The Trouble with Mistletoe. Jennifer Snow
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The familiar scent of his musky cologne made her pulse race. She suddenly remembered the nights she’d fallen asleep in his T-shirt, when he’d been away at college, enveloped by that smell. “Tomorrow, then.” She opened the door and stepped out into the frigid air. “I’ll come by in the morning,” she said through the icy burst of wind and snow. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a silver monogrammed cardholder. She popped it open with a manicured fingernail and slid one of her cards free, handing it to Luke.
“Your card?”
“It has my cell number on it.” Her teeth chattered. The sun had almost disappeared and the temperature drop in the last half hour was significant.
“Victoria, this is Brookhollow.” He laughed. “I could stand in the center and call out to you, and wherever you are, you’d hear me.”
The rich, deep sound of his laughter wasn’t at all the boyish laugh she remembered.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Her cheeks flushed and she looked away. “Anyway, let’s not test that theory. Use the cell number.” But he was right; the card was unnecessary. If he needed to find her, it wouldn’t be hard. She shivered again, wishing she’d packed a warmer coat. The pretty white cashmere did nothing for warmth.
Her cell rang in her purse and, tugging off a glove, she dug around in the side compartment until she found it. The office number flashed on the screen. Shoot. In her stress over returning to town, she’d forgotten to check in. “Hello?” she answered, turning away from Luke.
“Victoria, it’s…” Static scrambled the receptionist’s voice.
“Kim…Kim, you’re breaking up.” She moved a few feet down the street. “Can you hear me?”
“Victoria?”
“Yes, I’m here. Can you hear me?” Silence. Victoria held her phone up in the air, shook it then brought it back to her ear. “Kim?”
Call failed.
Small-town reception.
She sighed and turned back to Luke who seemed to be hiding a laugh behind his hand.
“What’s so funny?” She glared at him. She’d love to know exactly what aspect of this turn of events he found so entertaining. She glanced at her phone again. By now she suspected her would be full, as well.
Luke cleared his throat and shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, looking down the street. “Hey, check out your rental.”
She turned and gasped. A large amount of snow had fallen in the short time she’d been in the store.
“I have a snow scraper in my truck. Give me a second, and I’ll grab it.”
Victoria grabbed his arm to stop him.
His gaze fell to her glove on his sleeve, and she pulled her hand away. “No, that’s okay. I have one in the car.” She hoped. Rule number one in an acquisition: Don’t indebt yourself to the seller. She began to walk away, her toes icicles in her two-inch-heel boots.
Luke shrugged, checking his watch. “Suit yourself,” he said as he disappeared around the side of the building.
Victoria’s temple throbbed a she stood frozen in place, watching him walk away. This would be the hardest acquisition and opponent she’d ever gone up against.
Luke raked a hand through his thick, snow-covered hair as he made his way carefully on the slick sidewalk to his truck. Despite the below-freezing temperature, sweat pooled on the back of his shirt beneath his coat. Victoria Mason. He’d known she was coming. Had been expecting her, but certainly hadn’t been prepared for the sight of her. Even more beautiful than the photos he’d seen posted on her Facebook page.
She obviously still knew the happenings in the small town she’d abandoned two weeks before their wedding. Enough to know the store was in a transition, during which time it could be vulnerable. He’d never thought she’d be capable of something like this, though. The big city certainly changed people. The girl he remembered may have had a wild side and a stubborn streak, but she’d been kindhearted and well-meaning. The Victoria he fell in love with would never have considered pulling something like this.
She’d always been interested in the betterment of the community…and of him. If it wasn’t for her belief in him, he might never have considered applying to college after having struggled with academics throughout high school. The support and encouragement she’d always offered him made it impossible for him to stay angry with her now. But he didn’t understand how she could be back here to buy out his store.
How could she forget the contributions that Legend’s made to local organizations each year? Without the sponsorship programs provided by the store, the junior hockey team—the Brookhollow Blades—wouldn’t have the funding to compete against bigger-city teams. He wished she’d tried to pull this a year ago when Mr. Jameson had been in charge. Now Luke was forced to deal with his ex-fiancée himself. He prayed he was up for the challenge.
The store’s role in his own involvement with sports from a young age was the reason he’d agreed to buy it when Mr. Jameson had asked him about it a month before he’d passed away. Claiming Luke was the closest thing to family he had, because of the bond they’d formed while working in the store and their shared passion for sports, he’d sold him Legend’s for next to nothing. Luke hadn’t the heart to refuse. He just hoped the business generated some profit in the New Year, otherwise the overhead would cut into his capital.
Climbing into his truck, he turned the key in the ignition. The old engine resisted. “Come on…” he said, closing his eyes and trying again. The engine sputtered to life. If it lasted the winter, he’d consider himself lucky. He hated the idea of parting with the old beast. Good memories were tied to this truck—Victoria close to him as he drove, her hand tucked in his.
After all this time, he’d hoped he wouldn’t have reacted to her as he had. He barely thought of her anymore. Okay, that was a lie. He thought of her more often than he cared to admit. Thought of her smile, her laugh, her soft skin…how she’d left him, and how he’d been crazy to just let her go. Frowning, he turned the truck onto the quiet street. He’d been angry and hurt for a long time, but the emotions had turned to a dull longing. He’d fought every urge to contact her, despite the attempts of social media to reconnect them through mutual friends. He always found a reason to be out of town when there was a chance she might be coming in—Rachel Harper’s wedding three years ago…her grandmother’s funeral two years before that… Now here she was and there would be no avoiding her.
She would be gone before the week was over, but only if he gave her what she came for.
CHAPTER TWO
“Since when is Luke Dawson interested in owning an old sporting goods store?” Victoria asked her mother an hour later.
Sheila Mason bent to look through the glass of the oven door. Her light blond hair, streaked with gray, was tied in a loose ponytail at the base of her neck and fell over one shoulder. The rich aroma of her chicken-and-mushroom casserole filled the kitchen. “I don’t know, dear.” The timer on the