Snowed In For Christmas: A Fun Feel-Good Holiday Romance Novel - Kimberly Krey Page 0,1
and dry. He didn’t like the slight jab at his character, as merited as it might be.
His other line gave out a buzz. A quick peek at the screen showed just who was calling. “Speak of the devils,” he mumbled. “I’ve got a call coming in. Just a minute.” He tapped the screen to take the call. “Hello?”
“This is Ivy Ingles from Channel 13 calling to confirm our twelve o’clock appointment for Monday afternoon at the Front Range Survival Center.” She sounded young. And while her voice was pleasant, the polished approach made him bristle.
“I’ll be there,” he assured. “How many will be in your crew?”
“Oh, no fancy production crew this round,” she said. “Just me. The interview is to help the production team determine who will go on to the show. It won’t be aired or anything.”
Easton felt himself relax at the news. “No kidding?”
“No kidding. So you’ll be there?”
“Yeah. In fact,” he added, spinning to sit on the bed. “I’m heading out there right now.”
“Wait—this soon? The place is covered in snow, isn’t it?”
He grinned. “So?”
“So, it’s an outdoor campsite from what I understand.”
“We’ve got yurts.”
“Yurts?”
“Picture a tall, circular hut with a cone roof,” he explained.
Some paper rattling ensued. “Oh, yes. You’re the one we’re interviewing in front of one of the outdoor structures, it says. I guess that’s what they mean. Perfect.”
“I’m the one?” he echoed. “How many interviews are you doing? Don’t tell me you’re covering all fifty of the finalists.”
She chuckled, but it sounded more like a choke. “Heavens no. Most of the interviews were done earlier in the month. I’ve got just five this time. I’m headed to Arizona to get my second interview.”
“From LA?” he asked, not sure why he was curious.
“From Vegas, actually. A pro gambler,” she said.
“You don’t say? People do that for a living?”
“Apparently.”
He smiled, then remembered that he was supposed to blow the interview, not make friends with the chick interviewing him before they even had the chance to meet.
“You know,” he said, lowering his tone, “we’re supposed to see a real blizzard in the next few days. You might have to camp out in one of the yurts with me over the holiday. But don’t worry, if that happens, I’m sure I can keep you warm somehow.”
If Chantelle was listening to the call, she’d know he was trying to blow it. Easton never spoke to women in such a way.
The woman on the other end of the line cleared her throat. “Save it for the contestants, sparky,” she quipped. “I already have a plane ticket to fly home after our interview and I intend to make it there in time for Christmas Eve no matter the weather.”
Huh. Why did he like her response so much? He guessed it was because it’s just how he’d want his sister to reply if some creep was coming onto her. And he had to hand it to this Ivy chick, the play on words with the name she’d called him—his last name was Sparks, after all—showed a good amount of wit. Still, Easton had a first impression to ruin.
“Sounds like you have an in with Mother Earth, Ms. Ingles. If that’s the case, maybe it’ll be all sunshine and rainbows for you. You’ll fly out on a sunbeam, and once your plane is safely on its way, the storm will descend once more.”
The cricket worthy silence said his comment struck home.
“I’ll see you at twelve o’clock on Monday, Mr. Sparks. Goodbye.”
An odd blend of satisfaction and guilt settled over him as the line shifted back to the call with his sister.
“Was that them?” Chantelle blurted. “Was that the station?”
“Yes,” he said. “It was Ivy Ingles. She’s the one who’s going to interview me. She just finished up with some pro gambler in Vegas and now she’s headed to Arizona to interview heaven knows who.”
“Pro gambling is a thing? Huh.”
His mind drifted back to the way this Ivy put him in his place, telling him to save it for the bachelorettes. Little did she know he had no intention of getting that far.
“So she’s still planning to meet you out at the property?” his sister asked.
Easton tossed some deodorant, his toothbrush, and some toothpaste into the duffel bag next. “Yep.”
“Good. I can’t believe how well the timing worked out too. We don’t have a group in session, but you’ll be up there anyway, getting ready for the winter crew.”
“Yeah, funny how that worked,” he said, heavy on the sarcasm. Shortly after the New