A Cinderella Story: Maid Under the Mistletoe / My Fair Billionaire / Second Chance with the CEO

“We’re not in a hurry, are we?” she asked.

Sam stopped at a red light and looked at her warily. “Why?”

“Because, it’s early, but we could stay in town for a while. Have dinner at the steak house...”

She gave him a smile designed to bring a man to his knees. And it was working.

“You want to go out to dinner?” he asked.

“Well,” she said, shrugging. “It’s early, but that won’t kill us.”

He frowned and threw a glance out the windshield at the swirls of white drifting down from a leaden sky. “Still snowing. We should get up the mountain while we still can.”

She laughed and God, he loved the sound of it—even if it was directed at him and his lame attempt to get out of town.

“It’s not a blizzard, Sam. An hour won’t hurt either of us.”

“Easy for you to say,” Sam muttered darkly. “You like talking to people.” The sound of her laughter filled the truck and eased his irritation as he headed toward the restaurant.

* * *

Everybody in town had to be in the steak house, and Joy thought it was a good thing. She knew a lot of people in Franklin and she made sure to introduce Sam to most of them. Sure, it didn’t make for a relaxing dinner—she could actually see him tightening up—but it felt good to watch people greet him. To tell him how much they loved the woodworking he did. And the more uncomfortable he got with the praise, the more Joy relished it.

He’d been too long in his comfort zone of solitude. He’d made himself an island, and swimming to the mainland would be exhausting. But it would so be worth the trip.

“I’ve never owned anything as beautiful as that bowl you made,” Elinor Cummings gushed, laying one hand on Sam’s shoulder in benediction. She was in her fifties, with graying black hair that had been ruthlessly sprayed into submission.

“Thanks.” He shot Joy a look that promised payback in the very near future. She wasn’t worried. Like an injured animal, Sam would snarl and growl at anyone who came too close. But he wouldn’t bite.

“I love what you did with the bowl. The rough outside, looks as though you just picked it up off the forest floor—” Elinor continued.

“I did,” Sam said, clearly hoping to cut her off, but pasting a polite, if strained, smile on his face.

“—and the inside looks like a jewel,” she continued, undeterred from lavishing him with praise. “All of those lovely colors in the grain of that wood, all so polished, and it just gleams in the light.” She planted one hand against her chest and gave a sigh. “It’s simply lovely. Two sides of life,” she mused, “that’s what it says to me, two sides, the hard and the good, the sad and the glad. It’s lovely. Just lovely.”

“All right now, Ellie,” her husband said, with an understanding wink for Sam and Joy, “let’s let the man eat. Good to meet you, Sam.”

Sam nodded, then reached for the beer in front of him and took a long pull. The Cummingses had been just the last in a long stream of people who’d stopped by their table to greet Joy and meet Sam. Every damn one of them had given him a look that said Ah, the hermit. That’s what he looks like!

And then had come the speculative glances, as they wondered whether Sam and Joy were a couple, and that irritated him, as well. This was what happened when you met people. They started poking their noses into your life and pretty soon, that life was open season to anyone with a sense of curiosity. As the last of the strangers went back to their own tables, he glared at Joy.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

In the light of the candle at their table, her eyes sparkled as she grinned. “I could try to deny it, but why bother? Yes, I am. It’s good to see you actually forced to talk to people. And Elinor clearly loves your work. Isn’t it nice to hear compliments?”

“It’s a bowl.” He sighed. “Nothing deep or meaningful to the design. Just a bowl. People always want to analyze, interpret what the artist meant. Sometimes a bowl is just a bowl.”

She laughed and shook her head. “You can’t fool me. I’ve seen your stuff in Crafty. Nothing about what you make is ‘just’ anything. People love your work, and if you gave them half a chance, they’d like you, too.”

“And I want that because...”

“Because it’s better than being a recluse.” Joy leaned forward, bracing her elbows on the table. “Honestly, Sam, you can’t stay on the mountain by yourself forever.”

He hated admitting even to himself that she was right. Hell, he’d talked more, listened more, in the last couple of weeks than he had in years. His house wasn’t empty. Wasn’t filled with the careful quiet he normally knew. Kaye generally left him to his own devices, so he was essentially alone, even when his housekeeper was there. Joy and Holly had pushed their way into the center of his life and had shown him just how barren it had been.

But when they left, his life would slide back onto its original course and the silence would seem even deeper. And God, he didn’t like the thought of that.

* * *

Sam frowned. “Why are we really here?”

“To eat that amazing steak, for one,” Joy said, sipping at her wine. Interesting, she thought, how his facial expressions gave hints to what he was thinking. And even more interesting how fast a smile from him could dissolve into the more familiar scowl. She’d have given a lot in that moment to know exactly what was running through his mind.

“And for another?”

“To show you how nice the people of Franklin are. To prove to you that you can meet people without turning into a pillar of salt...” She sat back, sipped at her wine again and kept her voice lighter than she felt. “Admit it. You had a good time.”

“The steak was good,” he said grudgingly, but she saw a flash of a smile that appeared and disappeared in a heartbeat.

“And the company.”

His gaze fixed on hers. “You already know I like the company.”

“I do,” she said and felt a swirl of nerves flutter into life in the pit of her belly. Why was it this man who could make her feel things she’d never felt before? Life would have been so much easier if she’d found some nice, uncomplicated guy to fall for. But then she wouldn’t be able to look into those golden-brown eyes of his, would she? “But you had a good time talking to other people, too. It just makes you uncomfortable hearing compliments.”

“Think you know me, don’t you?”

“Yep,” she said, smiling at him in spite of the spark of irritation in his eyes. Just as Holly had once said, he’s not mean, he’s just crabby. He didn’t fool her anymore. Even when he was angry, it didn’t last. Even when she ambushed him with knowledge of his past, he didn’t cling to the fury that had erupted inside him. Even when he didn’t want to spend time with a child, he went out of his way to make her dreams come true.

Joy’s heart ached with all she was feeling, and she wondered if he could see it in her eyes.

The room was crowded. The log walls were smoke-stained from years of exposure to the wood fireplace that even now boasted a roaring blaze. People sat at round tables and a few leather booths along one wall while the wall facing Main Street was floor-to-ceiling windows, displaying the winter scene unfolding outside. Tonight, the music pumping through the speakers overhead was classical, something weepy with strings and piano. And sitting across the table from her, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else but there, was the man who held her heart.

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