Mallery snorted. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“What? What’s so bad about that? You like being social. And you’re better at it than I am.”
“I’m only better at it because I’ve been doing it longer. If I took over Dad’s social engagements on top of handling all the marketing, I’d be doing twice the work while you were just doing your normal thing. Hell no, big brother. We’re splitting these tasks, even the social ones, so get used to it.”
She was right. It was unfair to overload Mallery with all of Dad’s duties on top of her own. But the idea of throwing the company anniversary parties and holiday parties… dressing as Santa every year—just to name a few of the public engagements—made my stomach queasy.
“Are we sure about this expansion? What if we made the new flagship store in Boston or even in Baltimore? It could become a travel destination, like FAO Schwarz in New York.”
“We’ve been over this,” Mallery sighed. “Overhead is so much higher in a city. The space would be significantly smaller. An expansion in Maple Grove makes the most sense. And we already have a manager there who is more than capable of running it without you and I being there constantly.”
Yeah, right. I guess Dad hadn’t told her about the other piece of this expansion. That he wanted me to move here for the first year. “There’s plenty of other managers who could run a store anywhere and be just as good at their job as Avery is.”
Mallery snorted a laugh. “If you really believe that, then you haven’t looked closely enough at Avery’s numbers. You could learn from her—who do you think convinced Dad to sell those old-fashioned train sets?”
No. “Avery got him on board with those?” Those train sets were always among our top five sellers every year. Kids loved them and parents loved the nostalgia of them.
“She sure did. Among a lot of other successful strategies Dad implemented through the years.”
“Why didn’t he ever give her credit?”
“He did. She was at most of the pitch meetings in Boston. He gave her raises, shares of the company. She owns a decent amount of our company, actually, all things considered. You were just never there to see it because you were handling foreign accounts, budgets, and of course, traveling. Avery isn’t just a manager. She’s a huge part of this company… and if she has ideas, you should listen to them… and her.”
My sister waved at the camera. “I love you, Chris. Even when you’re being a pompous jerk. Try to enjoy the quieter life while you’re there in Maple Grove.” She winked and blew me a kiss before signing off.
Well, damn. That was not the phone call I expected to have with my sister tonight. And I certainly didn’t expect to get schooled about Avery Pinkerton.
Chapter 6
Avery
When I shoved Chris into that sweater this morning, I was only hoping to embarrass him throughout the day… not have to spend the entire evening with the guy as my partner in the contest.
I grabbed my mug of hot eggnog—a treat Nick served at the bar solely because I had begged (or rather, bugged) him for years to put it seasonally on the menu—and took a swig.
Maybe Chris wouldn’t show up tonight? Surely, he had more important things to do. Then again, if he didn’t show up, that would mean I couldn’t win the contest. And I had won for four years in a row.
The door of Nick’s Pizzeria interrupted my thoughts. It swung open and the gush of cold winter air whooshed in. Like a star taking center stage, Chris stood in the center of the doorway in all his muscular goodness, back-lit by the streetlamp as fluffy snowflakes fell in a curtain behind him. He scanned the restaurant before spotting me, closing the door and making his way over, shrugging out of his coat.
“You made it.” I surprised myself by sounding far less grumpy than I felt.
“I didn’t know it was optional.”
It wasn’t. Not if I wanted to win… and I wanted to win. I had a bit of a competitive streak in me. Just a tad.
“Do you want a beer?”
“I’m allowed to drink in this town?”
I rolled my eyes. God, he was annoying. And handsome. Yep, a handsome, annoying Grinch. “Stop asking stupid questions. Of course we have alcohol in Maple Grove. We have adults, don’t we?”
He shrugged and grabbed the menu, scanning it. “I don’t know… It just wouldn’t have surprised me if this was some sort of dry town with no alcohol allowed.”
Nick, the owner of the pizzeria, came over—a gruff man in his thirties with scruff on his jaw and lines around his eyes. He was rugged… but handsome. That kind of scary sexy that some women really like… not me, though. I much prefer traditionally handsome. But based on the way women’s eyes in the restaurant kept landing on him approvingly, I think I was in the minority for my lack of attraction to Nick. “What can I get you?”
“You got any local brews here?”
“Yep. There’s one brewery here in Maple Grove and a couple others in neighboring Lakes Region towns. Our Grove IPA is pretty killer.”
I blinked, shaking my head at Nick, wearing only his plain black t-shirt. “Nick, where’s the sweater I gave you?” I had specifically sent him an ugly sweater so he could be a part of the contest.
He hitched his thumb over his shoulder toward the counter. “I get hot when I’m working the bar. I left it back there.”
I sighed. “But now you’re disqualified from the contest!”
He leveled me with a sarcastic look. “Oh, darn.”
“You know… if you’re not careful, I’m going to stop sending you stuff all together.”
His brows raised. “You promise?”
Chris lifted a finger into the air. “Can I get in on that, too?”
I snapped a scowl in Chris’s direction, but Nick playfully jabbed me in the arm with his elbow, interrupting the staring contest I so would have won. “Drink your eggnog. I put it on the menu because you insisted it was a staple. But you’re the only person who orders the stuff.”
Chris’s face twisted. “Eggnog? Gross.”
“Right?” Nick held out a hand for Chris and they did some sort of stupid bro-code handshake thing. Ugh, men.
“Gross?” I threw my hands in the air. “It’s delicious. I can’t help that you two are Mr. Scrooge and the Grinch.” I should have known they would hit it off.
“The numbers don’t lie, sweetheart,” Nick said. “I end up throwing out batches that have gone bad because no one buys them.”
I sighed, slouching in my chair. Fine, maybe eggnog was an acquired taste. I had to admit, the make-it-yourself kits I sell in my store weren’t exactly flying off the shelves, either. “If you discontinue it from the menu, will you promise me you’ll add something with a holiday flare?”
“Like what?” Nick said. “I already offer the pumpkin pie and candy corn martinis during October and November.”
Chris looked up from where he was scouring the menu. “How about adding a candy cane martini and a peppermint hot chocolate to the menu?”