let Ethan know. I’m supposed to be with him and Emily for Thanksgiving.”
“Will do. Oh, you have an email about the LPF contract,” he says. “They’re making some noise. If you get a chance.”
“All right. Thanks, Ben.”
“No worries, G. Get some rest, you sound like shit.”
I hear Allie snort a laugh from across the room.
“Thank you, soon-to-be-former assistant.”
“You’d be dead in three days without me,” he shoots back. He’s not wrong.
“Well, let’s not put that to the test while I’m stuck in four feet of snow in the middle of nowhere. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Later,” he says, and hangs up.
I let out a deep sigh and rub my temples, then turn apologetically to Allie.
“Sorry, I need to check something for work. I’ll only be a minute.”
Allie waves her hand at me. “Sure, go ahead! If it takes longer than that, I’ve got sanding to do anyway.” She grins at me.
I flick through my phone and bring up the LPF email that Ben mentioned. LPF stands for Lincoln Peterson Finance, and Lincoln Peterson is the exact type of asshole you’d expect of someone who’s one step above a loan shark. He is also, however, the exact type of narcissist that is very keen to maintain his brand image. This means he is willing to pay us large sums of money to make him look good. It also means that he is an absolute nightmare to work with.
He’s demanding a meeting with me personally. I can see in the email that Ethan has offered to meet him, but Peterson is having none of it. Despite the fact that Ethan and I co-own the business and have exactly the same amount of clout, Peterson’s ego won’t let him deal with anyone but the CEO.
I sigh out loud as I close the email and put my phone away, and Allie looks at me with visible concern.
“Everything all right?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Awkward client. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
“You know,” she says, then hesitates a little before continuing. “The girls and I are going over to Eddie’s house—that’s my brother, Sadie’s husband—for Thanksgiving. Sam will come over for dinner, too. Sam from the diner? He’s Sadie’s brother. And his boyfriend will be there. I’m sure it would be no trouble to set a place for one more. You know, if you’re stuck.”
I’m not sure whether I’m surprised more by her generosity or by the fact that literally everyone I’ve met in the town seems to be going to the same place for Thanksgiving. It’s nice, in a way.
“I…” My turn to hesitate.
Do I want to spend Thanksgiving with Allie and her entire clan, eating turkey ‘til I look like I swallowed a beach ball?
Hell yes, I do.
And that’s the problem. Because the more time I spend with her, the more I feel my resolve weakening. The more I start wondering if I could make it work this time, and the more I forget why I’m so careful never to get too close to anyone.
But here she is, in front of me, looking up at me expectantly—maybe even a little hopefully. What chance do I have against that?
“That’s really kind of you,” I say after a pause. “If I’m stuck here, I might take you up on it.”
She smiles, and I realize she’s happy about my answer. Maybe my sullen-teenager act the other day didn’t bother her that much after all. Maybe, maybe, maybe… I’m letting myself think that word far too often these past few weeks.
“Oh, hey,” she says, “If and when I do get out of here, I won’t be back until after Thanksgiving. You were supposed to be out of town, and I always help Bet to prepare a load of food in the diner before Thanksgiving. She puts out a free meal on the day and invites all the older folks along.”
“That’s… really generous of her,” I say. It’s starting to seem like an uncommonly common trait in this little town.
“Yeah, it’s nice. A lot of them are widows and widowers and their kids moved away years ago. It gives them somewhere to go and have some company.”
I don’t say anything for a moment. I’m struggling with the idea of being widowed, and I realize it’s because for the first time in a very long time I’ve been imagining being with someone properly. Being with Allie. Maybe forever.
I’m also struck by the fact that I can’t remember the last time I did something like that—something generous, something that makes the world a little better, just for its own sake. Allie seems to do
nothing else.
“I’ll help,” I say, before I even realize I’ve made the decision.
She looks up at me with her brows lifted, surprise and delight clear on her face.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “If I’m stuck here, I might as well, right?”
Now I’m actually looking forward to helping Allie peel carrots in the diner. What is wrong with me?
“Okay,” she grins, nodding. “I’ll let Bet know. Thanks!”
She almost skips out of the room, leaving me sitting there in a warm glow to finish my luke-warm coffee.
The house is a sturdy old build. For the last few hours, I’ve been laying on the couch, resting, streaming some shows I’ve never heard of, and listening to the quiet hum of the sander from upstairs.
I never chill like this back home; I’m always too busy. I am admittedly still not feeling great, though. The fatigue is pretty debilitating and my bones ache when I move. But I still feel guilty for sitting here doing nothing while Allie is upstairs working.
I push myself up from the couch with a groan and head into the kitchen, intent on making Allie a coffee. But as I pass by the chair in the hallway, distracted by a thud from upstairs, I accidentally knock her bag off the seat and send its contents scattering across the floor.
“Shit!”
I bend down and start cleaning up the mess. Mostly, they’re things you’d expect the mother of two girls to be carrying; baby wipes, a purse, a lollipop, lip balm. There’s also a dinosaur card game, which brings a smile to my face.
But then, as I get down on all fours to make sure I’ve got everything, I notice a stack of papers lying just behind the chair. They must have skitted under it after falling out of the bag. As I pick them up, I realize they’re drawings. And they’re enchanting.
The first one is a sketch of two little girls, standing beside a car as a woman with a mop of curly hair tries to yank open a car door. There’s a speech bubble coming from the woman that says “Shit!”, another from the littlest girl, that also says “Shit!”, and another from the bigger girl that says “That’s a bad word!”