Page 4 of Whiskey Kisses For the Mountain Man
"Are you always this bossy?" I ask finally.
"Are you always this grumpy?" she counters.
Against my will, the corner of my mouth twitches. "Yes."
She laughs again, and this time, there's a warmth to it that slides under my skin. "Well, at least you're honest. I can work with honest."
I step back, putting space between us. This woman is dangerous, not because she's the ‘Christmas Queen’, but because, for a brief moment, I almost forgot why I hate this time of year.
"Come on," I mutter. "I'll show you the bottling line."
As she follows me across the floor, chattering about social media opportunities and brand visibility, I realize I'm in trouble.
Three weeks until the tree lighting.
Three weeks of working closely with a woman who embodies everything I've spent decades avoiding.
Three weeks of pretending the sight of her in that red sweater doesn't make me want things I have no right to want.
Three weeks of Christmas fucking cheer.
I'm going to need a lot more whiskey.
CHAPTER TWO
LETTIE
The ride-share service I’m super thankful I discovered Eden Ridge has when I moved here two weeks ago, follows my request to drop me off for a much-needed treat before I head back to my new office.
“Thank you,” I smile as the driver leaves me in front of The Roasted Pine cafe. “Have a merry day.”
I hand him an extra cash tip with a candy cane and hop out. The quaint, mountain coffee shop instantly warms me as the aroma of sweet, deep, roasted beans wafts through the surrounding street.
I nod approval at their well-decorated festive touches outside and inside the store. The bell dings, Christmas music filters lightly through their speakers, and red "for here" mugs dot tables with mini faux poinsettia arrangements, creating stunning centerpieces.
This is what I adore and looked forward to most about moving to a small town. At the counter, I order their Gingerbread Cookie Latte.
“I saw you here yesterday morning, right?” the cute barista with glasses and a pale blonde pixie cut asks.
“I was,” I smile. “Lettie Donovan, pleasure to meet you,” I present my hand.
The young woman laughs softly, taking my offered hand and shaking. “Kendall. Welcome to Eden Ridge. Visiting?”
She steps aside to prepare my drink at the espresso machine, keeping her body angled toward me as she listens. Another point for small-town living. The city is about bustling and moving you along for the next customer.
“I actually just moved here. Working atRebel Pine Eventsfor Nora Graves.”
“Well, welcome to Eden Ridge.” Her eyes pan down my outfit and accessories. “You’ll definitely fit in with our town’s hype around Christmas.”
“Thank you,” I say, inserting cash into her tip jar. “As Eden Ridge’s Christmas Festival coordinator, I’m glad I look the part.”
“No way,” Kendall smiles. “That’s awesome. My partner loves the Festival every year. She’s obsessed with the stalls that sell fresh cinnamon pecans, the ones they freshly roast.”
“What are your thoughts on Tree Lighting ceremonies?” I ask, opening my phone’s notes section.
“Never been to one. Seen them on TV,” she says, before pausing with the red sprinkles.
She doesn’t even need to ask. “Absolutely,” I nod, smiling wide. “You never even have to ask. Give me the full festive treatment.”
