Page 1 of My Secret Snowflake
Chapter one
Iris
IfeellikeaSanta Claus who’s eaten too many cookies and is now stuck in a chimney, unable to shimmy up or down. So much for my bright idea that I could easily step on a carton and climb through this open window that’s about five feet off the ground. I cling to the windowsill, not quite able to hoist myself all the way over, but I’m far enough off the ground that dropping back down could hurt. My stomach is on the sill, and my hands and elbows are holding me on, the wooden ledge biting intoeverything—splinters are a definite possibility. The box I stepped on to get a leg up is now a crumpled heap below me.
“Are you okay, Iris?” Jazmine asks from below me. “Ow. Ugh. There are so many prickly bushes here. Amelia, you should definitely stay on the path.”
“I can see your key card on your desk, Amelia,” I say.
Amelia, Head of Human Resources at Dream Company where we all work, is outside on a beautifully gardened gravel path, but her key card is in her hotel room. To save Amelia the 100-euro penalty for needing assistance after eleven p.m., I came up with the brilliant idea that I could climb in through her open ground-floor window, retrieve her key, and let her in. It must have been all the “let’s-think-out-of-the-box” exercises we’ve been doing on this company retreat in Provence with our new parent company, L’Etoile S.A.R.L.
“I probably should have just called the porter,” Amelia says. “But then he’ll think I’m an idiotic American. And what if he tells L’Etoile? And then L’Etoile thinks I’m an idiot?”
I’m the idiot. What if our L’Etoile colleagues see me hanging here?Oh no. I kick my legs. But I’m swimming in air, not water.C’mon, nonexistent arm muscles. Pull. This is your time to shine.
“Can you push me some more?” I bite out.
“I’m trying,” Jazmine huffs.
As some cool air brushes over the backs of my thighs, I wince. I have the uneasy feeling that all Jazmine did was push up my skirt. My arms are definitely weakening.
“I think I’m going to fall,” I gasp.
“Can I help?” It’s a man’s voice.
Oh, no. Is my underwear showing? It can’t be showing, right?
“Yes, please!”Hold. On.
“Sebastian, great timing,” Jazmine says.
Sebastian? The new guy in Legal?
Should I shimmy and try to get my skirt back down?I bite my lip and hold on tighter. If I shimmy, I’ll look like I’m doing some weird move to the windowsill. Or like I’m a worm.
Some twigs crack behind me as I presume Jazmine and Sebastian switch positions. I don’t dare look around.Please, let my underwear not be showing.
“Okay if I put my hands on your hips?” Sebastian asks. His voice is a deep timbre behind me, and it’s as if my handswantto loosen their grip on this windowsill and slip into the warmth of his arms. The smell of Ivory soap mixes with the night breeze.
“Yes, yes,” I say.I can’t hold on much longer. Especially when my body seems to have the completely wrong idea about this situation.
And suddenly two hands grip my hips, and my stomach is over the windowsill. Along the rest of me.Crash! Ouch!Idon’tcatch myself in time. I’m on the floor.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
No. I want to disappear between these wood boards.
“Yes,” I say, adding a cheery lilt to my voice as if I’m totally fine and my knees are not all scraped up—and I adore looking like an inelegant mess in front of a very attractive guy.
I stand and pull down my skirt. It’s dark, somaybemy underwear wasn’t visible? But at least Sebastian is an American colleague. Because my underwear would definitely not impress our French hosts.
I am so mortified. I can feel my cheeks flush.
I turn on the desk light and grab the key. I flash a thumbs-up out the window at the three shadowy figures standing outside, only the face of the man illuminated by the lamp. Amelia and Jazmine have retreated to the pathway, out of reach of the bushes.
“I’m Sebastian,” the man says as he steps forward. “I’m not sure we’ve met formally before.”
As if all the women at Dream Company in New York City didn’t immediately sigh in appreciation when he joined a month ago. Even I couldn’t help noticing him and I’d sworn off dating.
