Scrooged for the Holidays

Chapter 1

Chapter one

Greer

“Tell Tim that if he doesn’t deliver the eviction notice to Carole’s Bar by two pm tomorrow, his dick will end up in the jar his wife keeps his balls in,” I say to my assistant, Avery, over the speaker of my SUV.

“Geez, Ms. Scrooge. Bah! Humbug!”

The snow thickens, and I flip my windshield wipers to a faster speed. The action makes it harder for me to see the winding road lined with pines, especially since it’s after three and already getting dark. Fucking winter.

“Is that supposed to make me feel bad or something?” I ask.

“I mean, yeah? It’s three days till Christmas, and most people are on vacation. Not to mention, evicting people right now is cruel—”

“Avery.” I cut her off. “It’s Tim’s job, and it’s his fault he waited until today. I’ve been asking him to do it for two weeks.”

“His wife had a baby two weeks ago.”

I sigh. “Yeah, keyword being ‘wife.’ He didn’t push a watermelon out of his penis.”

“Greer.” She sighs. “Seriously?”

“What? It’s a fact. Tell him he needs to get it done, and if he doesn’t, I’ll make him do it on Christmas. And if he doesn’t do it then, I’ll suggest Mr. Cross fire him and replace him with someone who can get the job done when I ask.”

“Okay. Would you like me to tell him in those exact words?”

“Avery,” I warn. She’s my oldest friend—my only friend—and one I’ve had since childhood, and yes, I allow her to speak to me more openly than anyone else in my life, but she knows better than to push me like this.

I’m truly not above firing her if she can’t do her job and continues to question me at every turn.

She knows that, too, because I’ve fired her before then rehired her after she begged me for the job back.

It’s a job she doesn’t really need, since her parents are wealthy and she’s got a trust fund, but she wants to work and promised to be on her best behavior. Unfortunately for her, this isn’t “best behavior.”

She exhales. “Anything else I can do for you to make Christmas a little less merry?”

I roll my eyes even though she can’t see me. “You know, it’s just another time of the year. Not everyone celebrates it.”

“That’s true, but haven’t you ever heard of holiday cheer? The Christmas spirit?”

“Bah! Humbug!” I parrot her earlier jab at me. I’ve been called a Scrooge many times before; it’s not an original thought. She’s called me that before, too—every December since I decided Christmas didn’t need to be celebrated.

She sighs again. “Right, well, I’m going to call Tim.”

I stop her before she hangs up. “I actually do need something else from you. I’m almost to Holly’s Restaurant in Garland. I need you to book me a room in a nearby town for the night. The snow is picking up, and I don’t want to drive back in it.”

“Greer, tell me you’re not!”

“Tell you I’m not what?”

“I was in the meeting this morning with you and Mr. Cross. He said the evaluation of that property could wait till after the new year.”

She’s right; he did tell me that. But I have time in my schedule now.

And more importantly, I’ve got my eye on an executive position at the commercial real estate investment firm I work for, Northlight Capital, Inc.

, the biggest and most competitive commercial real estate investment firm in Colorado.

For the past few years, I’ve worked as an asset manager, overseeing underperforming hospitality properties and making hard calls on whether they’re worth holding, flipping, or selling off.

I report to one of the owners, Mr. Cross, but I want more.

I don’t just want to manage assets and oversee one junior employee like Tim, I want to be part of the investment team that decides what properties we buy, sell, and build.

The decision on who gets promoted could come after the new year, which means I need to end this year with a bang.

I need Mr. Cross to see that this job isn’t just a career to me; it’s my life.

I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I belong at the table, even if it means hurting some feelings along the way.

“I didn’t have anything pressing for the next few days, and I’d like to have this done now so Mr. Cross and the executive team can decide what we want to do with the properties in January.”

“You don’t have anything pressing because it’s a holiday, Greer. You should take some time off. I don’t know, maybe come spend time with me and your family? You know your parents still get together at my parents’ place every year.”

I snort. “Yeah, sure.” She knows my family doesn’t want to see me, and I don’t want to see them or anyone. Especially on Christmas.

“I suppose you’ll expect me to work then?”

“You have Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off.”

“Right, thank you for that.”

I clench my hands around the steering wheel. “You begged me for your job. If you don’t want it, tell me.”

Truthfully, I don’t know why she wants it. My guess has been that it’s to prove something to herself and pass the time. But I don’t ask, and she doesn’t tell me.

There’s a pause at the end of the line, and for a hot second, I think she might quit. But she simply says, “Okay, I’ll send you the booking information when I have it. Do you need anything else?”

“Can you email me a list of our current properties in Garland? Might as well check up on a few more businesses while I’m there.”

She sighs again, and I nearly hang up the phone.

I know she wants to give me a piece of her mind, tell me that as soon as the business owners see me walk through the door in my expensive suit with a tablet and stylus in my hands, I’ll ruin their Christmas, but like a smart woman, she doesn’t. Avery knows she’s already on thin ice.

“I’ll email that as soon as we get off the phone.”

“Thank you. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Goodbye, Ms. Mallory.”

I clench my jaw and grind my teeth. Avery only calls me Ms. Mallory at the office when colleagues, Mr. Cross, or a board member is around. Never over the phone or when we’re alone. I open my mouth to say something, even though I don’t know what I’m going to say, but she hangs up.

“Angels We Have Heard on High” filters through the speakers, and I groan.

I hit the button on my steering wheel to change the radio to a new station.

The last thing I want to listen to right now is some cheesy, cheery Christmas song.

The news channel is giving a weather report for the area, so I leave it.

“We’ve got a heavy winter storm moving across the entire state, and it’s expected to continue well into the next few days.

Mountain areas, including Garland and beyond, could see over two feet of snow, with high winds and low visibility making travel dangerous.

Make sure you’ve got everything you need for Christmas—once the roads start closing, they may stay that way for a while. ”

“Shit,” I mumble.

The male voice fades out, and more Christmas music plays. I jab the Bluetooth button on my wheel, and the audiobook I was listening to before picks back up. I grip the wheel harder, peering through the snow that’s falling thicker now.

The weatherman is right—travel is going to get dangerous, and I’m going to get stuck up here in the mountains.

I suppose it isn’t the worst thing, considering my plans for Christmas involved working and catching up on reading.

A new book from my favorite romance author recently came out, and I’ve been dying to get my hands on it.

It’s a monster romance, an indulgence only Avery knows I partake in.

Thankfully, I had the last-minute idea to chuck it in a travel bag I brought with me.

I grew up near the mountains and travel to Garland every so often, so I know it’s good to be prepared—in this case, I was right to pack a bag.

I just wish I’d packed more than one outfit and a pair of pajamas.

I hate wearing the same clothes two days in a row.

My GPS interrupts my audiobook—all about how to master your emotions and become a better businessperson—by telling me to take a left.

When I do, I see the sign indicating I’m entering Garland.

With the snow coming down the way it is, I probably won’t have the time to look at the other properties, but at least I can get Holly’s Restaurant done.

Ten minutes later, I pull into the parking lot of said property.

The mom-and-pop diner has been renting out the space for twenty years, even before we bought most of the commercial spaces in town a few years back.

We renovated the others but kept this one as is since it was doing well, keeping a bit of the quaint charm of this small ski town in the process.

But something’s changed recently, and their numbers are falling dramatically. Moreover, the building needs some serious maintenance given how long they’ve been there. I’m here to speak with them about next steps, which will more than likely lead to an eviction notice in the new year.

I turn off my SUV and text Avery to book me more than one night at whatever place she finds.

She texts back a thumbs-up emoji, and I set my phone on the passenger seat, flipping down the visor and opening the mirror so I can touch up my makeup.

My eyes stare back at me, one with a blue iris and the other one half-blue and half-brown due to my partial heterochromia.

I was born with it, and I’ve always loved the unique color.

People find my gaze hypnotizing, and eye contact in my line of work is important.

It also comes in handy when I’m out looking for a man to spend the night with. They often can’t look away.

I fluff my lightly curled long copper hair, its blonde highlights falling to frame my face.

I reapply my cherry-red lipstick, smacking my lips when I’m satisfied with how it looks, before grabbing my cream-colored scarf off the seat and buttoning up my fire-engine red peacoat.

After a final glance in the mirror, I get out of the vehicle with my tablet and stylus, the frigid wind brushing my cheeks as snowflakes blanket me.

I stare ahead at the restaurant decorated in cheesy Christmas decor—complete with those big multi-colored bulbs and tacky garland—and see only a few people eating inside through the windows.

I throw my shoulders back and school my features. I’m ready to do my job and lock in a promotion, no matter what it takes or what time of year it is.