Dance with Me on New Year’s Eve (Love & Holidays #3)

Chapter 1

A s I arranged my hair over my cheeks to curtain my face as much as possible, I spotted his form through the corner of my eye, even through the thick, dark strands.

Jeff Chamberlain.

The bane of my existence.

Now it all made sense … Jeff’s terse email requesting that I meet with Hazel on Monday morning.

Given that I’m her assistant, not Jeff, I’d found it peculiar to hear this from him, but I tried not to worry about it.

Because thinking about him was bound to ruin my weekend, and I’d resolved on New Year’s Day to make every weekend a great one.

Reading. Watching Cast Afar reruns. Maybe even sipping a little wine or making strawberry shortcake if I felt adventurous.

Like I said, a great weekend by any standards, right? OK, maybe only by mine.

“Roxanne,” he said briskly as he came to a stop several feet in front of me, nodding slightly as his face formed his trademark frown.

A flash of long, shiny black hair caught my attention. My boss rounded the corner into the floral-themed waiting area where we stood, and she eyed my nemesis curiously. “No one calls her Roxanne.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s fine.” Roxanne was better than Ms. Swan, which he’d called me for the first two years after we met. I was 99% sure he was mocking me because my short, thick neck was nothing like a swan’s. After all, he’d decided to dislike me from our very first meeting years ago.

Jeff shook his head. “Nicknames are for family. We are hardly even colleagues, barely acquaintances.”

Flustered, I felt my cheeks redden. Still, he was right that we were barely colleagues—although we both worked for an elite lakeside resort on the edge of town, my event planning role was rather distant from his finance role within the broader corporate structure.

And unlike Jeff, I also worked for Hazel.

Hazel’s eyes danced in amusement. “I suppose you shouldn’t take offense, Roxy, as he insists on calling Mari ‘Mariana’ too, many years after she hired you two at the resort.

” She laughed, although neither Jeff nor I was smiling.

“Well, anyway, you’re about to become much more than acquaintances. You’re going to be close colleagues.”

My heart rate doubled, and I glanced at him in confusion. I doubt it was possible for his face to become stonier and his posture stiffer as he spoke. “Pardon?”

“Follow me,” Hazel said with a wave of her hand as she turned toward the dining room. “I got us the best table.”

I glared at Jeff, whose jaw clenched as we followed her past the vacant hostess station. When we stopped behind her at a dark, polished wood table by the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the icy lake, he muttered, “Hardly.”

Hazel whirled around. “You don’t like it?”

She scooted into the booth and placed her oversized red handbag on the seat next to her. After Jeff sat across from Hazel, I reluctantly sat next to him. He scooted closer to the window, and I tried to sit as far from him as possible.

“This is a business meeting, is it not?” he asked, folding his hands in front of him. When Hazel nodded, he added, “The glare and the draft near a large window are not ideal. Plus, the view may be distracting for some of us.” He shot a sideways glance at me.

Hazel’s dark eyebrows rose as she looked between us. “A distracting view? Jeff, I had no idea—”

“The lake .” He waved his hand briefly in my direction. “It’s an objectively appealing view, and some people are easily distracted. ”

I inhaled sharply as my face heated again. He was accusing me of being easily distracted? “Ah—I—” I attempted to clear my throat. “I have an excellent attention span. A neurologist once told me I—that is, I once heard … um.”

Stop, just stop talking.

Why, why would you mention a neurologist? As if they need another reason to think you’re weird!

I clutched the water glass on the table, wondering when it had gotten there as I took a long swig. I tried to think of something else to say, but I managed only a few more awkward vocal-like sounds.

“Jeff, that was unfair. I’ve known Roxy for years now—we both have! She’s not flighty or constantly distracted.” Hazel shook her head, frowning at him. “I don’t know where you got that idea.”

But I knew.

Sometimes I got flustered, or anxious, or I just … froze. Often all of the above, basically any time I was with any other person. It wasn’t distraction exactly, but I got stuck in my head, battling with my anxiety and nerves … it wasn’t that ludicrous to assume I was daydreaming.

In fact, that assumption was better than the reality, which I tried so hard to hide: the social anxiety that was debilitating at worst and humiliating at best. I sometimes feared my pitiful attempts at concealment only made it more obvious.

So this idea of me being prone to distraction? Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing. Nope, the truth was the worst thing. Sure, let them think I’m just a daydreamer.

I forced the corners of my lips into what I hoped was a polite smile and glanced at Jeff briefly, summoning my calmest voice. “It’s all right. You’re probably right, Jeff.”

His light-brown eyes settled on me, his face unreadable for a moment. I held my breath until he turned to pick up the menu in front of him.

I watched as Hazel studied the menu too. “I can never decide what to have here! So many great options. Even the steamed broccoli is divine here, somehow.” Her gaze swung to me. “Aren’t you going to order anything, Rox?”

I nodded. “I’ve been here before, so I know what to order.”

Her head tilted as she eyed me questioningly. “You always order the same thing?”

I nodded more slowly, feeling hesitant about my answer now because she was giving me that look. The one I hated . The one that said There’s something odd about you .

But I had to be honest. “I do.”

Hazel’s mouth opened and then closed. Finally, with a quick glance at Jeff, she turned back to me and shrugged. “OK, I kind of envy you. It’s so hard for me to decide because everything sounds so good. Jeff, is it the same for you?”

He snapped his menu closed. “No.”

What a strange man. Infuriating most of the time, confusing at other times.

For whatever reason, neither Hazel nor my other boss, Mariana, seemed to mind his off-putting demeanor.

But our dislike for one another had only worsened after we met.

He was cold, rude, abrupt … and I couldn’t read him. Ever.

And that was terrible for me because my overactive brain constantly tried to read people, trying to see if I was making a good impression or making an idiot of myself or acting weird or …

you know, resembling a normal, social human.

If I couldn’t read a person, then I couldn’t assess how I was doing, how soon I needed to escape, whether people noticed how nervous I was.

All the thoughts of a chronically shy and socially anxious woman, unfortunately.

When the waiter came to take orders, I was barely aware of Hazel placing an order, and then my eyes came back into focus as Jeff held up the menu and pointed to the pasta section. “Is there raw egg in the cream sauce?”

The waiter looked at the menu and then at him. “I don’t think so?”

Jeff’s angular face hardened. “If you don’t know, please find out. If there are no undercooked eggs, I’ll order that dish. Otherwise, I’ll have the grilled salmon with a Caesar salad.”

The waiter swallowed visibly and then nodded before turning to me quickly. “And you, miss?”

“I’m—uh—” I looked desperately at Hazel, who looked at me with sympathy. Pity . The worst.

I forced myself to focus on the waiter. “Salmon.”

“Soup or—”

“Salad,” I spit out as my eyes avoided the waiter’s and instead landed on a bowl of greens on a nearby table. “I mean, no, soup. Yes, soup. I want soup.”

“The soup of the day is chicken and—”

“Yeah, that.” With trembling hands, I busied myself gathering up the menus and nearly shoved them at the waiter as I felt my cheeks burn. “Thanks.”

I knew the two of them were probably staring at me because I was acting so odd. But then again, surely they’d seen me act really awkward in public before. That thought certainly didn’t make me feel better.

Quick, think of something to say. Anything to distract them from your awkwardness.

“The lake is so nice to … to see.”

I nearly face-palmed right there on the table but forced myself to look at Hazel as she smiled and attempted to rescue me. “The lake is beautiful, even when frozen. Hence my desire to sit here.”

I forced myself to take some slow, deep (but not too obvious) breaths as Hazel looked between us again and said, “So you both heard the good news about the investor for the new counseling center. Well, Jeff’s the one who shared the exciting news.

” She laughed. “So, I wanted to meet with you both and start making some plans.”

I nodded, still not sure why we were both here together but trying to be open-minded.

I knew how much this new counseling center meant to Hazel.

She was fairly well known in the self-help world as a crusader for women with body image issues through her frequent international speaking arrangements and writing, among other things.

She’d recently decided to open her own counseling center to expand her local and regional impact and to meet people face to face, which she vastly preferred as an extrovert.

Before she even told me this news, she’d already enrolled in an online master’s program and spent hours researching how to become a licensed counselor.

I was proud to work for her and, honestly, admired her even more now than before.