Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
Rob
I stand in front of the table in my office, looking through the massive sheet of safety glass that lets me watch over the equipment bay. Right now I’m watching Whitney Forrester walk toward the door and listening to her heels click on the cement floor.
She walks as if she runs the entire world, which I didn’t realize is something I find sexy until right now.
If only she wasn’t my brother-in-law’s assistant—and presumably an employee Donovan values if he brought her here to Charming Lake.
And then there’s her attitude. Whitney’s clearly a city girl who wants nothing to do with our town, our celebration, or even the holiday in general. She’s all business and that’s definitely not my vibe.
I snort, turning away from the window as the door closes behind Whitney. I don’t think I even have a vibe anymore. The fire department, my family, and our community take up all of my time and energy. Over the last couple of years, I’ve lost interest in casual dating and hookups, but it’s hard to make space in my life for finding a woman I can share a future with.
That’s definitely not Ms. Scrooge with the leather satchel and snappy heels. She made it pretty clear she wouldn’t darken Charming Lake’s doorstep if Donovan hadn’t given her the assignment. Any effort she put in would be to please her boss and not from a sense of community or holiday spirit. Granted, it’s not her community, but she could pretend, at least.
I wait long enough for Whitney to have settled in her car and driven away before grabbing what I need and hitting the button to raise the overhead door. There’s a pickup sitting in my driveway at home, but I usually drive the red SUV I was issued when I became the fire chief because it has the lights and sirens and equipment I need to respond from anywhere.
The drive to my sister’s house involves returning the waves of almost every local I pass, either on the road or on the sidewalk, but eventually I turn onto the road that follows the lakeshore. About a mile down on the left is the house Donovan and Natalie bought and renovated.
I thought, when they bought it, Donovan would tear down the three-bedroom Cape that had been in that spot for a century and replace it with some glass and steel monstrosity. But he’d kept the original bones and lines on the exterior, other than larger windows, and stuck to cosmetic work. They’d gutted the inside, though, updating pretty much everything. But driving by and seeing the old historic lakefront property so lovingly restored was one of the reasons I’d decided Donovan Wilson wasn’t so bad for a rich guy.
When he’s not being a pain in my ass, of course.
I’m not surprised when he opens the door before I’ve even touched the doorbell. One, it might be discreet, but a top-notch security system was one of the upgrades. And two, when a man has a rambunctious child and a very pregnant wife, he doesn’t let the doorbell ring.
“Hey, come on in,” he says, stepping out of the way so I can enter.
I step out of my boots, nudging them off to the side, where there’s an existing pile of footwear. Then I drop my coat on top. There’s a coat closet, but I’m not going to be here long enough to fuss with it.
Usually my three-year-old nephew would have run into the hall and thrown himself into my knees with so much enthusiasm it literally staggers me by now. “Where’s Sam?”
“He laid down on the living room floor with a book and fell asleep. I know I should move him, but he’s so quiet and it is a really soft throw rug.”
I follow Donovan into the living room, and decline a beverage when he offers one. I point at his chest instead. “Listen. I thought you and I were good.”
“I thought so, too. Are we not good?” He shakes his head. “If we’re not, you’re the one telling your sister, and I don’t want to be in the room when you do.”
“I heard that,” Natalie calls from the hallway a few seconds before walking into the room.
I stand and lean in over her very substantial baby “bump” to kiss her cheek. “Hey, sis.”
“Why are you two not good?” She asks, lowering herself onto the couch.
“I’m not sure,” Donovan says as he sits next to her. I sink into one of the matching chairs. “Rob?”
“I’m not sure, either. You tell me what I did to you that was so bad you had to put Whitney Forrester in my life as payback.”
He stares at me for a few seconds and then laughs in my face. Nat’s laughing, too, and I might have enjoyed their amusement if it wasn’t at my expense.
“She’s intense,” Donovan admits. “But she’s excellent at her job.”
“So she said.” I snort. “More than once, I think.”
“Whitney helping you was actually my idea,” Natalie confesses, her cheeks still pink from laughing.
My own sister did this to me? “Is this because of that time I used a Sharpie to draw mustaches and beards on all your Barbie dolls?”
Donovan was sipping coffee and we both look at him as he almost chokes. He manages to swallow it without spitting it all over us, so Nat turns back to me with narrowed eyes.
“I’ll never forgive you for that,” she says. “But no. This is your first time in charge of the Christmas fair, and Whitney is excellent at managing things. Take the help, Rob.”
“This might be the first time I’ve been in charge, but I’ve been attending the thing my whole life. And I’ve actually been in on the planning for several years. I’ve got this.”
“She’ll just help you got this more efficiently,” Nat says.
Donovan clears his throat. “There’s also…well, I like Whitney and I’ve been a little worried about her. She’s very driven, which is a good thing, but I don’t think she has a lot of family. And I get the impression the holidays are hard for her. She’s very disconnected from the whole festive vibe, and I’m hoping this will help her remember work isn’t everything. Maybe because I used to be her, until I met Natalie, I see her going down that same road.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Are you implying I’m supposed to be her Jacob Marley?”
“Absolutely not,” Donovan replies. “You should definitely not sneak into Whitney’s room in the middle of the night, rattling your chains and making weird noises.”
Natalie snorts. “Way to make it awkward, honey.”
I laugh, but me sneaking into Whitney’s room in the middle of the night was a suggestion my imagination does not need. I can still see the way her hips swayed, bumping the computer bag slung from her shoulder, as she walked out of the station.
“You love the fair,” Nat says. “There’s no better person to show her just how charming Charming Lake can be at Christmastime.”
“Maybe take that up with Santa, because you’re asking for a Christmas miracle.”