A Cinderella Story: Maid Under the Mistletoe / My Fair Billionaire / Second Chance with the CEO

“Because kids wait so well,” Deb said with a snort of laughter.

“You’re not helping.”

“Have a brownie. That’s the kind of help you need.”

“Sold.” Joy leaned in and grabbed one of the tiny brownies that was no more than two bites of chocolate heaven.

The brownies, along with miniature lemon meringue pies, tiny chocolate chip cookies and miniscule Napoleons, would be filling the glass cases at Nibbles by this afternoon. The restaurant had been open for only a couple of years, but it had been a hit from the first day. Who wouldn’t love going for lunch where you could try four or five different types of sandwiches—none of them bigger than a bite or two? Gourmet flavors, a fun atmosphere and desserts that could bring a grown woman to tears of joy, Nibbles had it all.

“Oh, God, this should be illegal,” Joy said around a mouthful of amazing brownie.

“Ah, then I couldn’t sell them.” Deb swirled white chocolate on a few more of the brownies. “So, how’s it going up there with the Old Man of the Mountain?”

“He’s not old.”

“No kidding.” Deb grinned. “I saw him sneaking into the gallery last summer, and I couldn’t believe it. It was like catching a glimpse of a unicorn. A gorgeous unicorn, I’ve got to say.”

Joy took another brownie and bit into it. Gorgeous covered it. Of course, there was also intriguing, desirable, fascinating, and as yummy as this brownie. “Yeah, he is.”

“Still.” Deb looked up at Joy. “Could he be more antisocial? I mean, I get why and all, but aren’t you going nuts up there with no one to talk to?”

“I talk to him,” Joy argued.

“Yes, but does he talk back?”

“Not really, though in his defense, I do talk a lot.” Joy shrugged. “Maybe it’s hard for him to get a word in.”

“Not that hard for me.”

“We’re women. Nothing’s that hard for us.”

“Okay, granted.” Deb smiled, put the frosting back down and planted both hands on the counter. “But what’s really going on with you? I notice you’re awful quick to defend him. Your protective streak is coming out.”

That was the only problem with a best friend, Joy thought. Sometimes they saw too much. Deb knew that Joy hadn’t dated anyone in years. That she hadn’t had any interest in sparking a relationship—since her last one had ended so memorably. So of course she would pick up on the fact that Joy was suddenly very interested in one particular man.

“It’s nothing.”

“Sure,” Deb said with a snort of derision. “I believe that.”

“Fine, it’s something,” Joy admitted. “I’m not sure what, though.”

“But he’s so not the kind of guy I would expect you to be interested in. He’s so—cold.”

Oh, there was plenty of heat inside Sam Henry. He just kept it all tamped down. Maybe that’s what drew her to him, Joy thought. The mystery of him. Most men were fairly transparent, but Sam had hidden depths that practically demanded she unearth them. She couldn’t get the image of the shadows in his eyes out of her mind. She wanted to know why he was so shut down. Wanted to know how to open him up.

Smiling now, she said, “Holly keeps telling me he’s not mean, he’s just crabby.”

Deb laughed. “Is he?”

“Oh, definitely. But I don’t know why.”

“I might.”

“What?”

Deb sighed heavily. “Okay, I admit that when you went to stay up there, I was a little worried that maybe he was some crazed weirdo with a closet full of women’s bones or something.”

“I keep telling you, stop watching those horror movies.”

Deb grinned. “Can’t. Love ’em.” She picked up the frosting bag as if she needed to be doing something while she told the story. “Anyway, I spent a lot of time online, researching the local hermit and—”

“What?” And why hadn’t Joy done the same thing? Well, she knew why. It had felt like a major intrusion on his privacy. She’d wanted to get him to actually tell her about himself. Yet here she was now, ready to pump Deb for the information she herself hadn’t wanted to look for.

“You know he used to be a painter.”

“Yes, that much I knew.” Joy took a seat at one of the counter stools and kept her gaze fixed on Deb’s blue eyes.

“He was famous. I mean famous.” She paused for emphasis. “Then about five years ago, he just stopped painting entirely. Walked away from his career and the fame and fortune and moved to the mountains to hide out.”

“You’re not telling me anything I didn’t know so far.”

“I’m getting there.” Sighing, Deb said softly, “His wife and three-year-old son died in a car wreck five years ago.”

Joy felt as though she’d been punched in the stomach. The air left her lungs as sympathetic pain tore at her. Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to imagine that kind of hell. That kind of devastation. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah, I know,” Deb said with a wince. Laying down the pastry bag, she added, “When I found out, I felt so bad for him.”

Joy did, too. She couldn’t even conceive the level of pain Sam had experienced. Even the thought of such a loss was shattering. Remembering the darkness in his eyes, Joy’s heart hurt for him and ached to somehow ease the grief that even five years later still held him in a tight fist. Now at least she could understand a little better why he’d closed himself off from the world.

He’d hidden himself away on a mountaintop to escape the pain that was stalking him. She saw it in his eyes every time she looked at him. Those shadows that were a part of him were really just reflections of the pain that was in his heart. Of course he was still feeling the soul-crushing pain of losing his family. God, just the thought of losing Holly was enough to bring her to her knees.

Instinctively, she moved to Deb’s kitchen window and looked out at two little girls playing with a puppy. Her gaze locked on her daughter, Joy had to blink a sheen of tears from her eyes. So small. So innocent. To have that...magic winked out like a blown-out match? She couldn’t imagine it. Didn’t want to try.

“God, this explains so much,” she whispered.

Deb walked to her side. “It does. But Joy, before you start riding to the rescue, think about it. It’s been five years since he lost his family, and as far as I know, he’s never talked about it. I don’t think anyone in town even knows about his past.”

“Probably not,” she said, “unless they took the time to do an internet search on him.”

Deb winced again. “Maybe I shouldn’t have. Sort of feels like intruding on his privacy, now that I know.”

“No, I’m glad you did. Glad you told me,” Joy said, with a firm shake of her head. “I just wish I’d thought of doing it myself. Heck, I’m on the internet all the time, just working.”

“That’s why it didn’t occur to you,” Deb told her. “The internet is work for you. For the rest of us, it’s a vast pool of unsubstantiated information.”

She had a point. “Well, then I’m glad I came by today to get your updates for your website.”

As a virtual assistant, Joy designed and managed websites for most of the shops in town, plus the medical clinic, plus she worked for a few mystery authors who lived all over the country. It was the perfect job for her, since she was very good at computer programming and it allowed her to work at home and be with Holly instead of sending the little girl out to day care.