Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
My stomach sinks. I’m disappointed that he doesn’t recognize me, but it makes sense, I suppose. The last time our paths crossed, I was missing my two front teeth and wore my hair in pigtails. I was seven years old to his ten and trailed after him like an adoring puppy every time he and his brother Elliot came down the mountain to play.
He was always so kind, one of the rare “big boys” who protected the little kids instead of using us as cannon fodder. Not to mention creative and always up for a game of pretend in the bowels of the historic theater, when it got too cold to play outside. I still carry fond memories of our heroic quests to find the ring of power hidden in the massive costume storage room to this very day.
And I only know what he looks like because everyone knows what the billionaire Ratcliffe brothers look like.
Their faces are all over the news and social media, and I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve checked Luke out a few times over the years. When a girl happens to have shared a sled with one of the world’s most eligible billionaires, she likes to keep track of what that billionaire is up to—for storytelling purposes if nothing else.
It doesn’t hurt that the billionaire in question has penetrating blue eyes, perfectly wavy dark hair, and wears the hell out of a suit.
But it’s clear Luke has never done a social media deep dive on me.
Or a shallow one.
He looks thoroughly stumped.
“It’s Holly,” I say, forcing a smile. “Holly Hadley.”
More blankness, followed by a grunt.
“We used to play together when we were kids? Sledding and snowball fights? Pretending to be treasure hunters on a quest in the theater?” I pluck the red reindeer nose off my face. “Does that help?”
He grunts again. “I’m sorry. You must have me confused with someone else.”
My throat tightens with embarrassment, but I keep my smile fixed in place as I add, “No, I don’t think so, but that’s okay.” I shrug. “We all remember different things. I, for example, remember that you always made a few extra snowballs for me, so I had a fighting chance against the big kids. And I remember that time you and Elliot won the snowman decorating competition.” I laugh. “I’ll never forget how mad your maid was when she realized you’d taken your mother’s Rockette costume out of storage without permission.”
“My mother wasn’t a Rockette,” he says flatly. “She was a Vegas showgirl.”
“Oh, wow,” I say, intrigued. “Does she still live in Vegas? I’ve never been, but I’ve always wanted to go. Just to see the shows, though, I’m not much of a gambler.”
He sniffs. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen her since I was a boy.”
I cringe and hurry to apologize. “Oh. I’m so sorry, Luke. I didn’t know. That must be hard, especially at the holidays.”
He clears his throat. “Yes, well, thank you, Miss…” He sighs again. Wearily. “Sorry, what was your last name, again?”
“Hadley,” I repeat. “You really don’t remember me?” I motion toward the front of the building. “We used to go sledding down that hill right outside. You let me ride in front of you. One time, when I was maybe five or six, the steering broke and we ended up shooting straight through the—”
“As enjoyable as this has been, I have to go,” he says, cutting me off as he turns, collecting the peg leg from the floor. “My driver will be waiting.”
I blink in stunned silence as he lifts the display case’s glass top and returns the artifact to its stand. So, Luke’s become rude as an adult, as well. Rude and arrogant, with an extra helping of grumpy sauce.
Fine, let him dismiss me, but he’s not weaseling out of taking accountability for breaking and entering that easily.
Actions have consequences, and clearly Luke needs a reminder of what Silver Bell Falls is all about nearly as much as he needs to remember his manners.
“Is that right? Your getaway driver, I presume?” I challenge, a plan forming in my always fertile imagination. “I’m sure he’ll be upset when he learns the heist has failed, and you’ve left empty-handed.” I hum beneath my breath. “Never took you for a thief, but time changes people.” I sigh. “Still, it’s a shame you’ll be making an appearance in the police report in the local paper so soon after returning to town. Doubt the rest of your family will be pleased. I’ve heard they’re all very nice people and big fans of Kathy’s peppermint drizzled pretzels. She’s had to increase production by twenty percent to meet demand.”
He turns slowly to face me, his scowl frostier than ever. “The leg is back in the case. I’m leaving. You can’t prove anything.”
“No, but Greg can.”