Snow Harm, No Foul

Chapter 1

1

IVY

Dear Santa, I know I’ve asked you for this same thing for the last ten years, but PLEASE let this one be when you gift me smaller tits for Christmas.

I’m not even that picky. If you could just use your magic powers to shrink ’em from a DD to a C, that would be more than enough. My back hurts.

Sincerely, Ivy Bell.

I scribble the letter on my notepad and then rip it off, crumpling it. With an arched throw, I watch it swoosh into the garbage can. I spin around in my desk chair with a quiet whoop.

The heat coming down from the vent above my desk makes my skin sticky beneath my heavy knitted sweater. It’s the last week of November and minus thirty with the wind chill, so obviously, I dressed accordingly. I’m kicking myself in the ass for that now.

It’s been a week since I’ve had to come into the office for work instead of doing it all from home, and I wasn’t expecting it to be so damn hot. I usually keep my house cool in the winter to try to manage my heating bill.

Leaning back in my chair, I stretch out my back and wince at the tightness in my spine. I always blame my boobs for this—as seen by my crumpled Christmas wish—but really, it’s my terrible posture. I’m going to have a massive hump in my spine by the time I’m forty at the rate I’m going. My tits will be making good friends with my knees then.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Turning my chair, I focus on the woman half inside my cubicle. Jill, one of my colleagues here at the Snowbell Ridge town office, flashes me a wide, honest smile.

Dressed in a red velvet skirt with a matching top, snowflake earrings, and red heels with white pompoms on the toes, she might as well be Mrs. Claus.

She’s the one who helped me decorate the office last week. We spent hours together at the Christmas store racking up the bill before swiping our boss’s card at the till and hauling bag after bag in from my car. It was quite the bonding experience.

“It’s easier working at home,” I tell her.

She fiddles with one of her earrings. “I prefer to be here. There’s nobody for me to chat with at home.”

“That’s why I like it.”

I’m not a grumpy person, but I do like my own space and privacy.

“Fair enough.”

“Are you working all the way until Christmas?”

She pushes out her bottom lip. “Yes. I need the extra money too much to take any days off.”

“Me too.”

Not to mention that I’ve got a lot to do before then.

It’s not only my first Christmas here in Snowbell Ridge but also my first as its marketing and events coordinator. I’m in charge of the preparations for the recurring Let’s Get Blitzen’d event that’s set to take place on Christmas Eve.

It’s always held at the Frosty Mug bar downtown, and I’m supposed to have my first business meeting with the owner this Friday to start preparations.

That’s the real reason I’m here today. All of the information from the previous events hasn’t been moved onto the computers yet and is still in the archaic age of papers in a filing cabinet.

The woman I took over for is well into her seventies, and while she’s lovely, I can tell her age solely from what she left behind for me.

I think that’s why I was hired for this job in the first place. I’m only twenty-one, and I’ve got what it takes to bring some new life into an event that I’ve been told is slowly dying in popularity year by year.

Jill comes closer, taking a look at my desk and the red glitter pen I forgot to put the cap back on.

“Are you ready for your meeting Friday? The owner is a bit . . .”

I cock a brow. “A bit what?”

“Rude. He’s kind of like the Scrooge.”

I can’t hold in my laugh. “I can handle rude. But isn’t it a little redundant to be a Scrooge when you’re hosting a Christmas event?”

“It brings in a lot of traffic,” she says flippantly.

“Money talks, I guess.”

“In this economy? You know it does.”

Folding my arms beneath my chest, I tap a beat on my bicep. “I’m not above sucking up if it means my job will be easier. Even Scrooge has a weakness. Do you know his?”

“Most likely the hearts of virgins,” she deadpans.

Dry humour with a bit of darkness is my favourite. Maybe that’s why I get along so well with Jill.

“I’m out of the question, then. Know anyone who fits the bill? Any willing sacrifices?”

She laughs so hard she snorts and goes beet red. I grin and add, “What about chocolate? Or booze? Does he seem like a whiskey or tequila guy?”

“He seems more like the moonshine type,” she answers, stifling her laughter.

“Moonshine . . . alright. I’ll see what I can do.”

She winks. “Wrap it in a bow, too. Maybe that will soften him up.”

“Think he’d wear a knitted sweater?”

“Like the one you have on? Don’t tell me you made that!”

Diving toward me, Jill pinches the thick material of my sweater and rolls it between her fingers. Her deep brown eyes glow with interest.

I let her poke and prod at my work. “Yes. I’ve been knitting since I was a teenager.”

“Really? What all do you do? Surely, not just sweaters.”

“I’ll do anything. I used to sell slippers and blankets at the farmer’s market in the summer before I moved here.”

“You have to do the Christmas market this year! It’s inside the hockey rink on December twenty-third.”

Interest zips up my spine. “I’d love to.”

“Here, let me give you my aunt’s number. She’s the organizer, so if you really do want a table, she’ll make sure you get one,” Jill rambles, leaning back out of my space to grab my pen and start writing on my notepad. “It would be a great way to get your name moving around town. It’s never easy being the new person, especially in a small place like Snowbell.”

Snowbell Ridge wasn’t my dream place to live, but when my relationship with my ex crashed and burned, I moved back in with my parents for five months and learned that I couldn’t do it any longer. Nowhere close to Oak Point was hiring, so I had to expand my search.

I found the listing for the job I have now and, two weeks later, was moving into a cute little rental on the outskirts of Snowbell Ridge. It’s a couple of hours’ drive west of my hometown and is more than enough distance between my past life and the one I’m building now from the ground up.

“I know what it’s like trying to find a place for yourself in a small town. Oak Point makes Snowbell look Calgary-sized. It’s not even really a town because there aren’t enough people there,” I say.

“Where is Oak Point? I don’t think I’ve actually heard of it before.”

“It’s south of Calgary, about a forty-minute drive from the Rocky Mountains. Close enough to Cherry Peak that I’d take drives up there just for a change of scenery.”

“So, it’s prettier than here?” she jokes.

I smile slightly. “It is. The mountains are the best thing about it.”

“Well, I hope you don’t hate flat land too much. I’d like if you stayed here for a while.”

“I haven’t minded it too much yet. The snowfall hasn’t changed at all.”

It’s never-ending. Every morning, I wake up and don’t understand how the piles keep getting higher.

“I have a snow blower you can borrow if you’re tired of shovelling all the snow,” she offers.

“I’d appreciate that, actually. I hate shovelling. It’s a job I’m happy to hand off to a man.”

She nods and exhales heavily. “I know! But ones nice enough to do that for you are hard to come by here.”

“Maybe we need to put an ad out,” I tease.

“ISO a strong man to help clear our sidewalks.”

I laugh. “It sounds a bit dirty when you say it like that.”

“I mean, I’m up for both types of sidewalk clearing, but I’ll have to see how they do with my actual sidewalk first.”

“Like a test run?”

“Exactly! If he can finish the job without complaining, then I’ll consider him for something physically demanding.”

“Sex with you is more work than shovelling heavy, packed-down piles of snow?”

She shrugs, the tips of her ears pinking up. “I like to be thrown around sometimes. Sue me.”

“Hey, I’m not one to judge. I like that, too. Add some spanking and choking, and I’m not going anywhere.”

A throat clears, the noise of it too deep to come from Jill. I press my lips together to keep quiet and slowly spin in my chair.

My co-worker’s eyes flare wide as she takes in the man standing at the entrance to my cubicle, looking like a school principal ready to hand out detentions to naughty students.

Grayson Pierce, our boss, doesn’t intimidate me as much as he does Jill. He’s handsome—hot as fuck, really—and tall enough that he can probably change a lightbulb without needing a step stool to reach it.

But he’s not my type. Too smooth around the edges.

I don’t want a guy who would put me in detention when I misbehave. I want one that will bend me over a desk and spank me until he thinks I’ve been punished enough. Ideally, with a flaming red ass and a soaked pussy.

“Hi, Grayson,” I say, shoving those thoughts from my head.

He crosses his left foot over the right and leans his shoulder against the wall in an attempt to look intimidating. “Ivy. Jill. I hope you weren’t wasting the day away gossiping.”

I stare up at him and blink innocently. “No, we weren’t. Jill was just telling me how badly her sidewalks need to be cleared. Are you available to help anytime soon?”

Jill goes as red as her dress. Her poor ears don’t have a chance now of returning to their normal pasty-white colour.

“I have a snow blower!” she blurts out.

I shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as I am, but I can’t help it. It’s been a while since my chest has felt so light.

Keeping Jill beneath my gaze, I say, “You’re letting me borrow it, remember?”

“I’ll survive until you’re done.”

“Or . . . Grayson could help.”

Clearly feeling pressured, our boss clears his throat again and stands as straight as a metal bar. “I can come by this weekend. There’s supposed to be another five inches falling over the next two days.”

Jill stops glaring at me long enough to offer him a grateful smile. “Thank you. If you’re sure.”

“I am. Now, get back to work. Both of you,” he says before ducking out of the cubicle and most likely heading back to his office.

I’m not even sure what he does here, but I do know that he’s the one who could fire me if I do something terrible enough.

Jill waits until he’s out of earshot before glaring at me again and whisper-hissing, “You’re not getting my snow blower now!”

I only laugh in response and roll back to my desk. She slips out of the cubicle but doesn’t move a step further before pointing a finger at me.

“Text me before you meet the bar owner. I’ll have to make sure to stop by and tell him to shovel your sidewalks.”