Page 11 of Sleighing You
Chapter 5
Chris
Mayor?What the hell was the mayor doing here? Just then, I caught my reflection in the mirror, still wearing the hideous sweater, and winced.
Dammit. Not exactly the first impression I aimed to make in forging a business relationship with the town. Granted, my hope was to be in and out without sticking around to become golf buddies once the snow melted, but just friendly enough to get him to approve the expansion ideas and get the proper permits in place.
I put on my best grin and turned to face the mayor—an older man with white hair and an impressively nice suit. And that said something for this town. If I’d had to guess before meeting this guy, I would have said most people in Maple Grove bought their suits at JC Penny. But not the mayor… I knew that suit. It was from a collection at Brooks Brothers. Well-made. Classy. Expensive.
“Mr. Mayor,” I said, offering my hand. “It’s so nice to meet you finally. I’m Chris Pohle. My family owns the StoryBook franchise.”
He eyed my hand briefly before taking it in his and giving a firm shake. “You’re Jack’s son, are you?”
“You know my father?”
“He’s owned a store in my town for years… of course I know your father.”
This was where my father far outshined me. He was good at this sort of glad-handing. I swear, my father could make friends with just about anyone, anywhere.
“I also know your mother, and I’ve met your sister a handful of times at Christmas Fest. You, however, I’ve never seen here before.”
Did it just get hotter in here?I glanced over at Avery and caught the smug grin on her face. Guess it was a little optimistic to think I’d get any help from her. Just like always, my dad, mom, and sister were the company heroes, and I was the city slicker hard ass no one liked. Forget the fact that I single-handedly worked the accounts and books to keep us from going bankrupt six years ago… nope, no one seemed to remember or care that I was the reason they all still had their careers. For them to take me seriously, I had to don a Santa hat and hold hands around a Christmas tree, singing Jingle Bells.
Well, screw that. I was good at my job and I shouldn’t have to sing damn carols in order to prove it.
Hell, maybe I am the Grinch. I caught a glance of my green sweater in the mirror and sighed. “Yes, sir,” I answered. “I’m usually behind the scenes with my nose in the books. As you can see, I’ve been aptly dressed today.” I gestured at the sweater.
A small smile tilted his mouth. “Okay then. I guess you havetwocontestants for your store today, Avery.”
“I-I, um…” she stuttered.
“If Chris is the owner of this store, then he’s taking part tonight, is he not?”
The Mayor blinked, glancing back and forth between Avery and me. Normally, I would have fought that suggestion. You couldn’t have dragged me kicking and screaming to a bar (that was more than likely the only bar here in Maple Grove) dressed in this hideous sweater. But the look on Avery’s face was so horrified, so utterly distraught at the suggestion, I knew I had to be there. If for no other reason than to burrow under her skin.
“I am,” I said with a fake cheer.
“Well, I think what Mr. Pohle means to say is he’s happy to be judged, but he won’t be joining tonight for the ceremony.”
“Oh no,” Mayor Dyker said. “We have to disqualify the shop for this year, then. It says in the fine print, ‘all participating parties must be present to accept the award.’ And now that I know he’s here in town and wearing what I can only hope is his ugly sweater… I have to include him in the ballot.”
“It’s no problem, Avery.” I gently reached out and placed my hand on Avery’s shoulder. I was so much larger than her that my fingers draped over her delicate arm. “Consider this my contribution today since I wasn’t able to make that sale for you earlier.”
I could practically see her seething. Her skin flushed a gorgeous rosy pink—and not just on her cheeks. That red blush flared down her neck and past her collarbone where her skin eventually disappeared beneath the ugly bell sweater she wore and left me curious what the rest of her body would look like with that flush.
Mayor Dyker clapped his hands together and made a note on his clipboard. “Great! Now, each of you stand right there and let me judge your sweaters.”
He stepped back, circling us in a way that made me wonder if Tim Gunn was going to pop out at any moment.
“I thought events like this weren’t your thing?” she muttered through clenched jaw and gritted teeth.
“They’re not. But messing withyouis.”
I didn’t stick around muchafter Mayor Dyker made us twirl in our ugly sweaters for him. I was happy to bow out once he left. I had, after all, been up since before the sun. Granted, I guess so was Avery, thanks to me.
And I couldn’t even change out of the godforsaken sweater because apparentlycontestants had to wear them all day—as Avery reminded me as I tried to shrug out of it.
Surely that meant only while we were out and about. I slid into my driver’s seat of my car and as soon as my door was shut, I tore that sweater off and tossed it into the passenger seat. Since I was going straight home for a couple hours before I was due back at Nick’s Pizza, no one would know whether I sat in my own home and did work in that thing.
