Page 13 of Stranded in A Small Town Christmas
“I’m shocked you know how to do that,” she says as she takes the last plate from me.
That hurts, which surprises me. I usually don’t care what anybody except my mom, Judy, and my closest advisors think of me. But it bothers me that Natalie thinks I’m incapable of doing basic household chores. “I can do a lot of things that would surprise you.”
“Your mom said you don’t even drive yourself. Last night, I was waiting for you to ask if we provide a valet to squeeze just the right amount of toothpaste onto your toothbrush for you.” She laughs when I give her a sideways look.
“I used to love driving,” I say, not sure why I feel compelled to share that. “I gave it up a long time ago because it was a waste of time.”
“If you loved doing it, it wasn’t a waste of your time.”
“I was fighting Manhattan traffic, trying to get back into the city for a meeting with an investor and I was frustrated because I could be using that time to prepare for the meeting I had after that one. I started thinking about how much time I spent driving that could be spent working in the backseat and decided a driver made more sense from a business standpoint.”
“There’s more to life than business,” she says, and my body tenses in response.
“No,” I say immediately, a reflexive rejection of that idea.
She gives me a disappointed look that I feel to my core. “Yes.”
With anybody else, I’d probably freeze them with a look and move on, but I can’t do it. “My companies employ hundreds of people. There are investors. A lot of people depend on me giving them one hundred percent. I take that responsibility very seriously and I can’t fail.”
She tilts her head, and I can see that she’s not going to let it go. “How much of your money is generational wealth?”
“None. I earned every dollar.”
“Okay, so you must be pretty smart.” Somehow it doesn’t sound like she’s trying to flatter me. “I bet you’ve hired a lot of really smart people to help you, right?”
“The best.”
“So I think you can probably take a weekend for yourself without all of those companies crumbling.” She grins. “Plus, you don’t have any choice because you put your phone and wallet in your briefcase and then lost the briefcase. And now you’re stuck with me, so you may as well let yourself enjoy it.”
I don’t tell her that’s exactly what I want to do—I want to let myself enjoy being stuck with her—but I can’t lose sight of why she’s doing this. One hundred thousand dollars.
She’s right. I am smart. I have self-discipline and willpower. And my brain is in charge, not my dick. I’ll be keeping that in my borrowed denim pants.
Chapter Nine
Natalie
* * *
“You said your dish is microwave pizza.”
“I lied.” I slap Donovan’s hand when he reaches for the pie plate. He’s already had a slice of the apple pie. He cut it himself and to say it was a generous serving would be an understatement. “I’m pretty good at baking, which is different from cooking. The kids can use my burgers as hockey pucks, but pies and breads, I can do. Cookies are iffy.”
I’ve spent most of the morning in the kitchen, baking and preparing food. Donovan disappeared for a little while to call his mom and check in with the airport on the status of his lost briefcase. And then he got roped into helping Mel and Elsie build an absolutely disastrous gingerbread house so Lyla could help Mom with decorations for the inn’s parade float.
But when he snuck into the kitchen for another cup of coffee, he sat on a stool at the island to watch me cutting a pie and he hasn’t left yet. Donovan watching makes me a little self-conscious, but I do like his company.
“What’s in those dishes?” he asks, pointing at four small, covered casserole dishes on the counter.
“Lasagna, and it’s not for you.”
“Your family really likes lasagna.”
“Nana Jo enjoys making it. There’s a bit of a difference. And it travels well.”
That gets his attention. “Where’s it going?”
“To a few neighbors who don’t have family in town, but don’t get around well in this weather. You’ll get to see Charming Lake in the daylight.” He’s frowning, and I give him a look. “You said you’d embrace the holiday spirit, remember?”
