Chapter Four
F or a retail shop owner , Black Friday weekend was the very best and worst of times. The best, because for some, it was when the business finally turned a profit for the year. The worst, if the ads and promotions and window display didn’t bring shoppers into the store as expected. Merry was lucky that for her it had always been the former partly because it was also the start of the holiday season, which is what “Everything Christmas,” her year-round holiday store was all about.
It was also the worst, but only because it was a madhouse the entire long weekend. This was the weekend many people liked to decorate. Trees flew out her door, fat and skinny, flocked and pre-lit, tabletop to twelve feet tall, and bags upon bags of ornaments and decorations went with them. Although her bank account was happy, her feet ached, her back hurt, and her cheeks were sore from smiling from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. for three days straight. Therefore, the Monday after Thanksgiving was a regularly scheduled, well-deserved day of recovery. And boy oh boy was she looking forward to it.
Located near Gatlinburg in the Great Smokey Mountains, Pigeon Forge was one of Tennessee’s best tourist destinations. There were great outdoor activities like hiking and camping, plus boating at nearby Douglas Lake. It was also the home of Dollywood, Dolly Parton’s own amusement park, as well as other attractions like water parks, western dinner shows, and country music theatres. But one of the main attractions was the shopping. There were rows and rows of outlet malls, and her little store was smack dab in the middle of them all.
Originally from Jacksonville, Florida, Merry picked Pigeon Forge to relocate to because of the ten million visitors that came through the area every year. Having a niche business would worry other entrepreneurs, but not Merry. She loved Christmas. Everything about it made her happy—the sights of the festive decorations, Christmas songs playing 24/7 on the radio, and the scents of the season, from evergreen to cinnamon and spices, to fresh baked goods. And while some might dispute it, for Merry, people seemed nicer during the holidays, despite the stress.
In her store, she got to experience that year-round and it never got old. It was true that the holiday rush carried her business through the leaner months, but since she’d expanded into online sales and moved to a new location, she had maintained a steady business even in the offseason. But she had to dedicate her time and attention to the peak sales season between September and January. It made her dreadfully busy this time of year, but she loved that, too.
Since inheriting her parents’ business after their deaths two years ago, she had been going nonstop. She hadn’t had many days off, let alone a vacation in all that time. The payoff was finally being able to afford her own place. No more roommates and rentals or nosy landlords for her. As a homeowner, she was now free from all those hassles.
Her day off today was out of necessity. After four months, she had to finish moving in and stop living out of boxes, especially since she was perpetually tripping over the ones in the hall. She started early and worked through lunch. By late afternoon, her progress was marked by the pile of cardboard boxes at the end of her driveway. She even hauled out some of the crap the previous owner had left in the garage.
Not having access to a truck, she called We-Haul to pick it up. She had been lucky to get the man on the phone and to find out he was available today. He said he would be by around four o’clock to haul it to the recycling center and dump.
As she dragged out another load to add to the heap by the street, she saw Reese drive up in his big four-wheel-drive truck. She waved and smiled, trying to be friendly despite his obvious animosity. He spared her a single glance which turned quickly to a frown as he passed, nothing more.
She smiled as she remembered her mother’s philosophy, “kill ’em with kindness and it will eventually pay off.” Not this time apparently.
Two months had passed since her last heated exchange with her grouchy neighbor. They’d pass in their cars and nod and wave. Mostly she did the latter. Once or twice, they’d run into each other on the sidewalk—him while jogging, her walking—and exchanged polite greetings, but that was about it. She was convinced he’d been avoiding her.
Another thing she’d noticed was the parade of floozies had slowed to a trickle. In fact, she hadn’t seen a tall, skinny model in a sports car ever since the scene on his doorstep weeks...no, months earlier. He felt the need to apologize for it, so it had clearly embarrassed him. Maybe he’d taken his bedroom activities on the road instead.
Looking at the mountain of junk and trash that sat at the end of her drive, she checked her watch, cursing softly to herself. Where was that We-Haul man? He was an hour late. Heading toward the house to call him, she heard an irritated voice call from behind her.
“Excuse me, you can’t leave this pile of crap by the curb if it’s not collection day. It’s city ordinance and a condo association violation. You’ll be fined by both.”
Turning, she saw the sexy sergeant standing at the end of her driveway, glaring at her with his hands on his hips. Pasting on a bright smile, she walked toward him. “I have a man coming by to pick it up. He’s late. I was just headed inside to call him.”
After looking at his watch, he informed her, “The landfill closes at six. Unless he gets here in the next couple of minutes, by the time he loads it up and drives out to the county dump site, they’ll be closed.”
“I’ll just run in and check on it. Thanks for the heads-up, Officer.”
“It’s Sergeant and it’s not a heads-up. It’s a warning that I will ticket you if this crap isn’t gone by six.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. It’s the law. Not to mention an eyesore for your neighbors, of which, I am one.”
“What am I supposed to do with it if he doesn’t show up?”
“Sorry, but that’s not my problem. Just have it gone by six.” With that, he turned his grouchy ass around and headed to his own condo.
“What a colossal jerk,” Merry muttered as she stomped up her driveway. “I guess southern gallantry and neighborly kindness don’t apply to hardheaded, sexy, Harley-riding assholes.”
Once inside, she slammed the door with all her might. As the loud bang echoed through the tile hallway, she paused, shocked by her own behavior. The sergeant had obviously pushed some hidden button. She never acted this way. In fact, her employees told new hires that she was the sweetest boss ever and that no one had ever seen her mad.
Half an hour later, she was pacing in her garage. Once again, she dialed and had to leave another message. She only had thirty minutes before Sergeant Sourpuss came over and ticketed her. How much would that be? Lord, she couldn’t risk a fine. She had already checked the association rules and theirs was $250. She had no idea how much his ticket would be. Drat! She’d just have to haul it back inside.
Getting into her car, she carefully backed out of her sparkling-clean garage. Today had been the first day it had been cleared out enough to park in. She’d never had a garage before and had been excited about having a warm car in the mornings and not having to scrape any more frost-covered windshields. Now, thanks to Dudley Do-Right and an unreliable haul-away business, she was going to have to junk it up all over again.
With no other choice, she began the arduous task of hauling the trash all the way back up the sloped drive and dumping it into her pristine garage. She was dropping off the first load when she heard a loud crash. Whipping around, she saw that her car, previously in her driveway, had rolled across the street and right over her personality-challenged neighbor’s mailbox. As she stood frozen in horror, she heard a door slam.
Too afraid to look but compelled to, she dared a peek. Sure enough, Sergeant Morgan was standing on his front steps with a horrified expression, which she was certain mirrored her own. Merry watched as he took in the wrecked car and mangled mailbox. When he suddenly turned and zoned in on her, brow furrowed and storm clouds rapidly gathering, she gulped.
Why did these things happen to her? Other than business luck, she had only bad luck. Murphy’s Law had always applied tenfold to her.
Taking a deep breath, she started down the drive for the umpteenth time that day.
“Do you have your keys?”
His deep voice carried easily across the street and caused a shiver of dread to run down her spine. His question halted her mid-step. She patted her pockets. Of course, she couldn’t find them. Was it possible for her to be an even bigger imbecile in front of him?
She raised a finger in his direction, silently asking for a minute then she grumbled all the way into the garage, wondering where she’d put them. After a futile search, she propped her hands on her hips and glanced around. They had to be here somewhere. She used them when she moved her car.
Maybe they were in the house. “I’m still looking,” she called as she veered off in that direction.
Reese’s voice echoed back, “Bring your driver’s license, insurance and registration, too. You’re gonna need ’em.”
She halted mid-step thinking he wouldn’t. But she hadn’t seen the lemonade-sipping charmer in months. He may have let her pay for repairs and foregone a ticket. But there was a snowball’s chance in H-E-double hockey sticks that grumpy, stickler, hard-ass Sergeant Morgan would.
***
R EESE WATCHED THE CURVY little redhead stiffen at his words then stomp into her house, slamming the door behind her. She was feisty and sassy which he found utterly appealing. He probably would have been amused by her antics if he hadn’t had a really crappy day. Now he had a mailbox to fix.
Squatting down behind her blue car, he assessed the damage. Her piece of shit Chevy was at least fifteen years old. A new mailbox would cost more than she could get for her hunk of junk. The major rust and corrosion on the body was obvious, and he saw some brown liquid dripping out from underneath. Brake fluid was his guess.
As he stood, he watched her approach, purse in hand. She was really very pretty. He liked the way her glossy reddish-blonde curls bounced around her shoulders as she walked. Appearing curvy and soft in her jeans and tight tee, he had to remind himself for the hundredth time that she was his neighbor and therefore, off-limits.
He found himself listing other reasons why she was wrong for him. First, she was too chatty, even impertinent at times. He smirked at that ridiculous reason knowing he actually liked a little piss and vinegar. Second, she was too short. Petite women were hard to talk to when you were six and a half feet tall. He always got a kink in his neck just looking into their eyes and his back hurt to think about dancing with her, let alone having sex with...
He stopped himself knowing that was a bunch of bull, too. He’d kill to have Merry’s soft curves beneath him. Better yet, with her back to the wall looking him in the eye. He’d could lift her over his head, no problem. To fuck her while standing, with or without a wall, would require little effort. He could imagine gripping handfuls of her soft bottom as he bounced her up and down on his cock, her arms and legs wrapped around him, clinging to him for support. His vivid imagination had his dick rising—as it did every time he got around her—and he had to adjust himself. This constant hard-on was becoming a painfully frequent state of affairs.
After those brief X-rated fantasies, finding other reasons why she was wrong for him became more difficult. As he looked at her dented car and his smashed mailbox, he decided she must be an airhead. She probably hadn’t used her emergency brake while parked on the sloped driveway. He didn’t date ditzy women. Deep down, he knew he was grasping at straws. There were many things about her that appealed to him, but he still thought it was safer to keep away. Just keep coming up with reasons to avoid her, Morgan. It’s for the best.
She set her bag on the trunk and dug through the mess searching for her wallet. When she found it and pulled it out, papers, receipts, and a few tampons accidentally fell out. His mouth twitched in amusement as her face flamed five shades of red. She was entertaining, if nothing else.
“Give me your keys and I’ll try to move it. You may have lost your brakes though. Something is leaking from underneath.”
She instantly scrunched up her face. “No, it’s been doing that for a few days, so it’s not from the accident.” Finding what she was looking for, she handed over the license and insurance. “My registration is in the glove box.”
He was once again stunned. “You’ve been driving around for a few days in a car that’s leaking brake fluid. Are you freaking nuts?”
“How was I supposed to know it was coming from my brakes?”
“A mechanic could have easily told you. It’s common sense to get something like that checked out.”
“It was Thanksgiving weekend and Black Friday. I didn’t have time.”
“You had time to go shopping, but not to get your car checked out?” His voice rose to a low roar and reflected his utter disbelief that she would take such a risk.
That obviously ruffled her feathers because she crossed her arms, stuck out a hip, and narrowed her eyes at him. “I wasn’t shopping,” she grated out. “I’m a small business owner and this is the busiest weekend of the year. I couldn’t afford to miss it.”
“Could you afford a hospital bill or a funeral? Not to mention repairs to my mailbox and your POS vehicle.” Not waiting for an answer, he unlocked her door and squeezed in, muttering under his breath about short people, until he found the lever to adjust the seat. He tried the ignition, giving her a fulminating glare when it didn’t turn over right away then backed up when it finally sputtered and started.
Just then, a huge truck with “We-Haul” written on the side pulled up and an old man in dirty coveralls and a long scraggly beard hopped out. He asked her, “Are you the Merry Nowl that needs some junk hauled off?”
“That’s me, but it’s Noelle. The pile is obviously right over there in my driveway.”
Reese walked up behind her at that moment, looking down at her license and the registration he’d found in her glove box. He read her name out loud then looked up at her in disbelief. “Your name is Merry Noelle? Doesn’t Noelle mean Christmas in French?”
***
T HIS WASN’T THE FIRST time she’d heard cracks about her name. She waited, knowing what was coming in 3-2-1...
Right on cue, he doubled over laughing. As before, his smiled transformed his face from surly and mean to so handsome it would tempt an angel to sin. He ruined it when he said, “You poor kid... What the hell kind of parents name their kid Merry freakin’ Christmas?”
She slapped her license, registration, and proof of insurance against his chest then spun on her heel and stormed back to her house. Once inside, she slammed the door for the second time that day.
“That infuriating, contemptuous ass!” she exclaimed, so furious she could spit. Making fun of her name had been a childhood pastime for her classmates growing up. Even some adults had teased her, but no one had ever horse laughed right in her face and insulted her parents.
Well, she wasn’t about to hang around outside and be insulted by a clod. Crossing to the front window, she watched and waited in infuriated silence as the old man loaded up her trash. She’d go back out and settle up with him when he was done. Mr. We-Haul was loading the last pile of boxes when a knock came at her front door.
She opened it to Reese Morgan’s smugly grinning face. He handed over her paperwork as well as three separate tickets. “What are all these for?”
“They’re clearly stated on the front and the fine is listed on the back. One’s for unlawful dumping. Another is for the improper operation of a vehicle causing property damage. They come to $100. The other is the condo association fine, which if you read, your agreement is $250. You need to follow those rules carefully. The association is pretty strict on enforcement and the fines are hefty.”
The old man peeked around Reese’s shoulder at that moment with more bad news. “That’s $200, Ms. Nowl.” He once again mispronounced her name as he handed over the bill. “Same day service is $150, and the landfill and recycling fee are an additional fifty bucks.” He then spit an arc of tobacco into her shrubs.
“I assume a check is okay?” she asked through gritted teeth. She wanted both of these infuriating men off her porch and out of her hair.
“Prefer cash, but if that’s all you got, I’ll take it.” He chuckled then and added, “I know where you live after all.” He elbowed Reese as if it was the funniest thing ever then grabbed his check and left.
“Is that all, Officer? I’d like to be alone to contemplate the decimation of this month’s budget.”
“Yeah, but it’s sergeant. I’m sorry this whole thing cost so much.”
“You don’t seem sorry. You look like it’s all been very entertaining. What did you do, call up the condo board president and rat me out?”
“No, Merry. I am the condo board president.”
“Wow. Mr. We Haul arrived at what? 6:02? But you felt compelled to write me up anyway. You had the power to cut me some slack on the association fees, too, but couldn’t find it inside you to do that, either. You’re really quite a jerk, aren’t you?”
“Just doing my job. I wouldn’t be if I turned a blind eye to violators. I don’t want to be accused of bending the rules for a neighbor, either. You’ll find I’m a stickler for the rules as you get to know me better.”
“I hope not.”
“You hope not what?”
“I hope I don’t get to know you better. What I know so far is plenty, thank you very
much. And to be perfectly frank, as a neighbor, you suck. Now, is that all?”
She knew she was being rude, but after spending $550 and having nothing to show for it, she wasn’t feeling very polite. Before he left, he delivered one final death blow to her dwindling bank account.
“By the way, that was brake fluid dripping from your car. They’re shot and it’s not safe to drive. I had to park it in your garage because you can’t leave it on the street. Do not attempt to drive it. I had to use the emergency brake to keep from going through the wall into your house. When you read your ticket, you’ll see I flagged your vehicle as unsafe. You’ll have to get it towed to the nearest garage and fixed before you take it on the road again.”
As tears gathered, her profits from an exhausting weekend going up in smoke in one fell swoop, she took a step back and, for the third time that day, slammed the door with a resounding thud.
***
A S HE WALKED AWAY, Reese cursed under his breath.
Seeing her struggling not to cry a second before the oak door shut in his face, he’d almost knocked and asked for the tickets back. The instinctual need to protect and rescue were compelling, but he’d tamped them down. Instead, he’d acted like an ass to keep her at arm’s length and to stop her from looking at him like she wanted to jump his bones. It was better for his sanity and his heart if she thought he was a jerk.
After the way he acted just now, that shouldn’t be a problem anymore.