His Christmas Sweetheart. Cathy Mcdavid
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“What brings you by?”
“Sam sent me. You have some vouchers for him.”
She frowned in confusion. “What vouchers?”
“For the contest winners.”
“Don’t know what he’s talking about.”
“I’ll call him.” Will reached into his jacket pocket for his cell phone and dialed Sam. His boss didn’t pick up. “Must be a mistake.”
“Try again in a few minutes. In the meantime, have a beer.”
“How ’bout a water?” He wasn’t in the mood for drinking.
Finding his regular stool open, he sat and attempted to reach Sam again, with the same results. Disconnecting, he debated what to do.
“You look as if you are wrestling with a mighty problem.”
At the sound of Miranda’s voice, he sat instantly straighter.
“We know it’s not Mrs. Litey, unless you’re feeling bad about ignoring her. She misses you something awful, by the way.”
Will suffered a stab of remorse.
“You shouldn’t make her pay just because you’re mad at me.”
Having no choice, he turned slowly around. “I’m not mad at you.”
“Seems like it.” She stood with a serving tray propped on her hip, a red apron tied around her waist and a pert scowl on her pretty face.
He blinked in disbelief. “You’re working here?”
“Part-time.” She squared her shoulders. “Just until I catch up on the mortgage payments. So I guess we’ll be running into each other, seeing as you’re here a lot.”
He suppressed a groan. His one place of practically guaranteed solitude had just been invaded.
It was in that moment that he realized there were no vouchers and never had been. His boss knew about Miranda’s job and had set Will up.
The snake.
“Well, what’ll it be, cowboy? Can’t rent that bar stool for free.” Miranda flashed him a saucy smile that sent his pulse rate into the triple digits. “Swiss-and-bacon burger’s on special today.”
She moved closer—on purpose, he was sure of it—until her thigh brushed his knee. He swallowed hard and waited for the panic attack, ready to bolt at the first sign.
To his shock, it didn’t come. And when he spoke, his voice sounded normal.
“I’ll take mine medium well.”
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