Was he serious? Or was this a set up to embarrass me? He knew I didn’t like clowns … maybe there was a ton of them beyond these doors with photographers waiting to sell my picture.
When he unlocked the gate, the disintegrated handle fell off in his palm. He tossed it over his shoulder and scratched the back of the head. “Add that to the list of things I need to fix."
“Add this entire gate to the things you need to fix,” I mumbled, kicking the snow.
“That bad?”
“Worse, Chris. It’s worse.” I pinched my lips closed to keep myself from saying anything further. What he should have done when I first started was to take me on a tour of the entire resort so I could see what would and would not benefit us.
Like this.
I didn’t care what was behind these doors. It would end up being worthless and costing us more money. “I need to go.”
"Wait, no. I'm telling you. The gate is rough, but the inside isn't. I've worked hard on it, and this is where the gala is going to be, so toughen up. You need to see it too." He pushed the doors open, but they didn’t swing, they fell.
Straight to the ground. Right off the hinges.
“We’ll fix that,” he said with a cough.
“With what budget?” I asked because I knew from what I had for marketing that cash wasn’t exactly available in excess.
“This won’t need much,” he said, strolling into the dark. The grind of metal made me wince, but then a second later, the lights turned on, and what I saw made me breathless.
“Oh my God,” I said in awe. It was a skating rink made into a track, and in the back was a maze. At least, that was what I thought it was from all the sharp turns and big walls of ice. I spun around, tilting my head up to see the rounded dome refinished with steel instead of wood. Light bulbs hung on thick cords from the high ceiling, giving it a perfect romantic flare.
“Wow, color me impressed.”
“Hard not to be.” He crossed his arms and leaned against a nearby pole. “I am me, after all.”
When I had my back to him, I rolled my eyes. He was so full of himself. “What’s my budget for this? I'm already thinking of white silk drapes coming from the top of the center of the dome. White roses with gold…”
“—Woah, wait. Roses? Silk? I like it, but Melinda, the budget for this is as cheap as you can get it.”
“It’s one of the first events here, and you want it to be cheap?”
“The rest of the money is going to renovations and other projects,” he argued, stepping onto the ice with me.
I threw my hands in the air. “You know, you are infuriating.”
“Me?” he pointed to his chest. “If anyone needs a lesson on who is infuriating, it’s you. You come here, Little Miss Perfect, flirting with the entire town, and you are telling me, the owner of this place, to put money, more money than I already have into this rink?”
Flirting with people? Who are people? I slipped and almost fell but righted myself in time has I headed out of the dome, not looking at him. Why bother? "Fine. If you want it to look like a hoedown instead of a classy establishment, that's fine by me.” I stomped on the broken doors, pushing them more in the snow as I huffed and walked out.
“Stop being a brat, Melinda. You’re acting like a child,” he grabbed my arm, and the move tugged me back, and my ankle gave out. This time, I couldn’t stop falling.
Right into him.
My cheek pressed against his chest. He was warm, and he smelled good. So good. For the brief second I was against his chest, I found myself not wanting to leave. Laying my hands against each swollen pec, I pushed away, not wanting to be closer to him than I had to.
Liar.
“You’re that arrogant? Chris, you have a huge resort that you’ve poured money into, and you’re telling me, your marketing manager, that you don’t want me to put money into this? I bet if it were anyone else, you’d give them the money.”
“No, I wouldn’t. Finances are tight right now,” he seethed, his breath coming out in angry puffs, reminding me of a dragon readying itself to blow fire.
“Let’s go. I need to get home.”
“Right. You have someone waiting for you.” His shoulder slammed against mine, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he sulked toward the path that led to the lifts.
Chris Bates. I loved his ideas.
Hated him.
No, you don’t.
