Page 2 of Snow Harm, No Foul

“Rude. He’s kind of like the Scrooge.”

I can’t hold in my laugh. “I can handle rude. But isn’t it a little redundant to be a Scrooge when you’re hosting a Christmas event?”

“It brings in a lot of traffic,” she says flippantly.

“Money talks, I guess.”

“In this economy? You know it does.”

Folding my arms beneath my chest, I tap a beat on my bicep. “I’m not above sucking up if it means my job will be easier. Even Scrooge has a weakness. Do you know his?”

“Most likely the hearts of virgins,” she deadpans.

Dry humour with a bit of darkness is my favourite. Maybe that’s why I get along so well with Jill.

“I’m out of the question, then. Know anyone who fits the bill? Any willing sacrifices?”

She laughs so hard she snorts and goes beet red. I grin and add, “What about chocolate? Or booze? Does he seem like a whiskey or tequila guy?”

“He seems more like the moonshine type,” she answers, stifling her laughter.

“Moonshine . . . alright. I’ll see what I can do.”

She winks. “Wrap it in a bow, too. Maybe that will soften him up.”

“Think he’d wear a knitted sweater?”

“Like the one you have on? Don’t tell me you made that!”

Diving toward me, Jill pinches the thick material of my sweater and rolls it between her fingers. Her deep brown eyes glow with interest.

I let her poke and prod at my work. “Yes. I’ve been knitting since I was a teenager.”

“Really? What all do you do? Surely, not just sweaters.”

“I’ll do anything. I used to sell slippers and blankets at the farmer’s market in the summer before I moved here.”

“You have to do the Christmas market this year! It’s inside the hockey rink on December twenty-third.”

Interest zips up my spine. “I’d love to.”

“Here, let me give you my aunt’s number. She’s the organizer, so if you really do want a table, she’ll make sure you get one,” Jill rambles, leaning back out of my space to grab my pen and start writing on my notepad. “It would be a great way to get your name moving around town. It’s never easy being the new person, especially in a small place like Snowbell.”

Snowbell Ridge wasn’t my dream place to live, but when my relationship with my ex crashed and burned, I moved back in with my parents for five months and learned that I couldn’t doit any longer. Nowhere close to Oak Point was hiring, so I had to expand my search.

I found the listing for the job I have now and, two weeks later, was moving into a cute little rental on the outskirts of Snowbell Ridge. It’s a couple of hours’ drive west of my hometown and is more than enough distance between my past life and the one I’m building now from the ground up.

“I know what it’s like trying to find a place for yourself in a small town. Oak Point makes Snowbell look Calgary-sized. It’s not even really a town because there aren’t enough people there,” I say.

“Where is Oak Point? I don’t think I’ve actually heard of it before.”

“It’s south of Calgary, about a forty-minute drive from the Rocky Mountains. Close enough to Cherry Peak that I’d take drives up there just for a change of scenery.”

“So, it’s prettier than here?” she jokes.

I smile slightly. “It is. The mountains are the best thing about it.”

“Well, I hope you don’t hate flat land too much. I’d like if you stayed here for a while.”

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