Mistletoe Daddy. Deb Kastner

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       Chapter Two

      From the first second Jo had pounded the gavel and declared that Nick was sold to Viv, she’d been wondering if she had made an enormous mistake in bidding on him.

      Now she was sure of it.

      For one thing, Nick had stopped eating when she’d told him her plans, a chicken wing halfway to his lips. He’d actually had the nerve to gape at her like she was crazy—and then he’d practically laughed her off the community green for making the choice to buy the little barbershop. He hadn’t even bothered to ask if she had good reasons for it.

      Which she did.

      “We can start work as soon as you’re ready,” she told him, hoping for sooner rather than later. “I don’t know how much time you’re willing to give me on this project, but I’ll take whatever you offer. I’m anticipating maybe together we can do it in—what? A week? Two weeks?”

      The expression that crossed his face was indescribable. The closest thing she could come up with was that he looked like he’d just swallowed a toad. His mouth moved but no words came out.

      “What?” she asked, her guard rising. “Did I grow an extra eyeball on my chin?”

      His lips twitched. “The expression is ‘forehead.’”

      She ignored him. “Do you have a problem with my—our—new endeavor?”

      He groaned and polished off the chicken wing he’d been holding, tossing it into the bucket of empty bones. He’d eaten half the bucket when she’d first offered it to him and was now finishing it off, and that was after having eaten a full lunch and an enormous slice of pie. Hot wings as an after-dessert snack was just plain weird, as was the fact that he’d polished off almost the entire bucket of chicken literally on his own.

      And he thought she was crazy? Whatever.

      In contrast to Nick, she hadn’t eaten much at all. Her morning sickness was catching up with her. She’d thought she was over the worst of it, but she suspected her nerves weren’t helping.

      “Do I—er, we—have problems? Where do I begin?” he asked sardonically.

      “Is this too big of a challenge for you? Because if it is, tell me now. There are a few men left on the auction docket I can bid on if you think this project is more than you can handle.”

      He snorted. “I can handle it.”

      She narrowed her gaze. She’d pricked at his ego on purpose to see what he’d do. But it wasn’t an idle threat. As far as she was concerned, if he was going to be a jerk to her, she’d follow through with her words and toss him out on his elbow.

      She’d had just about enough of dealing with thickheaded men, and she definitely didn’t need his guff. She was resourceful and could always figure out another way to renovate her spa. With or without Nick McKenna. Worst-case scenario, she would hire a general contractor. Better than putting up with Nick’s less-than-stellar attitude. Talk about a glass-half-empty kind of guy.

      “If you can handle the job, then what’s the problem?” she jabbed.

      He wiped his sleeve across his chin.

      Neanderthal.

      “I’m not the one with the problem, lady, because I’m not the one who picked up a piece of property that’s bound to be more trouble than it’s worth. Remodel it in a week? Yeah, not so much.”

      “You don’t know that for sure.” Though she had a sinking feeling that he knew more about it than she did. Was one week a totally crazy estimate? She honestly had no idea how long these things usually took.

      Heat rose to her face. He must think she was a complete idiot. She wasn’t—more like a wishful thinker. Her tendency toward always believing in the best-case scenario had gotten her into trouble more times than she could count, but Nick didn’t need to know that.

      “No. I don’t.” He shook his head, his brow lowering. “But I can make an educated guess. Did you buy the shop at below market price?”

      Now, how had he guessed that? Alexis and Griff were the only ones who knew the details of her own private financial affairs.

      “I might have,” she hedged.

      He chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

      “So it’s not in as good a shape as it could be. What does that matter? When it’s finished, it’ll be amazing. You’ll see. I have an exciting vision for it.”

      She’d made her decision the moment she’d seen the cute little red storefront standing empty in the middle of Main Street, especially when she’d noticed that it used to be a barbershop, no less, right down to the now-cracked twirling peppermint sign. It was locked so she hadn’t gone in, and the windows had been too dusty to see much more than shadows inside, but СКАЧАТЬ