Christmas Crush Read online

  Christmas Crush

  MINK

  Christmas Crush

  MINK © 2021

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book only. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from MINK.

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Christmas Crush

  Chapter 1

  Knox

  Chapter 2

  Ruby

  Chapter 3

  Knox

  Chapter 4

  Ruby

  Chapter 5

  Knox

  Chapter 6

  Ruby

  Chapter 7

  Knox

  Chapter 8

  Ruby

  Chapter 9

  Knox

  Chapter 10

  Ruby

  Chapter 11

  Knox

  Chapter 12

  Ruby

  Chapter 13

  Knox

  Chapter 14

  Ruby

  Chapter 15

  Knox

  Chapter 16

  Ruby

  Chapter 17

  Knox

  Chapter 18

  Ruby

  Chapter 19

  Knox

  Chapter 20

  Ruby

  Epilogue

  Also by MINK

  About the Author

  Christmas Crush

  MINK

  Watching Ruby build a life away from Reindeer Valley hasn’t been easy, but I had to let her spread her wings and find out what she really wants. I’ve known what I wanted from the moment I saw her in high school. But I was a jerk then, someone who didn’t understand what love truly meant. Now I do.

  And now it’s time for Ruby to come home. Her grandmother’s bakery has (quite mysteriously) been overwhelmed with holiday orders over the past week, and Grams needs help. There’s only one person she can call to help, one person with the know-how to help make the mountain of Christmas cakes and cookies.

  Ruby.

  When she comes home, I’m going to show her how I’ve changed and how much she means to me. I only hope that will be enough to convince her to stay here with me in Reindeer Valley forever.

  1

  Knox

  “Thanks for all the help.” Mrs. Lane gives me a warm smile.

  “Anytime.” I adjust a few of the thermostat controls on the back of her convection oven before rolling it against the wall again.

  Her bakery smells like cinnamon and vanilla, Christmas baking in full swing.

  “There’s simply no way I can fill all my orders without that oven working. I need both full-time.” She wipes the back of her hand across her forehead, smearing some flour into her already-white hair. “And if I’m being honest, I still don’t know if I can get it all done before Christmas. The orders just won’t stop.”

  “That’s not a bad thing.” I test the controls. They’re working fine. “Let’s see if it heats.”

  “It’s not a bad thing.” She turns and looks at the stainless steel table in the middle of her bakery, every inch of it filled with cakes and cookies in various states of construction or icing. “But I think it’s finally time I hired someone on to help. The only problem is nobody has the skills I need. So much of this is taught.” She wrings her hands. “If I tried to train a new person, it would take me even longer to get everything finished.”

  “Orders have picked up that much?”

  “Knox.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know how, but I’m suddenly the busiest bakery in the world, it seems like. I’ve already filled 30 orders this morning alone. Cakes, cookie, pastries—you name it.”

  “Hmm, yeah, you do seem overwhelmed.”

  “You don’t happen to know how to bake, do you?” she asks.

  “Sorry, Mrs. Lane. I’m more of a metal and grease kind of guy.” I shrug.

  “I know.” She leans against the counter. “You’re a lifesaver when my equipment breaks. I can’t ask for more. How’s your father? I heard he’s been ill.”

  “He’s fine. Just banging around in that big old house and terrorizing the help every chance he gets. Same as always.” I check the oven once more. “It’s getting to temp properly now. You should be good to go.”

  “Thanks so much. What do I owe you?” She follows me to the front of the shop.

  “I’ll just put it on your tab.” I sidestep Olin as he walks to the counter to place a slew of new orders.

  “Hi, Olin. I’ll be right with you. More orders?” she asks somewhat incredulously.

  He nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Yes, I’ll be with you in a second. Knox, you have to let me pay you something. My tab has to be huge by now. You’ve never charged me for—”

  “No worries.” I wave her concern away. But before I push out the door, I pause.

  Olin glances at me and waits.

  I clear my throat. “Mrs. Lane?”

  “Yes?” She digs behind the counter and pulls out a worn check register. “How much?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Not that. It’s just …” My palms get sweaty, and I feel like I’m trying to kick a field goal to win a game. Not just any game, the biggest game of my life. “Wouldn’t it be great if you could get Ruby to come help out? She knows how to bake.”

  “She better. I taught her all my tricks.” She smiles. “I don’t know, Knox. She’s so busy with her job ever since she graduated college. She hasn’t even come to visit. It was like pulling teeth to get her home at all the past few years, what with her course load and everything. And now she’s in the big city.”

  “I know. But surely she’ll get some time off for the holidays? You need help, and it seems to me like Ruby is the only one who can step in for you. Especially since you keep getting so many orders.” I gesture toward Olin.

  “Twenty more.” He shrugs.

  “Twenty cakes?” Mrs. Lane’s eyes widen. “For who? There’s no way you’re eating all this. Look at you. All muscle.”

  Olin shrugs. “I have clients who love your cakes. What can I say?”

  Mrs. Lane raises a brow but readies her pen to take his order.

  I give Olin a brief nod before swinging the door open, the bell tinkling in the cold December air.

  “You know what?” Mrs. Lane calls after me.

  I turn, my breath coming out in steam as a snow flurry surrounds me. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “You’re right. I’m going to call Ruby. She needs to come home. It’s been too long. And I know our little town isn’t the fast city life, but I need help.”

  I smile and try to play off the way my heart leaps and my body heats. “She’ll come running if you say you need her. She’s a good girl, Mrs. Lane.”

  “She is.” She nods and waves me away as I let the door close.

  I stand there staring down the quaint Main Street of Reindeer Valley. A few cars pass as I wait, my heart still pounding as I think about Ruby finally coming home where she belongs.

  The bell rings behind me, and Olin steps out.

  I pull a list from my back pocket and hand it to him.

  “More?” he asks.

  “More.”

  “What are we going to do with all these cookies?” He groans.

  “Get to work.” I hitch a thumb over my shoulder and stride away, the snow swirling around a few cars as they pass. Olin goes back into the bakery, adding to his o
rder. My order.

  I smile as I pull my coat tighter around me and head for my mechanic shop. I have to get ready for Ruby, though I don’t think she’s ready for me. But once she’s here, that’s half the battle. All I have to do now is convince her to stay.

  She was meant for Reindeer Valley. And more than that, she was meant for me.

  2

  Ruby

  “Ruby, in my office.” Mr. Brooks orders as he passes by the front of my desk.

  My stomach drops. I thought he was still out of town. I've been enjoying this week without him here. Well, enjoying it more than I normally do. This place is a bit more tolerable when he’s out of the office and on one of his daddy’s yachts trying to escape the cold of the city.

  I don’t blame him. There’s something about winter in the city that doesn’t work for me. Back home in Reindeer Valley it’s much different. I actually love the winters there. The smell of snow is always in the air. As well as the sweet scent of my grandma’s baked goods. Whenever you step outside, it’s a reminder that the holidays are closing in. Just thinking about it makes me a bit homesick.

  “Ruby!” Mr. Brooks barks my name this time. I jump from my seat and scurry after him. He holds the door to his office open for me, closing it the second I cross over the threshold. “How is ‘The Dog Whisperer’ campaign going?” He motions for me to take one of the chairs in front of his desk.

  “I sent you over the final drafts last night. If Mr. Barks and you are happy with the changes I made at his request, then we should be good to go.”

  I am so ready to be done with this campaign. It’s actually the first one I’ve done all on my own. It’s more challenging for me than some of the others I’ve worked on since I’ve been at Marcel Marketing. I’m not really a dog person. They can be cute and all, but nothing beats kittens, and no one will ever convince me otherwise.

  “Right. Everything is great.” He leans up against his desk in front of me, stretching his legs all the way out until they are brushing against mine. I pull my legs back, tucking my ankles together.

  He smiles. “The holiday party. I was thinking we should go together. You’re going, right?”

  I stare at him, thinking I heard him wrong, but I know I haven’t. He’s been low-key flirting with me for awhile now. At least I think he has been. I’m not the only one he’s been doing it to either. A few of the other women in the office have mentioned his come-ons and inappropriate comments. They didn’t mince words when talking about it.

  “I’ll be going. Isn't everyone?”

  I actually hadn’t planned on going at all. The truth is, I don’t care much for anyone here. Coming from a small town, I thought everyone would be the same way they are back home: warm and welcoming. Yes, it’s silly. No, city people aren’t like that at all. It’s a completely different vibe—one I’ve had trouble adjusting to even though I’ve doggedly refused to call it quits. I wanted the big city, and now I have it. I shouldn’t be daydreaming about what life is like back in my sleepy old hometown.

  I was supposed to move away and have all these experiences. I thought I would have a different life, but at each turn, everything falls flat and has me missing home. The city is bright and has some great parts to it, but I don’t like how cutthroat people can be. Even when you try to be friendly with someone, they’re skeptical and think you are trying to steal one of their ideas or something.

  I thought everyone was crazy and way too paranoid at first. We all work for the same company. I thought we were all on a team. That was until I’d gotten a handful of my own ideas stolen right out from under me. Even Mr. Brooks had the audacity to steal one and presented it as his own.

  I wasn't super pissed about it. I was more annoyed that we all couldn’t just be a freaking team. That we couldn’t brainstorm together and share ideas. But I quickly realized that was never going to be the case.

  “You’ll be my date,” he continues, not really asking anymore. “You mentioned that you’re not going home for the holidays, so you’ll spend them with me.”

  I can’t tell if I’m having an aneurysm or if he really just said he wants me to spend my free time with him. Of all people. This guy. Gross. I open my mouth, but no words come out.

  “We’re going to make a few changes though. I’m not a fan of your suits. Do you wear them to cover the extra weight?”

  “What?” I squeak out.

  I’ve always been on the curvy side. My grandma owns a freaking bakery that I was pretty much raised inside of. If anything, I’d lost a bit of weight when I left for college. Not that I was trying to. It was the lack of my grandma's home cooking and her sweet treats that did it. But Mr. Brooks is right about one thing. I do wear suits to hide my body to a point. I thought by wearing them I’d be taken seriously, but here I am with my boss hitting on me.

  “You have nice curves. You shouldn’t hide them.” He openly runs his gaze over my body. I want to fall into a hole, and then he goes and licks his crusty lips.

  “You’re my boss.”

  “It’s fine. You’ll just need to sign some papers for HR first so there won’t be any issues.”

  I shake my head. Maybe he’s the one with the aneurysm if he thinks I’m signing anything from HR.

  “As you pointed out, Ruby, I'm your boss. You don’t get to tell me no.” He stares down at me. “Understood?”

  “Yes,” I agree because I’m the world's worst person when it comes to confrontation. I should be telling him to drop dead or something. Instead, all I can think about is saying whatever I need to to get out of his office as quickly as I can.

  “Good, you may go,” he dismisses me.

  I stand and hurry away. It’s what I do best, after all. Run. Though that hasn’t been working for me lately. Not sure it ever really has.

  I can feel his eyes on me the whole way. A few of the women in the office glare at me when they see me leave Mr. Brooks’ office. My stomach turns. I know I’m going to make myself sick over this. When I sit down at my desk, I check my phone and smile when I see I have a few missed calls from my grandma. I miss her so much.

  When I’d gone off to college, I’d picked marketing in hopes that maybe one day I could help her bakery grow, but she seems to be doing fine without me. She has never once even asked me for any tips.

  My phone vibrates in my hand, a text coming through. I’m surprised to see it’s Grandma texting me. She never texts. I wasn’t even sure she knew how.

  Grams: Come home

  I swear, somehow she always tells me what I need to hear even when I’m not asking her. I can’t argue with an order from my grandma. At least this time when I run, I have an excuse.

  3

  Knox

  I seal up the last box of sweet treats and add a large sticker with Mrs. Lane’s bakery logo on it. “Send this one to the old folks home two towns over. I think there’s a big one in Carrington Village. They’ll appreciate all the sugar.”

  Olin loads the box into the back of his delivery van. I’d purchased it just for this enterprise. After all, I couldn’t have the bakery goods being dropped off by someone in a fancy Porsche or even a Tesla. That would raise questions.

  “Once you’re done dropping off, head back and see if Mrs. Lane has any more orders filled. If she does, hit up the fire department—”

  “Already did.”

  “How about the sewing shop on Third and Chestnut? It’s full of moms and grandmas this time of year. Drop some cookies off with them.”

  “Fine.” He closes the back of the van, then leans against it. “Are you sure this is going to work?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Okay, here’s a crazy thought—” He holds his hands up, palms toward me. “Just go with me here, all right? What if—instead of ordering all these bakery treats—you just call up Ruby and tell her you—”

  “No.” I cross my arms over my chest.

  “Why not?”

  “We’ve already discussed this.” I glance up at the darkeni
ng sky. “You should get going. More snow is in the forecast.”

  “I just think that you could—”

  “Thanks, Olin.” I turn my back on him and stride into my shop.

  Greasy is sitting on top of the TransAm I work on from time to time. Mainly when I’m frustrated. It’s one of my father’s old cars. He’d gotten a wild hair back in the eighties and bought several American muscle and sports cars. The TransAm is the only one that survived.

  “This is going to work.” I pet Greasy between his fuzzy ears. His black fur is shiny, almost slick. Hence his name. It also doesn’t hurt that he hangs around my garage. Plenty of grease here to make his nickname fit.

  He butts his head against my knuckles, a light purr in his throat.

  “She’s going to come back, and then I’ll have the chance to do what I should’ve done years ago. Easy, right?”

  He gives me a love nip on the side of my wrist just as my phone starts buzzing. “I swear if this is Olin complaining again …” I glance at my screen. It’s my father calling.

  “Yes?” I answer it.

  “Have you seen my pipe?” he asks.

  “Pipe?”

  “The one with the gold lady on the round part like the figurehead on a big old whaling ship?”

  I blink. Has he finally gone completely insane? “What?”

  “A pipe!” he shouts. “For tobacco and whatnot. I need a smoke. A man’s smoke. Not some namby-pamby cigarette in some silly wrapper with a filter. No, a heavy smoke!”

  “I have no idea. Did you ask Mr. Finley?”