Christmas Clash (17 page)

The front door's jingle startled her.

“Hello?” A gruff voice called out. “Are ya open?”

She raised her voice toward the front door, “Yeah, back here.”

Halle quickly stood, forgetting she held a glass of wine. The blush liquid sloshed over the side and onto her hand.

“Shoot.” She checked the sleeve of her white V-neck.
Whew. Close one.
She looked up and caught a penetrating stare from the man who'd just entered her store.

“Hazards of drinking on the job?” A slow grin spread across his stubbled face.

“Quality control.” She shrugged, adding a wink and a coy smile. “Someone's gotta check the merchandise.”

Halle's gaze wandered over the stranger in the dim Christmas tree lighting. His broad build filled out his tan North Face jacket. She didn't have to look down to know he was in jeans and cowboy boots.
Why, hello. Merry Christmas to me.
Halle set down her wine glass and felt heat start at her toes and rise to her throat. She wasn't sure if the sensation moving through her was the wine or her body talking.

“What are you in need of today?” She reached for a rag beneath the counter and hastily wiped her hand before resting her gaze back on the cowboy. His deep, brown eyes matched his wavy, brown hair. Thick eyelashes intensified his dreamy stare.
Those are eyes I bet no woman gets tired of.
Halle mused at the giddiness that tingled her midsection.

“I need to find a present for my sister. I know she likes this place. Are you sure you're open?” He looked at the ceiling. “Are your lights working?”

“They are now, but . . .” She shook her head before laughing in attempt to deflect the situation. “Check back next week.”

The man's brows rose in a query.

Halle moved around the counter and flipped on the light switch by the front door. “Seemed like a twinkle light kinda afternoon.” She straightened her sweater against her jeans. She couldn't seem to stop grinning.
Don't act like you're in high school, Halle. This guy's a customer. Even if he does smell good. Like the forest.
She'd never been a fan of evergreen, but this cowboy made it heavenly.

“So, you need a gift for your sister?”

He turned and looked around the store. Halle took the opportunity to check him out.
About my age . . . no ring. Why haven't I ever met him before? This town isn't that big.
Halle bit the side of her bottom lip. Her “consequences-be-damned-there-is-fun-to-be-had” streak was pulsing through her body, and this cowboy made her feel like being naughty.
Here I thought the holiday season was going to be boring.

The stranger peered over the rack of spices and miscellaneous cooking items. “I didn't realize you had a bunch of different stuff in here.”

“Sure do—something for everyone. What does she like?”

“Blue.” He looked up. “She loves blue.”

“Blue . . . okay. I have some blue necklaces I made over here.” She motioned to the glass cases that doubled as her front counter. “I also have a matching scarf and hat set in ocean blue.” She scooped up the items and held them toward him.

“Oh, those are nice. You make this stuff?”

“Some of it—mostly the necklaces.” She caught his gaze and lowered her voice in mischief. “Sometimes, when I'm feeling really sexy, I crochet.”

“That's weird. So do I.” His lips started to curve up until the chirping sound of his cell phone suddenly cut it short. He retrieved it from his front jean pocket.

“Excuse me.” He turned his back to her and spoke quietly into the phone. All she could hear was mumbling.

Halle laid the crocheted set on the counter and spied her wine glass.
Where does drinking during a transaction stand on the appropriate meter? Hell, I own the joint.
The words of her father sounded off in her head causing an eye roll. She owned the business, not the physical store, as he'd so astutely pointed out in what had started as a civilized meeting last week.

She moved to retrieve her glass when she heard a low “sonuva—”

“What?” Halle stopped in her tracks just out of reach of her glass.

She wracked her brain for what the problem could be. Maybe she'd had one too many glasses of wine. No, wait; she did a mental count. She'd only been on glass number two when whoever this was walked in and made her spill half of her new glass.

“No. Not you.” He pocketed his phone and looked at her. “Family issues.”

“Family, huh? They'll getcha.”
Yeah, that was clearly the best thing to say. Oh well, he's nice to look at.
She let her gaze wander down his nicely fitted jeans to his cowboy boots, and back up. After all, it was the holidays; everyone deserved a little happiness, right? Even her.

• • •

Blake Ellison continued to watch the woman.
Can't I have a moment of peace? I can't even Christmas shop without . . . This gal has the right idea, drinking in the afternoon. That's my kind of day.
He wished it was just because of the holidays, but lately his life was complicated with unfair obligations that made him want to drink—a lot . . . a whole lot.

Blake assessed the friendly sales gal. Her blonde hair was tied back in a messy ponytail that was weirdly sensual. Her fresh face was a welcome relief from the overly made up women he usually encountered.

“I'm Blake by the way.” He offered his hand.

“Halle, nice to meet you.” She slipped her hand in his firmly.
Strong. Good.
Limp fish handshakes were the worst.

“You don't happen to have another glass or bottle of beer hiding back there, do ya?” He raised an eyebrow again.

Halle laughed and her green eyes danced. He grinned, getting swept up in the moment.

“Tsk, tsk.” She crinkled her nose. “Isn't it a little early?”

“Well, you made it look so fun.” He cocked his head toward the counter where she'd spilled what smelled like a Zinfandel.

“You, my new friend, are in luck. I happen to have a glass and, better yet, a new bottle.”

She knelt down to fish under the counter and Blake leaned over to check out the view his higher perch now afforded him.
Sexy.
Halle popped back up and his startled eyes found hers. She fetched a decorated glass off the shelf and waggled it in her hand.

“Convenient.” He nodded toward the spot she'd just made vacant.

“Perk of being the owner.” She winked and headed to the back of her store.

Blake wasn't sure what do to, but he followed because she had wine.
She owns this place? Huh.
He couldn't keep his eyes from roaming.
Nice ass.

Halle motioned to a couple of high backed, brightly patterned green and pink chairs. A sitting area had been set up in the middle of the store, complete with an end table between the chairs and a rug. They sat and she poured.

“Cheers.”

They clinked glasses.

“So, Blake, what drives you to drink in the middle of the day?” Halle crossed her legs and shifted to look at him.

Too long to explain, Halle.
He took a long swig and swirled the remaining liquid. Where did he start to explain his grandpa's recent death, and how his dad was using it to railroad him to stay in the banking business to someone he'd known for all of five minutes. Or should he start with how he wanted to run his family's ranch and not let his dad sell it? Better yet, he could lead with all the questions about his dating life that increased around Christmas and the set ups that inevitably followed. It was the worst time of year to be single.

“Does there have to be a reason?” he asked.

“Nope. But, then I think that crosses the line from fun to you have a problem.”

He didn't look, but he knew she was smiling as she razzed him.

“My reason . . . hmm . . . pressure.” He thought about another pull but decided to pace himself.
I wish this was beer.

He surveyed the store to continue avoiding her, pretending interest in the candle display, the clothes, the Western knickknacks, and the contemporary furniture. Blake's defenses were down and he didn't feel like building a mental wall right now. He just wanted to sit in the middle of the small, eclectic shop and drink.
There's probably something wrong with this, but . . . eh, I don't care.

“Wow. No wonder you need a drink. Those
pressures
.”

He watched as she playfully rolled her eyes in sarcasm. She was pretty—not the strikingly beautiful kind, but the solidly attractive type; the type that made him want to reach out and fold her into his arms. She looked soft and touchable. He could use a hug.
Man, one call from Sis and I'm needing a hug. Shit.
He drank.

“Okay then, why were
you
drinking?” He didn't want to talk about himself. Learning more about Halle was more pleasing. “This normal for you? I'm sure we can get you into a good twelve-step program.”

“I was
thinking
.” She bobbed her head his way.

“In the dark with wine?”

“Surrounded by Christmas lights,” she raised her finger and circled it in the air, “
not
in the dark.” Halle drank. She let out a sigh before she continued. “Truth be told, I was denied something I need. And, I'm not in love with the options I'm left to consider.”

“Denied? Right.” He jeered.
Who would deny her?

“Yeah. I need a business loan and the bank said no.”

“Oh for a
loan
.”
Pay attention, man.

She scoffed, “What did you think I meant?”

“Um, nothing.” He cleared his throat. “So this bank. Which one?”

“North Platte River Bank.”

What?
Blake shifted in his seat, squaring up with her the best he could in a chair that was not made for a tall man.
Good thing I didn't tell her my last name.

“I see,” was all he managed to reply.

His mind started buzzing as a thought crossed it. What he needed to survive the holidays was to buy some time to figure out a way to keep the ranch in the family—and a distraction. Questions about Halle would preempt any about business. Halle wouldn't look bad on his arm . . . maybe.

“What was the loan for?” he asked.

Halle fidgeted and peered at him over her wine glass. “I want to buy my own building. This place is great, off Main Street and everything, but the rent is
killing
me. I'd like to be independent. I thought I had it all figured out . . .” Her voice trailed off and so did her gaze.

“You don't think a new location would hurt business?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “I started Just Dandy five years ago. I have a following.” She leaned her head back. “I have a newsletter, website, and who wouldn't want to attend a moving party, then a grand opening party?” She took another swig. “Party.” She raised her glass in the air.

Blake laughed and shook his head. He understood. Give people food and booze and they were happy.
She's business minded and cute. My family would totally eat this up. But, will she go for it?

“Maybe we could help each other out.” He finished his wine, set the glass down on the end table, and leaned forward.

“What?”

“My pressures?” Blake turned his head toward her, finding her still leaned back in her chair. “Well, for starters, I need a date to accompany me to all of these bloody holiday gatherings, family parties, and other political nonsense I'm required to attend.”

“Okay.” She squinted at him. “And I get . . .”

He shrugged his shoulders. “A loan.”

“What?” Her face lit up.

Blake searched her eyes. Over the years he'd learned to listen to his instincts. His stomach didn't drop or twist, which was always the sign of something bad—no, instead he felt something else. Intrigue? Happiness, maybe?

“I can make sure you get a business loan. Whatever amount you need.”

Blake internally cringed at the part of this conversation that was inevitable. He hated telling people his last name and watching them put it all together, always treating him differently afterward, making it hard to tell who his real friends were.

• • •

Halle sat straight up.
Who the hell is he?
She quickly did a mental recap but was still coming up blank as to who this Blake fellow was. She didn't recognize him from anywhere. She'd grown up in Casper but moved in her late teens when the relationship between her parents had deteriorated. Living with her mom had been a hard decision, being the only child, but it had been the right one. After college she had decided to move back to Casper to start fresh with her dad. That only lasted for a couple of years. Right up until he wanted to wipe out a protected wildlife habitat for a new mall. That was the line in the sand for both of them.

“How could
you
get me a loan?” She heard the sarcasm in her voice but didn't care.

He was still looking at her, hard. It was starting to make her uncomfortable in a hot and bothered kind of way.

He broke contact, stared at his cowboy boots, rubbing the back of his neck. “Trust me, I can make it happen.”

“Yeah, okay, cowboy. I'll just
trust you
.” Halle finished off her glass of wine.
I'm drinking with a crazy person. Go figure.
She stood and started for the front of the store so he'd get the hint it was time for him to leave.

She heard a long sigh behind her.

“I'm Blake Ellison.”

She froze between the rhinestone purses and flashy belts.
Ellison.
She whirled around and faced him. Blake sat back in his chair, folding one long leg over the other, ankle to knee.

“
You're
an Ellison?” She furrowed her brows at him. “And
you
can't find a date?”

“No, I can find a date. That's not what I want, though.” He reached for the wine bottle and filled both glasses to the top.