Holiday Sparks (3 page)

“Are you crazy?” Kelly tugged her into a chair. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“I can’t believe they’re doing this for Thanksgiving weekend. Are they out of their minds? It’s going to be chaos in here.” Darcy gathered her hair away from her face with the hair tie she always had on her wrist. Putting her hair up before six a.m.? It was not going to be a good day.

“I know,” Kelly sighed.

“Deep breath,” she muttered and stood. “And now I’m off to deal with Grabby Gary.”

Kelly dragged her in for a hug and patted her back. “Stab him with your box cutters.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she said with a laugh. She swiped her badge to log in for the day and hit the floor. Darcy was responsible for the front end and the jewelry department officially, but at Blackstone’s titles meant less than their words. She’d worked every department in the twelve years that she’d been with store. And gearing up for Black Friday meant all hands on deck. The only good thing was that it would go by quickly.

She waved to the cleaning crew who were buffing the floors as she headed for the front end. The store didn’t officially open until eight and there was plenty to do before then. She opened the cash box door with her badge. A brunette of indeterminate age sat at the long metal desk, candy-apple-red kitten glasses balanced on the tip of her nose. A half-dozen cash drawers were stacked and ready for the cashiers. “Morning, Mo.”

“Hiya, sweet cheeks. How goes it?” Her fingers never paused over the calculator keys and the rubber tipped thumb on her other hand flipped through receipts.

“Another day of eternal bliss.”

Mo snapped her gum with a grin. “I don’t think your definition of bliss and mine are the same. Mine? Daniel Craig kidnapping me for a secret assignment.”

Darcy shook her head. “Your bliss definitely wins.”

She took her mini-tablet from the slot and signed it out, then looked over the schedule loaded. One thing she did like about working for the Blackstones was the toys. Miriam had upgraded them from walkie-talkies to a network of handheld computers. She smiled at Mo on her way out the door.

“Remember, Daniel Craig doesn’t have security clearance for back here.”

“Spoilsport.”

Darcy laughed and tapped through the various screens, noting that there were no callouts so far, but the day was still young. Her feet knew the store by heart, so she continued to look through the day’s schedule while she walked.

“There’s my gorgeous Darcy. How you doin’, kid?”

Darcy’s easy smile tightened. “Morning, Gary.” Shock and dread roiled in her stomach, her smile long gone. “What did you do with all the decorations I had on the tree?” She’d worked for an hour to get them back on.

“Miriam took them down before I got in. She said it looks too much like a Hallmark card. Which, if you ask me, is the point of a department store tree, but what do I know?”

“I couldn’t agree more.” And that was a first.

He moved closer, his arm brushing hers. Hugo Boss cologne assaulted her nostrils and made her eyes burn. Did he bathe in it?

“She wants us to put these up instead.” He toed an open case of lights. “I don’t understand them myself, but what do I know, you know?”

Obviously not much—you know? She took a step to the side and away from his aura of cologne. “These?” She flipped the top box and groaned. A listing of typical songs made her want to weep. She unearthed the end of the string and plugged them in.

Instead of the real songs, a horrible electronic facsimile of
Come, All Ye Faithful
filled the air. It sounded like a sample from a Casio piano that her mother had given her one Christmas. She’d lose her mind if she had to listen to that for the next month.

Gary leaned into her. “See, they play tunes. Pretty cool.”

Darcy leaned away and set the lights down. She ignored the hovering Gary and looked up at the fifteen-foot spruce that they’d had delivered the week before. It still had a root ball that would be planted along the side of the store in the spring. Very green and very PR of her boss. The heavy ceramic pot was hidden by a huge red skirt with a fluffy white cuff.

It was lovely. Truly. And as much as she hated Christmas, she didn’t want those tacky lights ruining her store.

All she could think of was her neighbor and his ingenious, if annoying, display. Now that would make a statement. She looked at her watch, then at the tree again. “I’ll be right back.” She headed to the back of the store where Miriam’s office was and knocked.

“Come!”

She squelched the need to roll her eyes. Imperial decree, how comforting. “Ms. Blackstone, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment?”

Miriam looked at the slim gold watch on her wrist. “I have a few minutes.”

“I was thinking about the tree. The lights you chose aren’t exactly Blackstone material, if you ask me.”

Her eyebrows rose as she sat back and steepled her fingers. “Oh, really?”

With an inward wince, Darcy kept going. “No, I think that once you saw them on the tree and heard the unfortunate songs, you’d feel the same. I was wondering if I could check in with a…friend of mine. He might be able to help us out.” Now that she was actually in Miriam’s office Darcy wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but she forged ahead. It was too late to back down now. “He’s done a neighborhood display that’s quite impressive.”

Miriam tapped her lips with her scarlet-tipped nail. “How impressive?”

“My homeowners’ association is fairly taken with him and he loves Christmas.” Darcy’s voice strengthened. Surely she’d be able to get Ben Hartley to help her. If she begged. And allowed him to keep his display up on her house—if a little more…tempered. She tucked a strand that had escaped her ponytail around her ear. “Since we have an abundance of managers on right now I could go back to my house and be back within forty minutes.” She’d probably wake him up. “At most an hour.”

Miriam nodded. “You were here late last night, I think that would be fine. I appreciate all you did to salvage the tree. What is this person’s name?”

“Ben Hartley.”

Miriam slid her tablet in front of her and typed quickly. “Make sure all the receipts go to Maureen in the cashier’s box. Normally I’d make sure to hold you to a budget, but this has to be handled as expediently as possible. Within reason, Ms. Tucker. I trust you.”

It took all the power she had in her to not to let her mouth drop open. Did the Black Widow just tell her that she’d done a good job? “I appreciate that.”

“Well, don’t just stand there.”

Ahh, there she was. Darcy resisted the impulse to snap a salute and turned on her heel. She checked her watch. It was barely seven thirty. She was tempting fate with this scheme, but there was no way she’d be able to pull off a Blackstone-worthy display on her own. Maybe she could take half the rent off as a Christmas present. Her bank account could handle a one-month hit.

She sent a quick message to Gary’s unit to leave the display alone and to cover for her per the boss’s decree. She lengthened her stride and gathered her things, stashing her tablet in her locker before signing out. Now she just had to figure out a way to convince Ben Hartley to be her Christmas savior.

Chapter Two

Ben pulled the pillow over his head, trying desperately to ignore the incessant buzz of his alarm. He flung his hand out but it wasn’t his alarm. He squinted at the clock. “That better be 7:50 p.m.,” he muttered.

The shrill ring of his doorbell finally scraped at his consciousness. “Fucking fuck.” Whoever was leaning on it as though it was their job was going to pay. He’d been up sketching until after three. And it was his goddamn day off. He fumbled out of bed and nearly walked down the stairs before he remembered that he slept in the raw.

That was one way to get rid of whoever was at the door.

He tugged on a pair of workout shorts and a shirt before shuffling down the stairs. When the blasted bell went off again he growled his way to the door and swung it open. “What the hell do you— Oh, for God’s sake, I promised I’d take down the lights today, not at eight in the fucking morning.”

His landlord winced and twisted her fingers together. “Actually,” she pointed to the note on the door, “I left that this morning before I left for work. And now I have an even bigger problem.”

A jaw-popping yawn was his first answer. “Look, Miss Tucker—”

“Darcy.”

“Darcy.” He decided he liked the way it felt on his tongue. And that was dangerous. He should have stayed in goddamn bed. His landlady’s teeth chattered as she held the collar of her coat up under her chin. Sunny yellow hair whipped around her face. In the searing light of day, her pretty eyes were even more captivating. And that little tidbit was a sure sign that he needed coffee. Now. “Do you want to come in?”

She was going to saw her damn bottom lip off before she answered, so he reached out and took her arm, dragging her inside. “It’s freezing.”

“Didn’t you get the email that it’s winter?”

Ben looked down at himself and then back at her. “I was sleeping. You’re lucky I have this on.”

Those evergreen eyes widened and a bit of his grumpiness slipped away. Maybe she wanted a better look at him. “I know, and I hate to bother you, truly. Truly,” she repeated. “I know we kind of got off on the wrong foot yesterday.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Actually, I think your foot might still be in my ass from yesterday.”

Darcy brought her cupped hands up to her lips and blew into them. “Can we sit for a minute?” She looked around his living room. “I mean if that’s okay.”

“It’s your house,” he said, stepping down into the living room. Three large boxes of decorations were clustered around the fireplace. “You made that clear yesterday.”

She hunched up her shoulders. “I had a really awful day yesterday, and it’s no excuse, but I came home to find that Christmas threw up on my house.” She sighed and sank into his couch. “It wasn’t my finest hour.”

He sat across from her. Luckily he’d actually picked up the house yesterday. Christmas decorating always equaled a major overhaul inside and out. “No, but I should have mentioned it to you, I suppose.”

It was her house, as she’d explained. But he did use LED lights to keep down the cost. Anything he did wouldn’t have increased her electricity bill more than a few pennies.

She slid off her coat. A lightweight gray sweater hugged her shoulders and scooped low on her neck to emphasize her clavicle and elegant neck.
Not the right time to notice all of your favorite spots on a woman, Hartley.
Especially this woman.

Darcy pushed up her sleeves and leaned forward. “Speaking of those decorations.”

He sighed, leaning back and lacing his fingers over his belly. “I told you I’d take them down.”

“No, actually. I’d left you the note to leave most of them up. Maybe tone them down to a more traditional look, but keep most of them.”

He sat up. “Why the change?”

“Once I’d calmed down I thought about how much work you’d done and how much Carly loved your decorations. She’s the head of the beautification program for Oakwood Gardens.”

She was too much. She didn’t care about the work he’d done. “So now you’re in with the bigwigs and all is fine?”

“Not the bigwigs, just the Association. They’re always on me to decorate with the rest of the neighborhood. You saved me the trouble.”

“Glad I can be of service.”

She blinked. “I didn’t mean it that way.” Darcy rubbed her forehead. “Look, you’re brilliant.”

Ben laughed. He didn’t need his rather lovely landlady to stroke his ego. “It’s okay, I get it. Since you hate Christmas, it’s a tough sell.”

“Hating Christmas is a major understatement, but it’s for a good reason.”

Ben quirked his brow. “There’s no good reason to hate Christmas.”

“I work retail—at a department store.”

Ben leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Okay, you might have a reason to dislike it, but hate it? C’mon. With all those happy kids and the—”

“The miserable mothers with children they’ve dragged to every store since they opened? Or would I love the kids that that are let loose in the store like it’s their own personal playground? Or better yet, that parents think the toy department is a daycare and can just let the kids play there unsupervised while they shop?”

“Okay,” he held up his hand, “I get it.” He had a feeling there was still more to it.

“And that brings me back to why I’m here. A holiday hiccup that is making my boss twitchy has landed in my lap and I’m wondering if you could help me.”

“Oh yeah, the deal is sweet as hell from where I’m standing, darlin’. You deign to let me keep up my ornaments and now you want a favor?”

Darcy’s chin dropped to her chest. A hank of lemon-blonde hair fell out of her messy twist. Texture was his downfall and between the fluffy soft sweater and her finger-grip-worthy hair, he should jam his hands under his thighs before he did something stupid.

She made a huffing sigh sound. “I’m not doing this right.”

Ben stood up. The urge to brush her hair back and tell her everything was going to be all right made him itchy. “What’s the problem?” He hated to see anyone miserable. That was all. But then again, she hated Christmas. And that just wasn’t natural.

She peered up at him through heavy bangs. “I need your talents at the store. Can you do what you did to the front of my house on a fifteen-foot spruce?”

He rubbed at his biceps. “Wait, did I just hear you right? You want me to come to your store and—”

“Make Christmas explode all over my front end. Money isn’t an object.” Her words came out in a rush.

Ben grinned. The absolute misery on her face was epic. “And I get full creative control?”

She nibbled at her lip again and Ben wanted to brush his thumb over the full, raspberry-colored flesh. And that wasn’t going to happen. She’d probably bite his finger off.

Darcy lifted her chin. “Within reason.”

He had a feeling within reason meant micromanaging him into a safe little display like every other store. “Sorry, darlin’. I’m not interested.”

She stood quickly. “Okay, wait. You can have as much creative control as I can get out of my boss. How’s that?”

He drummed his fingers on his arm. Her eyes drifted to his chest, then his arm and back up to his face. He tucked his hands under his arms. And again, her eyes strayed to his sleeve of ink. Maybe the good little girl next door liked tattoos. “I only have today.”

“That’s perfect, because I need it done today.”

Maybe it was her earnest eyes that were just a little wild, or maybe it was the fact that she’d swallowed her pride to come and ask him to help her, or maybe he was just insane. He heard himself say, “All right. Turn your pretty butt around and go back to work. I have to go shopping.”

Her mouth hung open. “Pretty butt?”

“Well, it is. I got an eyeful when you were tearing apart my work.”

“I—” She cut herself off with a shake of her head. Dammit, she was cute when she was all flustered. “All right. It’s Blackstone’s Department Store.”

He whistled. Blackstone’s was old family money. “Really? And you want me to decorate it?”

“I need Christmas perfection and that seems to be you.”

He laughed. “Now it suits you that I’m a Christmas freak?”

“Yes.”

“Just like that?”

“Look, Ben…can I call you Ben?”

“I think you should at this point.”

“This very unruly and very miserable customer tore through the store with his daughter’s bike and took out half the front of the store’s decorations. Desperate doesn’t cover it.”

Ben’s breath stalled in his chest. That was coincidence. “Daughter’s bike?”

She tucked her hands into her sleeves. “Yes. He lost it. I just can’t get over how upset he was.”

“And you didn’t call the cops?”

“We did, but we don’t have a good image of him on our video surveillance. And in the commotion, I didn’t get a license or ID.”

Ben rubbed his biceps again. Christ. It couldn’t be. “Okay, darlin’. Why don’t you go back to the store. I need to get some supplies and my computer.”

“Why?” She shook her head. “And stop calling me darlin’.”

He smirked at her. It kept slipping off his tongue. “Now that I know it bugs you, I definitely won’t.”

Her eyes flattened and her nostrils flared.

He smiled wider. “You’re kinda gorgeous when you’re mad.”

She made a disgusted snort and turned. “If I wasn’t in such a bind I’d—”

“You’d what?”

She picked up her coat and stuffed her arms into the holes before he could think about holding the jacket for her. “I’d have the lights off the front of the house so freaking fast.”

“Temper, temper, Miss Tucker.”

“I hate Christmas!” She stalked to the door and jerked it open.

“Hey, wait.”

She swung around, a lock of hair falling into her face before she blew it away. He grinned at her and plucked a scarf off his coat rack. “It’s freezing out there.” He wound the simple navy fleece around her neck.

Her eyes widened before she muttered a thank you as she stomped down the stairs. He watched her go. Superior ass didn’t even cover it.

Ben swiped his hand over his jaw. He was well past scruffy and headed for beard. The tattoos and the rough face probably wouldn’t go over well. He climbed the stairs two at a time and started planning as he quickly shaved and showered. He scrubbed a towel over his hair and body, swiping it over the fogged up mirror. His hair was too shaggy. It was all right when he was beardy, but now he looked like a boy band reject.

“Stupid baby face,” he muttered, splashing aftershave on with a hiss. With a grunt, he slapped the towel over the bar and went into his bedroom to pick over his clothes. After five minutes of staring, he grabbed his usual jeans. He was not dressing up for this woman or her store. For fuck’s sake, it was bad enough that he’d shaved.

He dragged a long-sleeved thermal down from his armoire, then tucked it back in. No way was he covering up his tats too. It was going to be hot as hell in the store. He pulled on a black t-shirt and snaked his skull belt through his loops. He wasn’t changing for any damn woman, let alone one that worked for corporate America.

He gathered the soundboard he’d soldered together. He’d been working on an in-house treatment like his outside setup. It was modified to play a softer version of the songs, and could be synchronized with other lights in the house. From the banisters to the mantel to the tree, it could all be set up to play songs in a series or as few as one an hour. Perfecting the kit had taken years.

He was going to give it a test drive in his house, but the department store would be a better plan. With a little ingenuity he could show it off and maybe sell a few kits by next year. He stacked his soldering tools into his soft-sided duffel and tucked in the board and his small Alienware computer. On the way, he stopped at a home store and bought bulk lights. Unsure whether she needed more than that, he tossed a few animatronic deer in the basket along with beach ball-sized ornaments.

If there was one thing Ben knew, it was color. He’d gone to school for graphics but had fallen in love with the tattoo gun halfway through his sophomore year. He’d altered his degree to hone his talents in illustration and color theory. And decorating an arm was no different than decorating a tree. It was all about the right colors. He grabbed balls in varying tones of gold and red. The purples and blues were too close to the shade of a spruce’s green needles. The warm colors would make for a better pop.

A few more oversized ornaments and he moved on to the fat retro lights. He liked the blend of new and old. The red and gold would make for a great traditional palette that would work well for a department store.

A few hundred dollars in the hole and he was back in his truck. Blackstone’s was close to the big box stores on the strip. He pulled in and parked around the back of the store. A beefy guy hopped off a forklift and tipped his sweaty ball cap back. “Can I help ya?”

“I’m looking for Darcy Tucker.”

He looked from Ben to the truck and back. “For?”

“Christmas display.”

“Oh yeah. She mentioned to be on the lookout for you. Need help with the supplies?”