One Complicated Christmas Read online

  One Complicated Christmas

  Ciara Knight

  One Complicated Christmas

  Book V

  Clean and Wholesome Christmas Mountain Series

  Copyright ©2019 by Ciara Knight

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  Edited by BKR Editorial Services

  Copy Edit by Jenny Rarden

  Cover Design by Elaina Lee

  www.forthemusedesign.com

  * * *

  ****To receive a FREE starter library (Two free books) AND an alert of Ciara’s next book releases, click here to add yourself to Ciara’s Exclusive Reader group. ****

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  About the Author

  Next in the Series

  Also by Ciara Knight

  Chapter 1

  Rain hammered my umbrella, saturating my pants and my holiday spirit. The town should be sparkly white and inviting soon. It wouldn’t be long before the weather changed from rain to sleet to beautiful puffs of snow. After all, it had to be a winter wonderland to keep its logo, Make Magical Memories on the Mountain.

  Snow brought an entirely different suitcase of problems when each fleck in the sky reminded me of Seth Mason and his empty promises. If I counted all the snowflakes in the sky, it wouldn’t be enough to match how many times I think about you in one sleepless night. His words still twisted me up a year later.

  Shaking the raindrops and memories off me, I rested the brown soggy box full of holiday decorations on my hip and grabbed hold of the slippery bronze handle of the Pine Tree Lodge. The tip of the umbrella caught the door, sending it flying from my shoulder. It twirled and skated and popped inside out with the help of a wind gust.

  I had a choice: save my umbrella from slamming into my cottage at the bottom of the hill and ripping apart from the wood structure or save the Christmas decorations from ruin, but either way, my hair and makeup would be collateral damage. Today was not the day to strut into work looking like a drowned racoon wrapped in a saturated designer dress. Not when an important client was to meet me to discuss the menu for a corporate Christmas retreat.

  “Help!” I shouted to anyone in earshot.

  Margie raced over and snagged the box. She was the assistant of my dreams. “You should’ve had Hector bring this up.”

  “He didn’t answer his phone. I thought I could manage.” I yanked the door shut behind me and wilted into the wall. “Can you ask housekeeping for a towel, please?”

  Water trickled from my hairline, down my neck, and finding its final resting place in my bra. There was nothing worse than a damp bra. Ugh. I glanced out the window, catching a glimpse of my umbrella that looked like a hot-pink house swirling up in a tornado reminiscent of The Wizard of Oz. A clap of thunder sent me back a step from the window toward the roaring, stone fireplace. Nope, not going back to my cottage. Emergency makeup bag, hair in bun, and my chef coat would have to cover the damage.

  A towel was thrust into my hands. “Here you go.” Margie took a step back, but I caught her expression of terror. I didn’t need a mirror to know I looked worse than year-old fruit cake. “You’re shivering.”

  No time to worry about catching a cold, since I had four days of work to complete by this afternoon. “Any calls?”

  “Your mother’s housekeeper called. She wanted me to tell you that a woman from the club offered to set you up with her son.”

  I smacked my forehead. “Not again. The woman thinks the only way I’ll ever have real value is if I snag some rich guy to take care of me.” I looked down at my wrinkled, water-stained skirt and burst into laughter.

  “Oh my God, your mother did it. She finally broke you.” Margie shook her head. “It was only a matter of time. That woman can even make Hector squirm. And he’s ex-military.”

  “No, I just imagined my mother’s face if I walked into her precious club looking like this for a blind date. Wait, maybe that’s perfect. She’d never try to set me up again.”

  Margie laughed. “That would work, but you’d have to deal with the aftermath. Are you ready for that?”

  “No, I guess not.” I sighed and closed my eyes. “Just tell her I’m busy that night.”

  “Which night?”

  “Whichever night she wants me to go out on a blind date. I can’t handle another one of those.” I dried the back of my neck, arms, and legs. “Besides, if she can’t call me direct, then she can deal with my cryptic answers.”

  “Okay, I’ll send the word from your people to her people that you don’t want a blind date.”

  “Any date.” I held my hands toward the fire to enjoy the finger-thawing heat.

  Margie toed the edge of the hardwood floor, swishing a droplet of water around at my feet, so I bent down and wiped up the mess. “Don’t you think it’s time for you to move on? It’s been a year.”

  I smeared away the memories the holiday season brought of Seth Mason and his overzealous need to be successful. It was the most important thing in his world, more important than I could ever be to him. “I don’t want to date, that’s all. Right now, I need to stay focused on my job. That means I need to get this place ready for my appointment at two this afternoon.”

  Margie took a step away. “You mean at ten.”

  “What?”

  Margie glanced at the oversize clock hanging in the dining room. “It was moved up. I thought you knew. He’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

  I tossed the towel to Margie. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Of course.” I threw my hands up in the air but didn’t allow myself another moment to wallow. “That isn’t enough time. Can you salvage any of the decorations and put them together on the two-top table in the kitchen while I clean up and organize a few things?”

  “Yes.” She snagged the box and headed for the door. “But you sure you want Christmas decorations up? It isn’t even December first yet.

  “Yes. Apparently the client is going to host some corporate holiday party and rent out the entire lodge starting two days before Christmas.” I wrung my hair and dabbed under my eyes. “Frank said, and I quote, This is a VIP client. Don’t mess this up, or I’ll find another chef. There are fifty lined up to work here.”

  “Harsh. That job should’ve been yours. You do all of his work anyway; you should get paid to do it. I don’t know how long I can work here.”

  “Don’t say such things. Besides, I’m a chef, not a manager. You’re much more suited to that job. You can’t go anywhere. I forbid it.” I winked.

  “Go get cleaned up. I’ll decorate the table.” She scurried away through the door to the kitchen.

  I ran to my office, kicked off my shoes, snagged my makeup bag from my desk, and raced to the bathroom. The brightly lit mirrors revealed my resemblance to a pasty white, racoon-eyed, bozo doppelgänger. This w
asn’t a job for a touch-up; this was a total do-over. My mother would faint if she saw me like this. A lady should always appear to be perfect. Never show anyone a crack in your façade.

  Wash, dab dry, reapply makeup. Five minutes.

  Hair slicked back into a bun. Two minutes.

  Race to my office, remove suit jacket and cover with chef coat. Two minutes.

  Eleven minutes left.

  Perfect. Still time to decorate the mantel over the fireplace to add a hint of holiday cheer. “Margie, come help me with some decorations in the main room.” I pushed open the swinging door and hollered, but she didn’t reply. I pulled a chair from the dining room and set it in front of the mantel. The clock ticked away, so I grabbed the garland and balanced on my slippery stilettos atop the wooden chair.

  “Wow. Emma Winters even wears high heels to climb chairs in a single bound,” a deep voice boomed. That voice. Seth Mason’s voice.

  His words stole the air from my lungs, my attention, and my balance. My shoes slid to the right, and I went left, landing flat on my butt with my heel still hooked to the back of the chair.

  “No. No. No.” It couldn’t be. Not today. A rush of heat blew over my skin like a lava tsunami.

  “Are you all right? I don’t think those shoes are ideal for this kind of work,” Seth announced, as if he’d come in for a cup of coffee after a morning stroll instead of reappearing after I’d told him to go away and never return to Blacktail. Not as long as he wanted me to give up everything to be with him. “I know you always have to look perfect, but why don’t you leave your heels on the ground next time?”

  He knelt by my side and slid my foot from my shoe in a reverse Cinderella-Prince Charming move.

  His words simmered with reminders of his superior attitude, and I ignored the way his touch felt like salve on an angry wound. The way his words and his touch made me feel like I’d always been in constant battle. But there was no recovering from falling off a chair in a dress and heels at the feet of the man who stole my heart and my focus. Today was not the day I could be distracted.

  “I thought I told you to leave Pine Tree Lodge and me in peace.” I managed to roll onto my hip with my legs under me and push up to stand once more.

  “And I did, but now I’m back,” he said as if we’d parted as friends.

  I didn’t turn to face him until I took in a deep breath and smoothed my skirt. “Now isn’t a good time for you to pop back into my life. For your information, there wasn’t an expiration date on never returning here.”

  “Ms. Winters, what on earth?” Frank Tarpelo, the new GM, shouted from the front entry of the lodge. New to the lodge but not to me. A bully boy turned madman manager.

  I looked to the charismatic, dark-haired statue of distraction and then at my general manager, the polar opposite in appearance. “I’m decorating for our meeting. Don’t worry, sir. I’ll escort Mr. Mason out and finish preparing. I’ll be ready by the time our client arrives.”

  “It’s too late for that now,” Frank barked.

  I grabbed the garland, slid my shoes back on, and climbed the chair to finish what I’d started. “Don’t worry. I’ll get everything done before he arrives.”

  “As I said, you’re too late. Mr. Mason is your appointment.”

  Chapter 2

  Tall, dark, and job-ruining Seth cleared his throat. “I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding. I know Emma. We go way back.”

  A year was way back? One year and a few months ago, he swept me off my feet. One year ago, he used his feet to hightail it out of Blacktail.

  The kitchen door swung open and Margie stepped out, but instead of joining us, she faded into the wall.

  Frank pushed back the three hairs on top of his head and shifted his lower lip to the left like he did when I irritated him, which was only about every three seconds of every day. “Still, please excuse Miss Winter’s manners. We will speak about this later. For now, can I show you the rooms and amenities?”

  I had to give Frank credit. He was playing the part well. Deep inside, I knew that Frank hated entertaining the rich. He hated the rich, which is why he hated me. If only he understood I didn’t want the family fortune, only a shot at making my own way in the world.

  “I’d prefer to go over the menu plans first,” Seth said, sending Frank into an epileptic facial fit before he recovered and settled with a common frown.

  Frank straightened his suit jacket that was missing one button. “Of course. I’ll sit in on the meeting, and then I’ll escort you around.”

  Seth smirked, that sexy, silly, sensational, devious smirk. “If you don’t mind, I could really use some documentation. Could you put together the room proposal, floor plans, itemized cost list, and could you find a local company to help with excursions?”

  I thought about telling him about the Adventure Recreation company my closest friend, Ashley, had started in Christmas Mountain but decided to seal my mouth shut.

  Frank inhaled a breath that made me fear he’d pop a second button. “I can email that to you this afternoon.”

  “I’d prefer to have it printed and in my hand before I leave here today.”

  That was Seth Mason. When he made up his mind, he didn’t care if anyone was in his way.

  I dared a glance at Margie, who remained a silent bystander, not daring to insert herself. But based on her hand covering her mouth, I guessed she stifled laughter. The same laughter I would feel if it wasn’t for the fact I’d been on the other side of a dress down by Seth before.

  Frank narrowed his gaze on me. “I’ll speak with you after.”

  Seth offered an apologetic tilt of his head, but I refused to accept his broken olive branch and only addressed Frank. “Certainly, sir.” I thought about saluting, but I needed this job. I’d worked hard to make head chef at the Pine Tree Lodge.

  Once Frank was out of earshot, Margie about-faced and fled, but I still caught her laugh behind the kitchen door before it swung shut after her.

  “How do you put up with that incompetent, power-hungry man?”

  I looked at Seth, but I wouldn’t give him an entrance to discuss our past, so I batted my eyelashes. “Really? I find him hot.”

  Seth’s mouth dropped to his expensive tie.

  “Shall we?” I walked to the kitchen door and held it open. “I have a portfolio ready to share with you in the kitchen.”

  After a perplexed glance toward the hallway of Frank’s office and then at me, he recovered with a mischievous strut. “I see you’ve lowered your standards by about a hundred places since I left.”

  “You left? I hadn’t noticed.” I marched into the kitchen, letting the door go. “Don’t let that hit you on the butt on the way in.”

  “So, you want to play our reunion that way.” Seth didn’t hurry to catch me, so I had to wait for him to join me at the two-top table that Margie had decided to decorate with candles and rose pedals. Great. I looked like I was trying to romance Seth. “The door didn’t hit me in the butt because I was following your lead.”

  “My lead?” Great. He double entendred my double entendre.

  “Yes. You gave me an order, and I followed it.”

  I blinked at him. “Let’s stop playing and get to what matters to you most: business. If you only scheduled this meeting to get access to me, forget it. Pick up a phone and call me. Don’t jeopardize a job that I loved.”

  “Loved? As in past tense?” Seth quirked a brow at me. The one with the freckle dotting like an exclamation point to his brilliant frosty eyes. “If I remember correctly, you’re not good at picking up the phone when I call.”

  It had been months! No, I wouldn’t engage in this destructive conversation. “I don’t want to lose this job, okay? Fifty people are lined up to take my job at any moment.”

  “So that’s how Frank controls you.”

  “Controls me? No man controls me.” I opened the portfolio book to the front page with a little more force than I’d intended, sending the candle
swinging and causing wax to drop onto my hand.

  “You okay?” He snagged my wrist, but I yanked it away, rubbing the sting out. If I didn’t know better, I would think he cared if he hurt me. Obviously that wasn’t the case, since the minute we started getting serious, he took off.

  “You told me to leave, you know.”

  Technically that was true, but his foot was already pointed toward the door. “So, since your clients have sophisticated taste, I thought we’d start with a butter and sage turkey and a pineapple, cherry, and honey-coated ham with—”

  “No,” Seth said flatly.

  I blinked at him, trying to see if he was giving me a tough time to make a point, but based on his serious face—the one he had the night I told him that it was obvious his business meant more to him than my dreams and goals in life—I wasn’t sure.

  Steps clipped from the other side of the kitchen. The tap, clip, tap, clip could be no other person than Frank coming in from the dining room to eavesdrop. “Mr. Mason, I promise you I’ll provide anything you want.”

  “Then I want a date with you. One date for us to talk.”

  I lowered my voice so Frank wouldn’t be able to hear me. “You need to respect that I’m good at my job. If you want to have your event here, I’m the woman you want—”

  “I want a date with you for old times’ sake.”

  “Nothing’s changed,” I snapped in a whispered huff. “Please, just tell me what food you want, and I’ll make sure to have a menu for you by tomorrow.”

  “I need something fun and unique, refreshing and delicious. Something like you.” Seth slipped closer to me, cornering me between the walk-in refrigerator and the table.