Page 5 of Mishaps and Mistletoe

“Sir, let us comp your coffee. And miss, your bill is also on us. We’re so sorry,” the manager said as a staff member freed her ankles from the garland’s unrelenting clutches. And not a moment too soon. If she’d moved any closer to this man, their lips would have touched. At the thought, a tiny whimper escaped her mouth.

“Sorry, ma’am. Did I hurt your foot?” the worker asked from below.

“No, no. I’m fine.” She stepped back and winced at the sight of coffee dripping down the handsome man’s vest. “I’m so, so sorry.” Her chin dipped to her chest. “Let me pay you to have this cleaned… or replaced.” She dug through her massive purse for her wallet when his large hand stopped her. The touch melted her wrist like a marshmallow at a campfire, heat rising from the point of contact all the way up her arm. Her insides liquified. She was ready to be a s’more.

“The vest is supposedly waterproof, so I’m sure it can handle a sprinkle of coffee.” If the mini flood at their feet was any sign, his vest had sustained more than a sprinkle. “It’s really no biggie, okay?” The gentle tone of his voice did little to erase the red blotches she knew were all over her neck by this point, and his gentle smile only made her feel worse about the mess she’d made. Why couldn’t she have dumped her coffee all over someone evil?

She stepped back, her heels crunching on the ice at her feet. At least it had been a cold beverage. “I’m really sorry,” she breathed out. The lumberjack’s rounded eyes charted her every step as she inched toward the door. “I’ve gotta go.”

“What about your coffee?” He pointed to her refill on the counter.

She didn’t need the boost caffeine provided her anymore. She was running on adrenaline now. Running on embarrassment.

Running right out the door.

ChapterTwo

If Kevin couldn’t even figure out how to use a printing machine, did he really deserve this new job?

No, he was done thinking like that. He totally deserved this job, even if the red flashing light on the machine felt like it was sayingyou don’t belong here, you don’t belong herewith each blink. After years of settling for little freelance photography jobs here and there, enough to pay the bills but not enough to fill his artistic cup, he worked up the courage to apply to a few advertising firms. Kevin never dreamed any would reach out to him, let alone that he’d have his choice of employers.

He took a sip of his coffee and tried to focus on his work, but his mind immediately went to the woman from Mountain Brew. Every feature he remembered about her played on a loop in his brain. Her pure, porcelain skin with cheekbones as soft as the pink inside a rose. The loose waves of auburn hair that fell between her chin and shoulders. Her tall, thin body that trembled slightly as he held her.Why did she look familiar?

“There’s no way,” he whispered, trying to convince himself he was imagining things. He’d just moved here from Florida not even two weeks ago. Everyone in town was a stranger to him, the gorgeous redhead included. But still—nope. He’d stayed up too late unpacking, and now his brain was playing tricks on him. And, frankly, it had other things it needed to focus on, like his first day at his new job. And the printer that still wasn’t doing the one thing it was supposed to.

“Nothing like a blank canvas, right?” A large hand patted Kevin’s shoulder from behind.

“Mr. Stevenson, good morning.” The printer beeped to life, spitting out several copies of a document he’d tried to print… two hours ago. “I was just sitting here, brainstorming.” Not a lie. He was brainstorming about a pretty coffeehouse patron he’d scared away and a printer that made promises it couldn’t deliver for a few hours—totally normal things to be thinking about on a first day at a new firm.

“Come with me. We still have a few more items of business to discuss that I didn’t get to when that call interrupted us.”

“Sure thing.” Kevin rose from his desk and followed the man. A good seven inches shorter than Kevin, Mr. Stevenson took about two-and-a-half steps to each one of his. Kevin slowed his pace as a courtesy.

They walked into the office, and Mr. Stevenson shut the door.

“So, let’s see,” his boss began, propping his hands on his ample belly. He made up for the lack of hair on his head with a bushy mustache that wiggled with each word he spoke. “I think we were about to discuss your first assignment.”

“Yes, sir.” Kevin watched him take a pull of his coffee, and an accompanying slurp filled the office.

“We think you’ll do us proud with the Oglebay account, son.” He waved his arms out in front of him, nearly knocking over the mug. What was it with people spilling their beverages around Kevin lately? “It’s our biggest, but from what I’ve seen of your previous work, I trust you can handle it. It’s honestly why I hired you.”

A smile split Kevin’s face in two. Truthfully, the Oglebay account was the reason he’d taken the job in the first place. The chance to live in a small town for the first time in his life, while getting to photograph one of the most picturesque resorts in the country, was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. It was one of the most beautiful places he’d seen, and its four seasons of entertainment made it a resort with year-round appeal. Which meant it would give Kevin a chance to show his artistic chops, instead of taking stock photos and other tedious assignments that had eaten up most of his time. “This is great! Thank you. I’d actually heard about the resort when I was a teen, and I remember how fondly the person spoke of it.” She’d spoken very highly about so many areas in West Virginia, it was something Kevin still remembered all these years later. He didn’t know that many people who had that much pride in the state they were from.

“Is that so? Well, I thought you’d be excited. Now, Greg will be you copy guy and do all the verbiage for you. You’re solely graphics, design, photographs, layout, and things like that. I know we’ve talked about words not being your—”

“That’s correct, sir.” Kevin cleared his throat. No sense in rehashing something they’d already discussed. Besides, it was yet another reason he’d decided to work here. Most smaller firms preferred the photographers write their own copy. But Mr. Stevenson was so impressed with his photographs, that wasn’t necessary.

“Great. One last item of business—we have a no fraternization clause here at Stevenson Advertising.”

Kevin thought about the coworkers he’d met on his introductory walkthrough this morning. Eighty percent of them were men, and the other twenty percent were women old enough to be his mother—and Glenna, the receptionist, couldalmostbe his grandmother. “Not a problem.”

“This also includes anyone who works at any of the businesses we have contracts with.” He shook his head, mumbling something unintelligible to himself before he continued. “You see, we had an incident recently. Someone here dated an employee at one of our contracted businesses. Things went sour, and at the pitch presentation, she subjected those of us in attendance to a slideshow of…nudies.”

Kevin choked. On what—he wasn’t sure. But Mr. Stevenson continued, apparently oblivious to the awkwardness that blanketed the office like a blizzard.

“Nudies—you know. Isn’t that what you kids call naked selfies these days?”

At thirty-eight, it’d been a long time since anyone had lumped Kevin in with “you kids,” but for the sake of putting an end to this painfully uncomfortable conversation, he simply said, “Sure.”

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