I left before I could say anything else, walking out into the cold December night. The frigid air was a relief after the overheated cottage.
The drive back took about twenty minutes. I spent every one questioning whether I'd just made a brilliant move or a terrible mistake.
I'd put my privacy in the hands of someone who'd already proven she couldn't be trusted with it.
But I'd also found the solution to Christmas Wishes' biggest problem. Someone who could reach every family who needed help.
Someone who owed me enough to cooperate.
Someone who was also young and beautiful and making this significantly more complicated than it needed to be.
I reached my property, sat in the truck for a moment. The land was dark except for porch lights, pristine snow covering everything, mountains rising in the distance the same way they had when I'd bought this place eighteen months ago.
My phone buzzed. A text from the number I'd just added.
Thank you again. I know you don't trust me, but I'm going to prove you can. See you tomorrow at 9 AM. - Candi
I texted back:Don't be late.
Then I walked into my workshop, flipped on the lights, and stood there surrounded by sawdust and wood and tools. The walnut dining table sat half-finished on my workbench—smooth and solid, joints fitting perfectly, a reminder that good things took time and careful work.
The charity deserved the same attention. The same patience. The same commitment to getting it right.
Even if it meant working with someone who'd destroyed my peace in thirty seconds with a smartphone camera.
I ran my hand over the wood grain, feeling the smooth surface, the craftsmanship that came from years of practice.
Just over two weeks until Christmas. Just over two weeks to find out if Candi Reed would honor our agreement or sell out the first chance she got.
Just over two weeks of working in close proximity to a beautiful young woman who was going to test every ounce of control I'd built my life on.
I'd survived worse. I'd built a billion-dollar company from nothing. I'd rebuilt my entire life in a place where no one knew me.
I could handle two weeks with an influencer if it meant giving struggling families the holiday they deserved.
Even if that influencer made me acutely aware that three years of celibacy might be affecting my judgment.
Chapter Three
Candi
Isat in my car at 8:55 AM on December 10th, gripping the steering wheel and trying to calm my nerves.
The twenty-two minute drive from the cottage had given me too much time to think. About the deal I'd made. About the ridiculously attractive silver fox who'd shown up at my door furious and threatening legal action. About the fact that I was now obligated to work closely with said silver fox who had every reason not to trust me.
