Lots of Naughty & A Little Nice - Leigh Lennon

Prologue

Avery

I’m a stickler when it comes to Christmas music. I never allow it before the Thanksgiving holiday, but this year, I’ve overlooked my rule. There are still three days before Thanksgiving, and I’m enjoying a little bit of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” sludging through the snow-laced streets of Lovelace, Montana.

I have one goal in mind tonight—finding the perfect piece of art for the new home I’ll officially own on Friday. I’ve researched what I wanted, and when my eyes fell on the modern designs of a local artist, I decided to make my way downtown.

The Christmas decorations have been hung in town in the past couple of days, and I’m jovial because nothing can stop my pre-Christmas spirit. Thoughts of my sister and me making memories in our new house together have kept my sometimes Grinch-like spirits at bay.

The gallery is between the bakery I often frequent and the antique store I’ve been known to find cute items in. I’m not sure why I’ve never checked out this chic little place. My love for the old and new marry well, especially given the gem of a house I’ve found. It’s the beauty of the neighborhood and all mine—well, Whitney’s and mine.

I turn off another holiday classic, “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” as I park. The piece I’ve gone out of my way for is in the front window, calling my name. No, seriously, I hear it calling out to me—Avery, Avery. I’m worth all the money in the world because I’ll be so pretty in your new home.

Even the art knows how much it’s wanted. I’m humming to myself, overjoyed by all I have to look forward to this Christmas season. It’s the first one since losing my mom that I’m actually excited about.

I step onto the curb when a voice calls behind me. “Excuse me, miss.” When I spin around to the masculine voice, I lose my footing on a patch of ice underneath me. My ass is about to meet the concrete when the strong arms belonging to the masculine voice grabs my elbow.

“Oh, thanks so much.” I push up in my Jimmy Choos, again happy that my favorite shoes aren’t ruined. “You just saved me along with my shoes,” I tease, losing my focus when this man’s blue azure eyes meet my own emerald orbs.

“Um, you’re welcome, but I’m sorry. You can’t park here.”

He points at the sign that I can’t read because it’s facing out to the street.

“Oh, I didn’t see it. Is it handicapped?”

He looks away from me and won’t meet my gaze. And I want to meet it again because through his black-rimmed glasses, and with his baby face, I see a little scattering of gray in his beard, and I’m mesmerized by the nerd-like sexiness.

“Um, no, it says this is for the owner of the gallery. You can’t park here.”

I rub my hands together because at six in the evening in Montana so close to December, it’s downright chilly.

“Oh, are you the owner?” I ask, and I’ll apologize. Certainly he’ll allow it with the thousand dollars I’m spending on his piece of art.

“No, I’m not, but I know the owner.”

“Uh.” It’s all I can get out because I’m not sure who made him the meter maid. “Yeah, I’ll be in and out. I know what I want.”

He sidesteps me, and his hands hit his waist. This man is very serious about his parking parameters.

“Well, you’ll need to move first, and then you can run in there and buy it.”

There’s no swaying him. “Okay, let me ask you this then. Is he going to be parking here in the next five minutes?” I pull my scarf over my neck because it’s getting colder by the second. At this point, I could have bought the fucking painting.

“No, he’s in there. He was just telling me he’s tired of people taking his spot.”

I look at the picture, then back at the man blocking my way. “Oh, great, so can you please let your friend know that you’re the reason I’m not buying that picture in the window? I’m assuming he’ll love to know that you’re responsible for him losing out on a thousand dollar sale.”

I turn around this time, not at all interested in the blue azure eyes of the jackass in front of me. And I don’t have to turn on the heat because the anger flowing through me has me making up for the fact I’d been cold a couple of minutes ago. I