Page 38 of Miss Christmas

If Will had been accused of being a workaholic before Scarlet had crushed his heart, he wondered what new word they’d invent for him now that he’d practically moved into his office. He tortured himself with watching her arrive to work every morning and leave from the diner every afternoon from his damn lofty window. He’d never realized he had this sadistic streak in him.

After shirking whatever pageant duties he might have had all week, tonight Will wondered if he could get away with ditching the pageant dinner. Then he swore under his breath and pulled the Knob Creek from his bottom drawer. It was dark outside, only a few snowflakes brightening the cold night sky. December twentieth.

Tomorrow was the pageant. The Regal family Christmas Eve dinner was in four short days, then Christmas.

Slamming the bottle and a shot glass onto his desktop, he wasn’t shocked to see Fran barge through his closed door.

“Want a drink?” He didn’t bother asking her why she was still around an hour after quitting time.

“Why not?” She sat in the chair in front of his desk. “Sounds like such fun. Watching a young man with everything going for him sit around drinking and feeling sorry for himself is my idea of a swell time.”

He heaved a sigh and smiled in the semi-dark room. She flicked on his desk lamp and took the shot glass that he’d filled for himself. “I think I need this more than you do.”

“What’s the matter? Don’t I pay you enough?”

She snorted and downed the shot in one smooth gulp. “You pay me more than enough. Though I probably shouldn’t have admitted that. Must be that whiskey taking effect already.” She shook her head.

Will laughed. “Then what’s the problem?” He knew she’d tell him whether he asked or not, but it was getting late and he couldn’t afford to wait while she tortured him for who knew how long. Normally he enjoyed the repartee, but he had to go to the dinner. He’d been warned. Swiping a hand over his face, he realized he should probably shave first.

“It’s sure as hell not about money. It’s about you. You’re killing me. You have everything.” She paused and sighed, raising her hands as if in defense. “Now I’m not saying you haven’t had your share of heartache, because I know you have.” She paused to rid herself of the serious thought before switching back to her merciless posture. “What I’m saying is, get over yourself, man.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Fran?” He half laughed. “Spell it out for me. Pretend I’m stupid or drunk.”

“Or both?”

“Not yet. Maybe later.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you what I think.” She took a deep breath and he withheld his eye roll lest she get sidetracked by it. “You’re an ass. You have a woman who I know for a fact you’re mad about and you’re dicking around pretending she’s not right for you.”

“What are you talking about?” He knew exactly what she was talking about.

“Scarlet. She’s perfect for you.”

Now he had no idea what she was talking about.

“How the hell do you figure that? She’s like poison. She’s adamantly independent and ruthlessly ambitious about her acting career.”

“So what? Independent people with ambition get together all the time. Haven’t you ever heard of power couples?”

“She’s not . . . interested.” He’d said it. Admitted his fear.

Fran laughed. Loud. And kept laughing for several beats before she wiped the laugh-tears from her eyes and banged her shot glass on his desk to demand a refill. He poured her another.

“Aren’t you having one? I don’t want to drink alone here,” she said.

“Don’t let me stop you. I think I need all my brain cells on full alert for this conversation. Now tell me what the hell is so funny?”

“You. You appear to be clueless. Scarlet is mad about you. She’s yours for the asking. And in my opinion, you better scoop her up before she slips away because she is going places.”

Ignoring the queasiness in his belly, he nodded. He wasn’t so sure Scarlet was mad about him—more like mad at him. Nor was he convinced she was his for the taking. But Scarlet was going places. And he wanted to go along with her.

Fran rose from her chair, downed the shot, and turned to leave.

“So I take it you have money on Scarlet in the office pool?”

She turned back and gave him a big grin. “I know a winner when I see one.” Then she walked briskly from the room as if she’d had two cups of coffee instead of two shots of whiskey.

Damn, damn, damn. He knew she was right. Not about Scarlet being his for the asking, but about him getting over himself. It was time he manned up. He needed to go for broke to find out whether he could have her.