Page 16 of Santa Baby Maybe
4
Two Months ago
Joy
“Okay, now we take these cylinders of glass and carefully just move them over the flame. We’re just looking to get the glass soft. We don’t want to turn it into liquid and have it droop all over the place.” Cheryl guided the group of ten people who had signed up for the tour of the factory.
I sat at my desk on the raised dais, overseeing our first weekend holiday event.
Following through on W.B.’s idea, I’d proposed Sunday Ornament-Making Brunch events. Everyone got a lesson in blowing glass and an opportunity to make their own ornament. Followed by tea or hot chocolate and canapés for a true holiday celebration, even though it was still October.
It wasn’t a huge moneymaker, but based on our bookings, which were steady right up through Christmas, it was going to be profitable. Given how fast it all booked out, I was sure W.B. was already planning ways to expand it for next year.
The bottom line—I was feeling good. Really good. The Golden Rings line was selling to buyers like crazy. We were barely keeping up with the demand. We’d set up the website for online sales for the ornaments and started seeing crazy pre-order numbers. So many we’d had to put the Sold Out sign up for any deliveries prior to this Christmas. And we were already selling for next Christmas.
Business was so crazy I was actually trying to convince one very stubborn CFO we needed to hire more blowers. Kane Co. was, of course, in the process of going through a merger, and mergers were always scary for everyone involved. But the truth was we couldn’t wait to see how that all worked out in the New Year. In my opinion, we needed the labor now.
I heard the sound of breaking glass followed by groans of dismay and smiled. Glass blowing wasn’t for the faint of heart.
A door, which lead to the warehouse on the other side of the factory floor, opened and I waved at Sophie, Wes’s sister, whom I’d gotten to know in the last few months working at Kane.
“I can’t believe you pulled this off,” she said, hopping onto the desk next to me and snagging one of the canapés on a plate I’d scored for myself. Because canapés were delicious. There was just something better about cucumber when you cut it into tiny, perfect crustless sandwiches.
“I know, right? When I pitched the idea, W.B. thought it wouldn’t work. Of course, then I had to remind him it washisidea. To which he’d lifted his nose and saidNo idea I’ve ever had has revolved around canapés.”
Sophie howled at my W.B. impression. “Oh my gosh, you nailed him. I mean, he’s got that stick so far up his ass, he’s probably forgotten it’s even there. Probably goes through this days just wondering why he hasn’t taken a dump in the last ten years.”
I frowned at that. Yes, W.B. was structured and controlled, and maybe a little buttoned up, but I didn’t think he was a jerk anymore. I thought this mostly because the day after he bumped into me, he’d bought me two veggie dogs smothered with fried onions for lunch.
He’d left them on my desk with a note that readHot Dogs For Life.
Since that day I’d started seeing him again in the break room and around the office, so I knew he wasn’t purposefully avoiding me.
Not that I was purposefully seeking him out or anything. Although, I did make it a point to report all my expenses to him directly. Dropping off the bills for the Sunday events in his office so I could listen to him grumble about how this idea had to work. Informing him of any extra supplies I needed to buy because we were running low so I could get a stern lecture on budget overages.
I don’t know why it amused me as much as it did. I suppose ruffling feathers was my way of having fun. At least, ruffling W.B.’s feathers.
Although lately I’d noticed he’d been bothered by something. Anytime I went to his office, there was always this deep furrow between his brows, like something was troubling him deeply, and he’d been distracted during our conversations.
“Speak of the devil,” Sophie said and then gave me a nudge in my ribs with her elbow.
I turned toward the entrance to the building, and sure enough, W.B. was walking inside.
“And what is he wearing? Are those jeans? And no tie? Audible gasp!”
He was definitely not in his typical suit and tie, that was for sure. Up until now, it had been a mild fall for Denver, but today there had been a definite chill in the air. A warning to all natives that winter was on its way and that meant snow. Only W.B. hadn’t taken heed of the warning and was wearing only jeans and a thermal with no coat. A thermal that looked pretty tight across an impressive chest.
Had I not noticed his chest in all the months we’d been talking?
He spotted me almost immediately and instinctively I gave him a wave, which he returned with a smile as he headed over in our direction.
“Hey, W.B.” Sophie called out to him even as she hopped off the desk.
“Sophie,” he said somberly as he approached us.
“Well, I guess I’ll head home now,” she said. “Joy, I’ll talk to you. W.B., enjoy the rest of your day.”
She headed back through the door that led to the warehouse to collect her stuff. I watched her go, and even though we were in a room filled with visitors who were now well into their ornament-making stage, I still felt awkward. Or uncomfortable.
