Snowdrop Kisses Part Fifteen
A Christmas love story featuring a plucky florist and a tall dark and handsome entrepreneur
Previously… in Part 15 Wendy and Isaiah go to the club and Wendy bumps into Harry and James.
Chapter 29
James had a hard time concentrating on Harry’s conversation as they walked into the dimly-lit bar.
“Wendy is a lot of fun, isn’t she?” Harry looked at him.
“That’s one word for it.”
“She’ll make someone a fine wife.”
Someone like that green-haired meat-head. James grunted noncommittally.
They found a table at the back of the quiet bar, and perused the whiskey list.
“Don’t you want a wife and a family one day, Jamie?”
“Is this why you called me tonight?” Amusement laced his voice. “To talk about my love life?”
“I know your father would be concerned.”
James snorted. “Dad was pretty happy with all his girlfriends after mum died.”
Harry frowned. “Jamie, you were only eleven when your mother passed. I don’t think you understood what was happening. Your father was miserable. He started drinking more and half the time he wasn’t home for you.”
James' smile was twisted. This was turning into a hell of a night. The waitress came and they asked for two single malts. James hoped that ordering would distract Harry from his conversational tact, but no such luck.
“Your father valued real, meaningful relationships. Think back to your parents, Jamie. Your father was crazy for your mother.”
James frowned. He remembered coming downstairs when he was about ten. He was meant to be in bed, but he’d heard raised voices. He crept to the living room, where his parents sat on the carpet in front of the fire. They were sipping wine and arguing passionately –- something about politics. They were both laughing, but neither would budge from their position. He’d listened to them debate, not understanding the concepts, but enjoying the show, until he’d fallen asleep on the soft carpet. His father must have found him there and carried him back up to bed. A year later, his mother died of cancer.
Harry’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Did you ever think, Jamie, that your dad dated all those women, not because he liked variety, but because he was desperate to regain what he lost.”
James stared at Harry. “I don’t know.” For some reason, an image of Wendy rose to mind. Thankfully, their drinks arrived and he didn’t have to explore the implications of that thought.
Three hours, and several whiskies, later, James sat alone at the bar. Harry had left after their first drink. The room was blurry around the edges, a sign that James was pleasantly drunk.
“We’re closing now, sir.”
For the first time James took a good look at the waitress. She was cute. Tall, with long reddish hair and a short black dress that revealed a curvy body. How had he not noticed her before?
He frowned. It was Wendy, that’s why. She had pissed him off so much that she clouded his ability to spot an attractive woman. What kind of person tries to kiss someone else while on a date with a giant, green-haired flower wholesaler? In fact, he hadn’t been with another woman since he met Wendy. What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn’t let his love life suffer because of that mouthy little pipsqueak.
He smiled at the server, “I bet you had a long night. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”
An hour later, James and Kristi left a nearby diner and were walking back to her apartment. Kristi was a sweet girl studying to be an accountant. Her eyes lit up as she discussed business entities and going concerns —which she did at length.
“So I told him, if companies can’t assign a monetary transaction, they shouldn’t record it in their end of year statements, do you see?”
“Yes, yes,” agreed James. The coffee had sobered him up and he felt tired, old and utterly bored.
“The best thing about school is that I don’t have class until noon tomorrow. I can stay up as late as I want tonight.” Kristi gave him a meaningful look.
“Really?” James asked, his boredom vanishing. They stopped in front of an apartment building. “That’s fascinating,” he murmured.
“Isn’t it,” Kristi said, staring into his eyes. “This is my building. Why don’t you see me to my apartment?” She took his hand and led him through the entranceway.
As soon as the doors closed on the elevator, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Their kiss was deep and sensuous, and James noticed Kristi’s pierced tongue for the first time — an unexpected development for an accountant.
“That’s not all I’ve got pierced.”
James pulled her closer to him, and the feel of her body pressed to his stirred his response.
The elevator dinged, and Kristi tugged him to her apartment door. “I noticed you at the bar as soon as you walked in. I thought, ‘that older guy is hot, hot, hot.’” She rooted through her bag for her keys.
James should have been thrilled that a sexy, tongue-pierced, twenty-something was into him. Instead, he found her words almost embarrassing. He could hear Wendy’s voice at the Gallery, accusing him of sleeping with any woman that crossed his path.
Kristi found the key and unlocked the door. “Come on,” she said. “I’m getting awfully hot in all of these clothes.”
“Wait a second,” James hesitated at the doorway. He’d prove to Wendy that he didn’t just sleep with random women he had no connection with. He could have passionate, respectful debates with the women he was dating. They could converse about life. “What do you think about climate change?”
“What are you talking about?” She bent down to undo her boots, and then trailed her fingers back up her leg.
James was momentarily distracted, but couldn’t let his question go. “You know? Rising oceans?”
Kristi looked puzzled. “Uh, it sucks, obviously.”
“I agree. At my company we have a policy to reduce —”
“I mean, so many people buy into the lies, you know?”
James proceeded cautiously. “The lies?”
“They think climate change is some unnatural thing created by humans, but duh — ever heard of the ice age? It’s natural. We shouldn’t fight it.”
James’ desire ebbed away. “You know what, I’ve got to go.”
“What are you talking about? Just because I don’t want to talk about carbon emissions? Is this a joke?”
James backed to the elevator, apologizing the whole way. It wasn’t until he was outside that the full import of what he had done hit him. He’d turned down hot, hot sex because his date held an opinion he disagreed with.
What the hell had Wendy done to him?
Chapter 30
A week later, Wendy hummed as she negotiated the winding country road. The butterflies in her belly were flapping out of control. Tonight was the LCC party, the biggest event of her professional career. She was also about to come face to face with James for the first time since she had found herself sucking on his nose. Ack! Think about something less horrifying, like Dr. Pimple Popper’s epic black head removal or Woody Allen. Her humming got louder.
“Hey, ease down on the noise.”
Wendy glanced over at Vivienne, who had the passenger seat completely reclined and her feet up on the dash. For most of the drive from Ottawa, Vivienne’s snores and the scent of stale cigarettes had been her only companions. Wendy couldn’t really blame her friend for her fatigue; they had both been up until two a.m., finishing all the centerpieces.
Despite the frigid cold, Wendy unrolled the window a bit to get a whiff of country air. They were about two hours outside of the city now, deep in the Ottawa Valley, a picturesque area of sleepy villages and gentle hills. It reminded her a bit of the woods back home. You could drive for miles through Nova Scotia’s interior and see nothing but trees. She felt homesick. It was just too expensive to fly home for the holidays, especially when it was such a busy time for the store.
“There sure is a whole lot of nothing out here,” commented Vivienne.
“I think it’s beautiful.” Wendy gestured to a stand of dark green firs, their boughs dusted with snow. “I spotted a blue jay.”
“I stand corrected: this is party-central. Whoopee.”
Wendy decided not to try to cheer Vivienne up. The plan was for her assistant to spend a couple of hours helping Wendy with the preliminary set-up and then catch a ride back to Ottawa with Isaiah, who was delivering the flowers. Didi, the girl Wendy used occasionally when Vivienne was on holiday, would open Love's Bouquet, but would need help handling the Saturday rush.
Vivienne hadn’t gone for this plan at first, but when Wendy had told her what kind of overtime she would pay, she changed her tune. That still didn’t make her very pleasant company.
“This must be it,” said Wendy, turning into a steep drive.
Vivienne’s curiosity got the better of her, and she brought her seat to an upright position.
They passed through high stone gates and Wendy drove around the curve of the driveway. A sprawling home came into view. Its main part was a beautiful old stone manor, more befitting Victorian England, than rural Ontario. A few additions popped out from the sides, but they melded well with the home’s overall design. The home’s local limestone, made it look aged and mellow in the soft December light. Huge pine trees, at least a hundred years old, towered over the drive.
Wendy spotted the roof of a peaked glass enclosure on the west side of the house. Could it be a greenhouse? If she had time, she’d love to take a peek.
“Crofton’s got some kind of dough,” commented Vivienne.
Wendy pulled up in front of the main entrance. As if on cue, the door opened and James stepped out.
Wendy had never seen him in anything other than his tailored business suits, which gave him an air of unmistakable power. He still exuded this sense of authority, but dressed in jeans and a thick woollen sweater, he was more relaxed and less imposing. Good. Less imposing was good.
Even Vivienne was impressed by the force of the Crofton handsomeness. “Damn!” she muttered as he walked towards the car. Then, tearing her eyes off James, she glared at Wendy, she said, “Can you stop that humming? You’re getting louder.”
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