Page 8 of A Cozy Kind of Christmas
On paper, it sounded like a spectacular weekend if it weren’t for the fact that they weren’t exactly on speaking terms. Lucinda had arranged for a tour of the best that the high desert had tooffer—a welcome holiday bonfire, beer tasting at Matt’s favorite brewery, a snowshoe tour, a forest formal Saturday party, and a Sunday brunch to cap off three days of adventure.
Lucinda had designed the weekend like she was staging a holiday rom-com, minus the drama—hopefully.
But the thought of Matt with another woman made her stomach twist.
Still, she had a story to write and a job to do. She was a professional, and even though she wasn’t sure her heart was in ESPN long-term, she needed a steady paycheck.
And if she learned anything in the last few years, it was this: Some stories required more than research. They required showing up.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she opened the email and clicked RSVP.
You’ve confronted your demons on the page, Meg, she reminded herself.Now it’s time to do it in person.
FIVE
JOHANNA
Johanna’s gaze drifted around the conference room, landing on each member of her team in turn, as a form of greeting and a way to signal the meeting was about to start, with one glaring exception—Connor Howard. He was hamming it up with the other anchors, showing them memes on his phone while keeping one steely eye on Johanna. He wore his typical uniform—a black suit jacket, a freshly pressed, baby blue button-up shirt, a navy blue tie, and sweatpants.
Classic.
“If I could get your attention, everyone.” She stood at the helm of the long table like a captain steering their ship and cleared her throat. The table was littered with holiday treats—donuts with red and green sprinkles, snowball cupcakes with fluffy buttercream frosting, candy, cheese platters, fruits, and nuts—all from the never-ending rotation of advertiser gifts that rolled in this time of year.
“Hello, people, let’s get to it.” She clapped twice to silence the room. Had anyone else noticed she was wearing the same dress as yesterday? Thankfully, she didn’t think so. Not the ESPN bros. They were too wrapped up in themselves and runningnumbers and stats like they were attempting to break nuclear codes. They’d never paid attention to personal details.
But Meg hadn’t missed a beat when Johanna bumped into her on the way to her interview earlier. “Hey, girl, hey, I recognize that dress,” Meg had said, giving her a playful bump on the hip. “Hot date last night?”
Johanna’s cheeks had burned with heat.
She’d smoothed down her dress and plastered on her most professional smile. “Blazing hot. But I have to run. My interview is in ten minutes. Wish me luck.” She darted off before Meg could ask for more details. She hated lying to her friend. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Meg. If anything, Meg would have understood. No, it was much worse than that. She couldn’t admit something as low as hooking up with Connor. The thought of saying it out loud and hearing how small it sounded made her shudder.
And it wasn’t just a hookup. And not just once. Their late-night trysts had become a habit—a dangerous, addictive, potentially career-ending habit she needed to break—now.
A last-minute assignment with Meg in the remote corners of Oregon sounded absolutely ideal right now.
She couldn’t shake how distracted she’d been during the interview. She’d stumbled over her talking points and sounded flustered with each question. Her mind kept drifting to the night before, the feel of Connor’s lips on her skin when she should have been rattling off stats and budget numbers.
That was on her. She never should have dropped by his place. She should have studied her notes, rehearsed every possible answer, and polished her pitch like the consummate professional she was.
Instead she’d walked into the interview underprepared and full of regret.
The meeting now fell into a buzzy silence. Johanna drank in a long breath and took charge—doling out assignments and sharing budget reports and viewership numbers as the team devoured donuts and pungent cheese like locusts.
But Connor.
Connor Howard did his best to distract her. Every time her gaze even flickered in his direction, he would run his tongue seductively along his mouth and sweep his dark hair off his forehead like a surfer coming out of ice-cold blue water who had all the time in the world to wreck her concentration.
Damnit, Connor.
Focus,she told herself. Focus, or you’ll lose everything you’ve worked so hard for.
Was he trying to get them both fired?
Johanna clutched the edge of the conference table to steady herself. She wasn’t going to fall for his charms. He was a certified playboy, and if she didn’t put an end to this for good, he was going to ruin her meticulous and longstanding career aspirations and her friendships.
But if he smiled at her like that again…she wasn’t sure if she would leap across the table and slap him straight across his smug face or—or kiss those soft, supple lips into blissful oblivion.
God, Johanna.
