A Billionaire's Holiday Love - Posey Parks Page 0,3
have more customers than I know what to do with, but the growth would allow me to hire more waitresses.”
“This is your diner?”
“Well, me and my husband’s. He mans the grill and I take care of our customers.”
I peeked over her shoulder. A tall, bulky pale man wearing a red cap over his short blond hair manned the grill in the kitchen. He barked orders to his staff.
“That’s great. I’d like to interview you later this week. If that’s ok?”
“That’s perfect. Enjoy your time with Mr. Hottie.” She darted off to speak to customers nearby before I could tell her I wasn’t enjoying myself talking to him. Or maybe I was.
“Your pie looks good.” I waved a clean fork near his plate.
“So does yours. Do you want to taste it?”
“We can taste each other’s.” I sat my saucer next to his. We sank our forks into the desserts.
I nodded my head as I savored the cinnamon apples and flaky crust.
“So good.”
He shook his head. “Yeah, that sweet potato pie is delicious.”
“Would you like to taste the cinnamon apple beer you disrespected?”
His brows lowered. “No.”
I chugged the beer. “Taste like apple cider mixed with beer. I like it. Stop being stubborn and try it.” I pushed the glass toward him.
“Fine.” He sipped the beer and peeked at me. “It’s ok. Do you always drink beer?”
“Sometimes. I drink Canyon beer, Yuengling, and Bold Rock when I want flavored beer. I wish Canyon had flavors.”
I sank my fork into the sweet potato pie. “Later tonight, I’m drinking vodka. A girl has to keep warm. What better way than with a bottle of Grey Goose.” I laughed.
“That’s where we disagree.”
“We disagree about a lot.”
“We do. But I think whiskey keeps you warmer. It heats your tummy.”
I pointed my fork in his direction. “You may be right. It’s so tough to choke down though.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Are you turning in for the night or taking in more of the stupid red and green Christmas lights around town?”
I chuckled. “Not tonight. I’m exhausted.”
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Ok.”
CHAPTER TWO
HOPE
Five minutes later, we strolled down the street.
“Where are you from?”
“Aspen.”
“The ski capital?” I smirked up at him.
He chuckled. “Yup. Guess you can say I’m accustomed to the snow.” Noah held his gloved hand out. The large snowflakes melted in his palm.
“Yeah, you are. It gets cold in South Carolina, but not below freezing.”
I scanned the strings of white lights that dressed the shop windows and brick buildings. People bundled in their coats smiled at us in passing.
“You never considered moving somewhere warmer?”
“Nope. I love Aspen.”
Hands stuffed in my pockets, I leaned in. “Are you and avid skier?”
He laughed. “No. Not everyone from Aspen skis.”
“I shouldn’t have assumed.”
Noah nudged my arm. “I’m messing with you. Of course, I’m an avid skier and snowboarder. My parents couldn’t afford the best equipment growing up. But we made do with used skis and snowboards.”
“Same for us. Claire and I wanted our own sewing machines. They couldn’t afford two, so they bought one new machine for us to share. It wasn’t the top of the line or anything, but it was a great machine to practice our skills on. I have a younger brother too. Miles’ attends Georgetown University. He’s pursuing his masters' in education. He’ll help shape the young minds of tomorrow.”
He nodded. “We need more school teachers. There aren’t enough.”
“I agree. Teachers and doctors should earn similar salaries. Their jobs are arduous.”
“I can attest to that. My elementary teachers hated me. Never a dull day for my second-grade art teacher. I poured paint in a few students' chairs at least once a week.”
“You were a little terror,” I laughed.
“That’s why I agree they should get paid a lot of money for the crap kids put them through.”
“Right.”
“When did you jump ship and become a journalist?”
“In college. I wrote a few heart breaking stories I investigated around town. Sent them in to CNN and MSNBC. When a new anchor shares your story on TV it makes you think. My journalism professor at Georgetown said I had a knack for it. That was all she wrote. I haven’t looked back.”
I halted at my truck.
“This is me. Thanks for a nice evening, Mr. Scrooge.”
He bowed. “You’re welcome, Ms. Christmas.”
We laughed.
“I’ll get your door.”
I pressed the unlock button on the alarm keypad.
“Good vehicle to have in this kind of weather.” He opened my door and I climbed inside.
“Figured, it was best to rent a truck. I didn’t want to get stuck in the snow.”
His