The Christmas Compromise Read online

  “It’s me,” I said, lamely. Then I glanced down at my dark-washed jeans and high-heeled black boots. Yeah, a definite outfit change from my days at Christmas Mountain High. Dallas looked different, as well. He was still tall, toned and trim, but wisdom flashed in those caramel-brown eyes now. His dark hair was much shorter these days and he looked older, but it was definitely Dallas Parker—my older brother’s best friend, my secret childhood crush, and the man my mother blamed for our family’s greatest tragedy. “W-What are you doing here?”

  He was also the guy who had punched my boyfriend in the jaw at the end of senior year when he’d caught us making out at Kissing Bench right next to the waterfall.

  “The question is what are you doing here?” he asked, stopping inches in front of me. “Other than dropping a bottle of . . . what is that, anyway?”

  “Hair toner.” I glanced at the bottle sheepishly. Then my gaze shot to the ladder in the center of the room, which I now noticed sat beneath a light fixture. He’d changed the light bulb. That was the noise I’d heard, not that of someone I needed to douse in the eyes with toner. Wait, why was Dallas changing the light bulb in my new salon? Maybe he’d become some sort of property manager, or something. “I heard a strange noise and thought you were an intruder. I guess you were just changing the light bulb in my shop.”

  His brows rose. “Wait a minute. Did you say your shop?”

  “Yes,” I said, my voice tight since I could see surprise written on his face. Why was he so shocked? I was perfectly capable of running my own business, thank you so much. And why did his sexy vibe affect me after all this time? So infuriating. I cleared my throat, determined not to let him see how he affected me. I picked up the bottle from the floor, dropping it into a nearby garbage can. “I’m opening my own beauty salon, so I leased this space. I assume you’re the, um, property manager? Thanks for changing the light bulb for me.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, his tone suddenly condescending as he held his palms up and shook his head. “You must be in the wrong building. I’m the one who rented this place. I’m opening up a furniture store.”

  Chills vibrated through me. What the . . .?

  Visions of opening my own beauty salon evaporated before my very eyes.

  “Um, I don’t think so.” My hands thrust to my hips. “No way, you must be in the wrong place. I rented this beauty salon from Coraline of Coraline’s Classic Beauty Salon and look around you, Dallas.” I gestured wildly. “This is clearly a beauty salon, not a furniture store.”

  “I don’t see that much beauty in it, to be honest.” He looked around at the garish décor. “Those chairs are the same color as the antacid I usually drink after a plate of ‘cue and slaw. Coraline clearly wanted me to make my mark on this place.”

  I sucked in a hard breath. He wasn’t wrong with his antacid description, but those orange chairs were mine to use not his. “Let me worry about the color of my chairs.”

  “They aren’t your chairs, Morgan. I rented this business space, not you.”

  I choked and grabbed the purse I’d dropped on a small counter next to one of the antacid-colored chairs. I dug around in it. “You must’ve had too much beer with your ‘cue and slaw, Dallas. You didn’t rent this place. See, I have the lease right here.”

  “Let me read that.” He took the papers I thrust at him, his fingers brushing against mine and sending tingles up my arm. His gaze met mine as a shiver rolled through me that I hoped with every fiber of my being he didn’t notice. The corner of his mouth hitched up. “Missed me, huh?”

  “You wish,” I said, kicking myself for not having a better retort. Whatever. Anyone with eyes could tell the man was attractive. Not my body’s fault for reacting that way. Not like I was going to throw my arms around him and kiss him.

  Although the thought wasn’t exactly unpleasant. . . .

  “Maybe I do wish.” His gaze simmered as I glared at him, but this only seemed to make him more amused. Finally, he unfolded the pages and scanned them. His forehead creased. Then he handed me my papers and dug around in his back pocket. “Check this out.”

  “What?” I asked, making sure not to let my fingers graze his as I took the papers from him. I skimmed through quickly, my heart sinking with every word. The address was correct. The dates were correct. Which meant we’d both rented the same place from Coraline. “This isn’t possible.”

  “It’s clearly possible.” He shrugged and then sauntered over to a shelf sitting on the floor and resting against the wall. He picked up a hammer and began banging nails into the wood.

  Was he seriously decorating my salon?

  “Stop that,” I said, marching up to him. “You can’t put that shelf up in my salon.”

  “It’s my furniture store,” he retorted between hammer blows. “Look, I don’t know what happened here, but my store opens in two and a half weeks and it’s going to take a lot of work to get it done.”

  “My salon opens then, too,” I said, my heart sinking. I tapped my toe against the floor as he finished hanging the shelf on the wall. “Fine, I’ll use that shelf to display products. Hair gel and shampoo and conditioner.”

  “I’m confused.” He turned to face me, the corner of his mouth lifting. “How exactly are you opening a beauty salon? Didn’t you go to school for accounting?”

  Yikes! I’d been back in Christmas Mountain for all of half an hour and I was already being asked the questions I dreaded most. Wait. He knew what I’d majored in? My heart fluttered in my chest. I’d be lying if I denied the massive crush I’d had on him most of my teenage years. But I was a grown woman now and his sexy smile wouldn’t work on me.

  I crossed my arms. “Yes, so?”

  His eyebrows rose. “Why are you opening a beauty salon if you got a degree in accounting?”

  “I . . .” I dragged in a breath and then sighed. “None of your business. Okay?”

  “I don’t have time for this.” He blew out a breath and turned away again. I couldn’t help noticing how well his jeans fit. He bent over to pick up another shelf and I lost my breath. The ring of the hammer against a nail snapped me back to my senses.

  “Stop hammering,” I said, my fists balling at my sides. “This is my life you’re playing with. My salon opens on the eighteenth of December. I’ve already paid for advertising and everything.”

  He set the hammer aside. “It’s money I can’t afford to lose either.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I said, racking my brain. “I mean, clearly I need this particular space more than you do. This doesn’t look anything like a furniture store. And since when did you get into furniture? I heard you were in the military.”

  Oh, no. His sexy smirk was back.

  “You’ve been checking up on me, Morgan?”

  I spluttered. “No. Of course not.”

  He gave me a wicked grin. “You sure? It sounds like you’re carrying a torch for me.”

  “The only thing I’ve been carrying for you is toner, which I’d planned to throw in your face. I obviously should’ve done that. You’re . . . a menace.”

  His brows came together. “Name one time I was a menace.”

  “How about the time you punched my boyfriend in the face?” I blurted.

  He paused a moment and then shrugged. “He deserved it.”

  My jaw dropped open. “Tom was a straight-A student, a good athlete, and the entire town liked him. Maybe you were jealous.”

  He didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by my accusation. In fact, he looked amused. “Would you have liked it if I’d been jealous?”

  “No, of course not.” Well, maybe a little.

  “I’d like to say this has been fun, but the scowl on your face tells me you don’t feel the same way. But I can’t afford to delay fixing up my furniture store. So, you’ll have to scowl at me while I work.”

  “You’re impossible,” I said, as he turned his back to me again. What was he doing opening a furniture store, anyway? Well, that actuall
y did make sense considering he and most of the men in his family had worked in the sawmill until that terrible incident happened with his uncle. I pushed that out of my mind, though. “You can’t open your furniture store here.”

  He faced me again, letting out an audible breath.

  “Well?” I asked. Then we stood there staring at each other for what had to be several minutes. I wasn’t going to budge on my dream, but I was beginning to feel exhausted.

  “It’s late.” He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and checked the time. “But this is Coraline’s mix-up, so we’d better just call her and she can sort this out.”

  “Good idea.” I hoped she’d side with me once she realized the mistake. Taking the lead so she’d hear my voice first, I whipped out my own cell phone, tapped on her phone number, and then turned on the speaker. The phone rang and I held my breath as we waited for her to pick up.

  A click sounded. “This is Coraline. I’m sorry I can’t take your call, but I’m retired now and on the adventure of a lifetime. An African safari. Feel free to leave a message. I’ll be back in town Christmas Eve. Cheers!”

  This was not good.

  I glanced at Dallas. He looked back at me.

  “There has to be some solution here,” I said, biting my lip.

  He raked his hand through his hair. “I can think of one.”

  “You’re willing to concede and leave me to my salon?” I laced my hands in prayer position, put on my cutest smile, and nodded my head causing my hair to fall against my cheek.

  “Not going to happen.” He shook his head, reaching out and tucking my hair behind my ear. His fingers grazed my jawline, leaving a wake of tingles along my sensitive skin. Then the corners of his mouth curved upward. “We’re going to have to compromise and share the space for now.”

  “We are?” I asked, watching him nod. I wanted to disagree, but with Coraline gone until Christmas Eve the obvious solution was to open our businesses together. I’d just have to ignore his sexy smile and make some rules, like no tucking my hair behind my ear.

  Then on Christmas Eve, one of us would get the boot.

  Chapter Two

  I left the salon late that evening and then drove through a set of stone gates and up a short hill to the address of Ruby’s townhome. I parked in front of a brick building with white windows that overlooked a small, snow-filled front yard. After that encounter with Dallas, I needed a friendly face.

  I’d no sooner cut off the engine than the townhome’s front door flew open and Ruby Curtis came running out. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a high ponytail and she wore a blue sweater, jeans, and boots. Her pretty face and blue eyes lit up as she hurried to where I was getting out of the driver’s side and then pulled me into a welcoming hug.

  Ruby and I had been friends since elementary school. She was just as dear to me as my besties from the choir team with whom I’d exchanged the bff bracelets. Ruby had been two years ahead of us in school and had been in Dallas and my brother Connor’s grade. Her parents, Randall and Betty Curtis, owned the Sugar Plum Inn—a bed and breakfast near the Falls, which had been around forever.

  Ruby’s parents’ first real date was to The Nutcracker ballet and her mom loved the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. Since that night, her dad nicknamed his wife his “sugar plum fairy” and insisted on the name for the inn. So sweet.

  “You’re finally here!” Ruby squealed into my ear. “I was getting worried, but figured you’d stopped off to see your folks.”

  “Actually, I stopped by the salon,” I said, hugging her hard as a feeling of dread fell over me from thinking about the lease mix-up with Dallas. I fought to shake it off.

  Ruby released me and we stood there smiling at each other. Finally, she reached for the bag I held. “Let me help you with that . . . wow.” She gestured toward my SUV and the stacks of boxes inside. “You fit all of that in there?”

  I gave her a rueful grin. “Yeah, I’m terrified that if I remove one thing then all of my stuff will come flying out.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “Like that time we opened the closet door in the prop room at Christmas Mountain High?”

  “I’ve missed you.” I laughed at her story and hugged her again. “And I remember how we almost quit the drama club over the chaos caused by that prop room closet. Nothing like getting buried in an avalanche of wigs and old makeup.”

  Ruby squeezed me back. “It’s good to have you home again. I worried we’d never get you out of Florida. Although I did have a fun time visiting you there.” She stepped back, her gaze scanning me. “Those boots are gorgeous and you look amazing. Nobody’s going to recognize you from your high school days.”

  “I’m looking forward to catching up with old friends,” I said, wondering what they would think of my new look. When I’d left Christmas Mountain, I’d been doing my best to live up to the perfect good girl image and expectations my mom had for me. It had been all plaid skirts, pressed white blouses, and headbands. I never would’ve worn black boots with a heel, tight jeans, or the now-standard pop of fuchsia on my lips. “How are your parents doing?” I asked.

  “Same as always. They eat, sleep, and breathe the inn. Bookings have been slower these days due to the decrease in tourism, but the bed and breakfast is doing well enough.”

  “Glad to hear it,” I said, my stomach growling. My cheeks heated and I put a hand over my belly. “Sorry, I forgot to stop for dinner.”

  She chewed at her bottom lip. “Maybe we should relax before unpacking then. Want a sandwich?”

  “Yes, please,” I said, following Ruby inside her townhome.

  The kitchen and living room were an open concept and Ruby’s personality was stamped everywhere. Vases on small tables held fresh flowers. There were antique rugs on the hardwood floors. Paintings of mountains hung on the walls next to those incredible windows. The kitchen countertops were granite, accented by a subway tile backsplash and stainless steel appliances.

  Ruby went to the stovetop. “I’d just finished making this grilled cheese when you pulled up. We can split it. You still like tomato basil soup, I hope?”

  “I do.” I smiled, loving that my friend knew me so well.

  “Would you like some iced tea?”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Is it sweet?”

  “Oh, no.” She paused in the act of ladling soup from the stove into oversized bowls that I recognized as her grandmother’s Spode. “I forgot you’re a Southerner.”

  I blinked at her. “Come again?”

  “You lived in the South, so you probably don’t drink plain iced tea anymore.”

  “I love iced tea,” I said, dropping onto a barstool.

  She set a steaming bowl and a plate on the counter in front of me. “Not that Florida is totally the South. It’s Florida.”

  I groaned inwardly. The argument over whether or not Florida’s part of the South had been raging for decades. “Either way, I still drink plain, unsweetened iced tea.”

  “Good,” she said, hurrying to the fridge and pulling out a white pitcher. She filled two glasses with ice, poured our tea, and then took a seat next to me.

  I scooped up a spoonful of soup, which smelled delicious. “Mmm.”

  “Made it from scratch,” she said, fiddling with her napkin for a minute. “You tell your mom about the salon yet?”

  I shifted on the stool. “Um . . .”

  She sighed, spooning up some soup. “Morgan, she’s going to be hurt that you didn’t tell her.”

  “I’m trying to avoid her getting hurt.” I squirmed. I hadn’t told my parents I was moving in with Ruby, either, but that was the least of what they would be upset about. “You know how controlling my mom can be. I think she’ll take the news better if I get the salon set up first in a way she’d approve of.” I sighed. “She might talk me out of my dream if I’m not careful to present it the right way at the right time.”

  My friend gave me a sympathetic smile. “Your secret is always safe with me.�
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  “Thanks.” I sipped the iced tea, wanting to change the subject. “Unfortunately, I have bigger worries right now than my mom being upset with me.”

  “Like what?” she asked.

  I swallowed a bite of sandwich. “You won’t believe what happened when I stopped by to check out the business space I rented.”

  She dipped her spoon into the bowl. “Don’t tell me the ceiling caved in. That place has been empty for months.”

  “Worse,” I said, dabbing my mouth with the napkin.

  “What’s worse than a caved-in ceiling?”

  “Dallas Parker,” I said, flatly.

  She choked on the tea she’d been drinking. “Sorry, not what I’d been expecting you to say. Dallas, huh? What gives? I knew he’d moved back in town, but I haven’t seen him.”

  I lifted the spoon for my soup and groaned. “He has a lease for the same business space I rented for my beauty salon.”

  She blinked. “I’m confused.”

  “Me, too.” I stirred my soup slowly. “It turns out that Coraline, the landlady, somehow made a mistake and rented the business space to both of us.”

  Ruby gripped the edge of the island like she was afraid she’d topple off the stool otherwise. “She rented the same space to both of you? No way.”

  “Yes way.” I nodded, scooping up more of the delicious soup.

  She shook her head. “What on earth could Dallas possibly want with a beauty salon?”

  “His plan is to turn Coraline’s Classic Beauty Salon into a furniture store.” I squeezed the spoon in my hand and then tapped it relentlessly against the counter with a tink-tink-tink. “Can you believe he won’t give up the business space? I thought he’d joined the Marines.”

  “Don’t take your frustration out on the silverware.” She took the spoon from me, set it down on the countertop, and patted the handle. “See? All better now.”

  I threw her a look. “You’re not helping.”