All I Want For Christmas Is You - Vi Keeland Page 0,73
tell me.” I shrug sadly.
He raises his eyebrows and sips his drink as if lost for words.
“He’s in jail.”
“You divorced him?”
“Aha.” I smile sadly. “It’s funny you know; you think you know how your life is going to turn out. But I never imagined I’d be a thirty-three-year-old divorcee; that was never even on my radar.”
He nods as if understanding.
My eyes go to him in question. “Did your life turn out to be what you thought it would be?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No.”
I wait for his reply.
“Never thought I’d be a widower.”
My face falls. “Your wife died?”
He nods.
I stare at him.
“Brain tumour, seven years ago.”
My heart drops. “I’m so sorry.”
He smiles sadly. “Me too.”
“Were you together long?”
He nods but doesn’t elaborate and I get the feeling that he doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. I change the subject. “So, what do you build?” I ask.
“Houses.”
“Tree houses?” I tease.
He chuckles. “No, not tree houses. I own my own business. I have six guys working for me.”
“How wonderful.” I smile as I think about this. “It must be so rewarding to see something that you built from the ground up come to fruition.”
“It is.” His eyes rise to mine. “What do you do?”
“I’m an acquisitions manager.”
“What does that mean?”
“I work for a large media company in New York and I buy small companies around the world for them.”
He frowns. “You travel a lot?”
“I do.” I frown as I remember Clancy. “Oh shit. She’s going to be freaking out.”
“Who is?”
“My assistant, Clancy. I have no internet on my phone, and I couldn’t check in, she’ll be worried sick.”
“You can use my phone if you want, I have coverage.”
“Would you mind?”
“Sure.” He gets up and hands me his phone and I dial her number. “Hello.” She answers.
“Clancy it’s me.”
“Oh, thank fucking God. I thought you were dead. I was about to send out a search party.”
I smile. “No, I’m fine. I did crash my car but I’m okay and the weather is horrendous so I’m staying with a ….” My eyes flick up to Jack and I pause as I try to think of the right description… a hot mountain man. “At a farmhouse; a very kind person brought me in. I just wanted you to know I’m safe and I’ll call you in the morning. You can reach me on this number.”
“Okay, great. I’m so relieved.”
“Speak tomorrow.” I hang up and pass the phone back to Jack.
“You have an assistant?” he asks.
“I have three.”
He raises his eyebrows in surprise.
“Well you have six,” I reply.
“I guess.” He sips his drink, amused. He refills our glasses.
Two hours later.
I hate to admit it, but the cranky mountain man is actually quite witty.
And dare I say it…. a little gorgeous. We’ve chatted about everything, with no real deep subject. He’s easy to talk to, and smart. A lot more intelligent than I first gave him credit for.
“Are you working tomorrow?” I ask.
“No, there’s more rain in the forecast.”
“You don’t work in the rain?”
“Depends where we are in the job. If the roof is already on, we do.”
I smile as I imagine him being all rough and rugged with a hammer. “So, what do you do for fun up here?”
He shrugs. “Not much. There’s a few bars in town.”
“Not much?” I tease. “I imagine you would have Alaskan women falling at your feet.”
He smiles bashfully. “Well……I’m a one-woman kind of man.”
What does that mean? “You don’t have a girlfriend or someone you see?”
“No. Not since….” His voice trails off.
“Not since your wife?” I frown.
“No.”
I stare at him and blink in disbelief. “I didn’t think men like you existed.”
“We do.”
The air crackles between us as we stare at each other.
“I should get you to bed.” He murmurs.
“You should,” I whisper.
He stands and picks me up and I put my arm around his neck. We walk into his bedroom and he places me down to sit on the bed. He pulls the covers back and I notice a photograph of a woman on the side table. “Is that your wife?” I ask. I pick it up.
“That’s Tara.”
She has blonde hair and is laughing, she seems kind. “She’s beautiful.” I smile.
“She is…. was.”
He opens the bottom drawer and puts her photograph in it. “About time I put that away,” he mutters to himself.
“Don’t do that,” I say as I open the drawer and pull her picture back out. I put it back on the side table. “She should always be next to you when you sleep, and when