I darted a glance at Chris, surprised at the suggestion. A candy cane martini sounded decadently delicious and the exact sort of cocktail I would order over the holidays.
“You can use almost the same recipe for the martini that you do for the candy corn one on Halloween, but just add a shot of peppermint schnapps instead. Then for the hot chocolate, either make it for adults with the peppermint schnapps you’re already stocking or use a peppermint simple syrup for the virgin variety. Decorate the mug and martini glass with mini candy canes, and voila. It’s cheap and effective. And if you need a supplier for either the candy canes or the hot chocolate, I think Avery could help you with that.” He glanced at me, setting the menu down. “Isn’t that right?”
“Uhhh…” I was speechless and completely impressed with how quickly he threw those ideas together. Maybe he was better at this job than I gave him credit for.
“I already have peppermint schnapps behind the bar,” Nick said, then pointed at each of us. “How about I make you one of each to see how they taste?”
I nodded. “Yeah… um, that would be great.”
“And don’t worry, I won’t forget that IPA for you. You don’t strike me as a hot chocolate kind of guy.”
Chris patted his belly… and by belly, I meant lack thereof. “Are you kidding? What is there not to love about a peppermint hot chocolate? But I’d still appreciate that IPA.”
I blinked as Nick walked away to fix our drinks and stared at Chris. “How did you… It took me years of trying to get him stock eggnog—”
“Well, that was your first mistake. Eggnog is weird. And has a texture like boogers. It’s one of those Christmas drinks that everyone thinks they should like, but only a few weirdos… i.e., you… actually like it.” I felt the heat rush to my cheeks at his playful banter and the overt way he leaned forward, his eyes trained on me.
Why the hell was I blushing? The guy just called me a weirdo, and I was acting like he just recited poetry outside my window. I responded with the first thing to come to mind. “Eggnog does not have a texture like boogers.” Yeah, good one, Avery.
“You’re right… maybe it’s just a general mucus texture.”
“Ugh.” I shoved my mug away from me, suddenly no longer interested in sipping my cup of eggnog.
“So, anyway, of course he wasn’t able to make a profit on that,” Chris continued, ignoring my roiling stomach. “Hot chocolate on the other hand? Name me one person who doesn’t love hot chocolate?”
I couldn’t. Sure, there was the occasional person who didn’t like chocolate at all… but they were rare. Unlike eggnog. Chris was right. I love eggnog, but when I added it to the StoryBook shelves, I was thinking like a customer, not a business owner. It was one of the few times I’d made that mistake.
I gritted my teeth and my stomach clenched unpleasantly.
Chris was right. I was wrong.
And I hated being wrong.
I gave a small hmmm through pursed lips and looked over at Chris. His cheeks were still red from the cold, and his lips were plump and wet as he stared back at me with those intense green eyes. My body gave a hum of approval that reminded me how damn long it had been since I’d been with a man. But as always, I pushed those feelings down, ignoring them.
“So,” I said. “These ideas you have for the store…”
His brow arched impressively over that sparkling emerald eye. “I thought I didn’t earn the right to tell you those ideas? What with that snow globe still sitting on a shelf in the store.”
I lifted my mug to my lips and paused, looking down into my booger-filled mug. I sighed and once more shoved it aside. Damn him for ruining eggnog for me. “Oh, you can tell me your ideas. I didn’t say I’d implement them.”
But I had to admit, he piqued my curiosity. “Why don’t you tell me your ideas first?” he offered.
I narrowed my gaze at him. What was his angle? He seemed totally against not only my ideas but my entire store just a few hours ago. Unlike his father, whom I’d built a trusting working relationship with for years. Jack gave me free reign over the shop. Whatever I wanted, I got—mostly. Which was why I was stuck with a fridge full of eggnog that I couldn’t sell.
I pushed that thought aside. Eggnog was my only failed idea at that store… well, eggnog and that stupid snow globe I couldn’t sell. Everything else had been a huge success. The real question was, could I trust Chris with my ideas? His dad and I were supposed to have a meeting this week, and I had planned on presenting my latest thoughts for the business then.
“Why are you so interested in my ideas now? I thought you hated my store?”
Chris sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t hate the store… it’s my family’s legacy, I couldn’t hate it even if I wanted to.”
“So then, what changed?”
“My sister,” he said.
“Mallery?”
He seemed startled at the fact that I said her name, his eyes momentarily widening. “Yes… Mallery. My dad and I… well, look, I love him, of course. But we don’t always see eye to eye. Without my mom to ground him, I think he would blow the entire budget on whims and flights of fancy.”
That wasn’t exactly how Jack struck me. But then again, I’d only been working with him a few years. He was always pretty quick to approve my ideas, but maybe it wasn’t that he trusted me so much as it was that he just enjoyed brainstorming. Crap. The reality of that made my stomach turn upside down. Maybe he didn’t believe in me at all; maybe I’d just gotten really lucky most of my ideas were profitable.
“But then Mallery told me what an asset you’ve become to the company. And well, she told me I’d be an idiot not to listen to your ideas.”
I smiled, my reservations about Jack washing away with this new information. I’d always liked Mallery. She was tough in business and very savvy, but also kind. She was the proof that you didn’t have to be one or the other in order to be successful.
I took a deep breath. I didn’t have any of my notes or slides that I’d prepared to show Jack… but I knew this idea like the back of my hand. I could do it from memory. “Well… you know how successful the Build-A-Bear franchise has been?” I waited for him to nod before I continued. “And of course, there’s Elf on the Shelf.”
Another nod, but this time, his eyes narrowed and he licked his lips before saying, “But the Elf on the Shelf books and dolls only sell once per family. They’re necessary for the store, but not necessarily our top seller.”
I held up my finger and pulled out my phone, swiping until I found Mary Stroope’s website. “This is a local children’s author here in Maple Grove. She has a best-selling Christmas book… also about Santa’s elves. I’ve had a few meetings with her where she would be open to licensing her illustrations and brand for a line of toys exclusively sold in StoryBook stores.”
Chris took my phone, swiping through the images on her website. “Go on…”
“But I want to do more than that. I think for our store… the flagship of StoryBook, we could create our own Build Your Christmas Elf stations. We would have the children fill out questionnaires and based on that, we would ‘pair them’ with different aspects of their unique elf that they would build in the store. It’s not a single elf per family… it’s an elf for each child.”