Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
“Good,” Bibi says, squeezing Fable’s arm. “Then I hope you beat that Brady character in the competition.”
“You and me both,” Fable says with a confidence that impresses me.
My aunt nods with decisive satisfaction. “And frankly, all the other competitors in town. The planning committee will vote on a winner, and we need to beat everyone who dares to enter.”
Fable looks to me with amusement. “I guess it runs in the family—this competitive streak?”
“Seems it does,” I say.
Bibi smiles at Fable, then shifts her focus to me. “Make sure you sort everything out with the cabins at your property there. And your mom can meet Fable when she joins us at Christmas. I’m so glad Elizabeth’ll be done with coursework in time to come back from London.”
I wince inside. Enlisting Mac will be easy enough. But enlisting my mother? I’m not sure how to play that, or how to fake it for her. She sees through everything. But I’ll leave that decision to another day. “Yes, that’ll be great,” I say.
Bibi stands to leave, but before she goes, she turns back to me, her brow pinched. “Have you told HR?”
That nearly leaves me at a standstill. But only for a few seconds. I look to Fable once more just to make sure she wants this—this fake romance. This story we’re peddling wouldn’t work as some forbidden office romance where we’d sneak around. Since I own the team, I ought to set a good example. Follow the rules and all. While we are working on the stockings together, I’m not her direct supervisor. She reports to Sandra Clements, the VP of marketing. The employee handbook allows relationships so long as there’s no direct report line. “I was going to do that today. I can let Sandra know as well. If that works for you, Fable?”
The ball is in her court, and she slams it back with a ferocious swing and a smile. “Definitely.”
“Good. Disclosure is important, especially when you own the company. And it’s a good thing Fable is not your direct report.” With that, Bibi sails toward the outer office. But she stops short in the doorway, spins back around, and taps her emerald cap. “Told you this was my idea hat. Why don’t the two of you team up in the office door-decorating contest too? Such a cute thing for a couple to do this season.”
“I’m in,” Fable pipes up. “Fair warning though. It’s going to be the best-decorated door here at Blaine Enterprises.”
Bibi beams. “Can’t wait to see it.” She snicks the door shut.
We stare at it a moment, then Fable turns back to me, dropping her voice to a whisper as if afraid to break a spell. “Are you really okay with this?”
“The door decorating?” I ask, then shrug. “I don’t usually decorate it myself, but it’s fine. I can manage.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “Not that. Also, I’ll handle the decorating. If I leave it to you, everything will be black, navy, or steel.”
“Not true,” I protest.
But she arches a brow, looking me up and down like she’s busting me. I guess my suit is blue and the tie is gray. “Fine, you’re right.”
She nods like I told you so, and then her smile burns off, replaced by concern. “But what I meant was—are you okay with the whole thing? You’re not mad at me for saying I’m your date?”
For a moment, she sounds so vulnerable, a dramatic contrast to her fire and chaos, and I don’t make her wait for an answer. “No,” I hasten to say. I don’t want her to think for a second that I’m not absolutely okay with this. “I was actually about to ask if you wanted to be my plus one. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about when I said I needed a moment.”
Her eyes pop. “Really?”
“Yes. I didn’t want to put you on the spot by suggesting it without checking with you.”
Her hand flies to her chest. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”
“No. You read my mind, Fable. Don’t you get it?”
“I wanted to make sure,” she says.
“I’m very sure.” I put that conviction in my voice and see her shoulders relax a fraction. “And I’d very much like your ex to see how a man should treat a woman.”
Fable snorts. “Bonus points if you make him cry.”
The thought that he’d done that to her—caused her to shed tears when she shouldn’t have ever had to—sends fire rushing through my veins.
“I’ve never missed a bonus round before,” I tease, only half-joking.
“Let’s show him, then, sugar plum.” I wince at the nickname, and she laughs. “Hey, it was either that or Santa. And as a nickname, Santa was giving me a little ick.”
I chuckle but then turn serious again. I meant what I said—I’m ready for this charade, but Fable is my employee, and I need to give her an out. Not a subtle one, either, but a big red fire exit with flashing arrows and a neon sign flashing THIS WAY OUT. “But if you don’t want to, we can simply move on. There’s no pressure, and it won’t affect your job—”