Page 5 of Sleighing You
“Sounds like he’s going to choose aloser.”
She spun in her chair and pointed at the bakery owner. “Which reminds me… Lex! Where’s your sweater?”
He put a finger up and reached below the counter, pulling out an apron with knitted sleeves sewn on. He slipped his arms through and tied it around his waist.
Yep, it was hideous. A giant Santa face with something three-dimensional creating the beard. “Tada,” he sang and did a little twirl for her. “Olivia picked it out at the store and glued marshmallows onto the beard. Then my mother-in-law knitted the sleeves onto the apron so that that it would technically qualify as a sweater.”
Avery clapped her hands. “Wow, you may actually have me beat! Then again, I didn’t have a two-year-old to help me glue marshmallows onto my sweater!”
Ah, he had a toddler. That almost made his participation make sense. “Creative,” I said, lifting my coffee cup to toast him from afar.
“What about you?” Avery asked, turning her attention back to me.
“Whataboutme?”
“It’s an ugly sweater contest forallMaple Grove business owners. You’re a business owner. You need a sweater.”
“Technically,you’renot a business owner in Maple Grove.”
Again, that confident smile faltered. Why did I do that? I had nothing against this Avery girl. I didn’t know her all that well—just what I’d heard about her from my dad and the fact that her store’s success was single handedly convincing him not to branch out into cities.
“See?” he would say. “If Avery can make our stores profitable in a town with a population below five thousand people, we don’t need the high rents of a city!”
“That’s true. But since I’m usually the face of the company here in Maple Grove, I act accordingly. I treat it like it’s my store, even if it isn’t. But, for the record, I own shares of your dad’s company… so technically Iaman owner. I just own a tiny piece of it.”
“Touché.”
“But, don’t you worry,” she continued. “I have the perfect sweater for you.”
Fifteen minutes later,we were back in the store and I was standing in front of a tinsel framed mirror staring at the hooded green Grinch sweater she had shoved into my hands and told me to put on.
“Well?” she called from the other side of the changing room.
I debated lying… telling her it was too small to wear. But I was a little worried that she had a stockpile of these sweaters in various sizes. And then I’d be stuck wearing a hideous sweater that was way too large for me.
I sighed, shoved the curtain open and found her waiting on the other side, grinning. “Aw, it’s perfect.”
I snorted. “We haveverydifferent definitions of perfection, then.”
“Oh, come on. It’s the kick-off day to Christmas Fest! The ugly sweater contest is an age-old tradition here in Maple Grove!”
When she reached out and brushed her hand across my forearm, I wasn’t ready for the spark of electricity as her palm connected with my sleeve. The molecules between us buzzed to life, and she must have felt it, too, because she immediately jerked her hand away, cradling it to her breast.
“So,” she said, clearing her throat and tucking her hair behind her ear. “What was so important here in the store that it couldn’t wait until normal operating hours?”
In truth… nothing that I needed her for. But I couldn’t exactly say that to her face. Not after I barged in and woke her up at this god-awful early hour.
“Well,” I walked past her, glancing at the various aisles of the Christmas store. “I wanted to take inventory and have a look around before customers started coming in.”
“Okay…” she said carefully. “And that couldn’t have waited?”
She got me there. It obviously could have. “Again… I’m really sorry about earlier. I had no idea you lived here. It won’t happen again.” Yeah, my assistant and I were definitely going to be having a talk about that mishap. Me walking in unannounced to an employee’s apartment—even if it was a store we owned—was grounds for a lawsuit. One we’d probably lose.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that. Kringle, too. Don’t let those bright eyes fool you… he loves his beauty sleep.”
I glanced down at the dog who was trotting around my feet, eager for any attention I was willing to give him. He was adorable with big chocolate brown eyes and golden, soft fur. I missed having a dog. We’d had a family dog growing up, but my apartment in Boston didn’t allow pets—and then Helena was allergic. Or so she claimed. And after we broke up, I had gotten a taste of independence, and I guess I’d figured that adopting a dog would force me to change my lifestyle too much.
Maybe it was time to change that.
