Love Finds You in North Pole, Alaska (4 page)

The high school kid who showed up fifteen minutes late for the scheduled appointment showed some promise, and Olive said she might just have hired him…if his mom hadn’t tagged along and recited her son’s long list of extracurricular activities. Then Buster, the town drunk, came in to say, “I might-could squeeze in a couple-few hours a day…if the li’l woman approves.” As it turned out, Olive hadn’t needed to turn Buster down
,
because the little woman
didn’t
approve.

By the end of the second week of interviews, Bryce gave some serious thought to boarding up the place and heading for Quantico. Last he heard, the Communications Specialist position the marines had dangled like a carrot was still available. Not his favorite option, but better than no options. Hard as it was to admit, working Rudolph’s beat sitting in a windowless office eight hours a day. Still, if he could figure out how to cope with the confinement of a desk in a windowless Quantico office for a couple of months, maybe he could pull in a favor from his buddy the lieutenant general and snag a choice reassignment that didn’t involve florescent lighting….

Bryce’s email program pinged, announcing an incoming message. As he spun his desk chair around to face the computer, he prepared himself for yet another disappointing want ad response. Instead, he grinned at the brief letter of introduction.

Dear Mr. Stone
, it began,
I have read with interest your listing in
The North Pole Daily Star
and would appreciate an opportunity to speak with you at your earliest convenience about the advertised management position. If, after reviewing my résumé (attached), you feel I’m qualified for the job, feel free to contact me at this email address to schedule an interview. I am available to begin work immediately and look forward to hearing from you soon
. And it was signed,
Sam Sinclair
.

“Hot dog!” Bryce exclaimed. He hastily pecked out a reply message inviting Sam to come in for an interview with Olive that very afternoon at three. If that was too last-minute, he typed, Sam could suggest a better time tomorrow. Hopefully, he thought as his forefinger mashed the S
END
button, good ol’ Sam was still at his computer and would confirm the appointment. Soon.

“Hot dog!” he repeated when, a moment later, the machine alerted him to Sam’s response:
I look forward to meeting with you today at three
. He printed out the attached pages, left a phone message for Olive that spelled out the details, and headed for his garage workshop. Though he hadn’t read Sam’s résumé, something told him the guy would be perfect for the job.

Bryce passed the time by checking every power tool on the shelves. Miraculously, none were beyond repair. A little sharpening here, a little sanding and oil there, and he could get down to the business of building one-of-a-kind furniture.

It wasn’t easy, but he made a point of staying away from Rudolph’s and finish up the interview. When he couldn’t stand the suspense a minute longer, he tidied the work bench and headed for Rudolph’s.
.
At least until four o’clock. By then, Olive would have had more than enough time to review Sam Sinclair’s résumé

“So, how’d it go?” he asked, even before the shop’s door banged closed behind him.

Wearing her usual happy grin, Olive winked. “You’ll be happy to know we’ve got a brand-new full-time manager.”

“Full-time? I though we advertised for part-time.”

“Sam was able to work a full schedule, and I thought it best. Frees you up to spend as much time as possible in your shop.”

“Starting when?”

“Eight tomorrow morning.”

He heaved a deep sigh. “That’s a relief. Thanks for handling the interview. It’s been so long since I did any real work around here that I doubt I’d know what to tell—or ask—a job candidate.”

“Well, you’re not off the hook, nephew. Not by a long shot! You’re the owner of this establishment, and that means
you’re
the one who’ll have to check on h—”

“No problem. At least you’ve spared me the monotony of being here all day, every day.”

“You’ll get your freedom
after
you’ve opened the shop tomorrow and spent the day giving Sam the nickel tour.”

“No problem,” he said again, because how long could that take? An hour? Two at most before he could return to the garage and start sketching the plans for the highboy he intended to make.

He popped a kiss to Olive’s cheek. “Thanks, old girl. You’re the best.”

“Who’re you callin’ old?” she asked, feigning a frown.

Bryce headed up the stairs to his apartment, whistling the tune to “From the Halls of Montezuma.” Something told him that tonight, he’d get the best night’s sleep he’d had in ages.

Bryce woke half an hour before the alarm was set to chime, feeling refreshed and rested. Two cups of coffee and a bowl of cereal later, he decided to pass the time before Sam was scheduled to arrive by unpacking the shipment of Santa’s elf ornaments that had been delivered yesterday. As soon as he gave the guy a quick tour of the place, he’d head for the hardware store to make a copy of the keys to the front and rear doors. And from Bryce’s point of view, that couldn’t happen fast enough.

Half an hour and four unpacked boxes later, as the clocks lining Rudolph’s shelves chimed eight times in off-key succession, a young woman entered the shop.
Whoa, is she ever easy on the eye
, Bryce thought, watching as she shook the wind damage from her mass of ebony curls. He doubted she weighed a hundred pounds, even if she hopped onto the scale carrying that enormous leather purse. For a moment, he found himself picturing the tiny waist that was sure to go with her shapely legs. He watched her glance right, then left, and when she finally spotted him behind the counter, a smile lit up her face. “We’re not officially open for another hour yet,” he said. “Can I help you?”

When she moved closer, he marveled that she did it without sounding like a horse clip-clopping across the floor, despite the heels on her tiny red shoes.

Smiling, she glanced left and right then met his eyes. “What an absolutely adorable shop!”

The music of her voice sang into his ears like a gentle lullaby, and Bryce found himself hoping Sam Sinclair wouldn’t show up on time for work. Because right now, all he wanted to do was find out more about this beauty who hadn’t even seemed to notice his eye patch.

“I’m here to see Mr. Stone?”

Grinning stupidly, Bryce wondered how she knew his name, but before he could phrase the question, she plopped her bag onto the counter with a loud
thud
and folded creamy white hands, one atop the other, over its handles.

“I’m Sam. Samantha Sinclair? Ms. Stone told me to meet her nephew here at eight….”

Bryce didn’t know how to feel. Part of him was furious with Olive for hiring a woman. If anybody knew how he felt about working so closely with a female, it should have been his aunt. Mostly, though, he was frustrated with himself, because if he’d taken time to open the attached résumé, as suggested in her cover letter, he might’ve known Sam was short for Samantha. But he’d been so eager to find somebody—anybody—to save him from working indoors that he hadn’t bothered.

Having stammered his way through an awkward introduction, Bryce was now trying his best to be polite to the ridiculously youthful-looking girl as he explained what her duties would be. But after casting a few furtive glances her way, Bryce’s appraisal confirmed his suspicions. Sam didn’t look nearly strong enough to heft cartons and boxes of Christmas stuff, let alone unpack them for display on the shelves. Even if she
could
handle the physical demands of the job, how much energy would she have left to deal with customers, order merchandise, and balance the books?

If
she could balance the books!

Olive had made her choice, and he had little choice but to respect that.

For now.

But the very first time this…this elflike creature messed up, he’d be on her like white on rice. And Olive would have to respect
that.

“So, aren’t you at all curious to know why someone with my background is interested in a job in sales?”

Bryce frowned as her voice—which he’d found so musical and appealing just minutes before—interrupted his thoughts. “Your background?”

She raised one eyebrow. “You didn’t read my résumé?”

“Nope.”

“Your aunt warned me you probably hadn’t.” Then, “I came to town to run Silver Bells. My degree is in culinary arts.”

He watched as her smile faded, as her long-lashed eyes flashed with something akin to anger.

“Seems the owner decided to give the job to his
nephew
, despite the fact that his manager sent me a detailed letter confirming the job.” She shook her head. “I take it Mr. Stubborn-and-Powerful has a lot of control here in North Pole?”

“Only in his own mind,” Bryce said, picturing Dan Brooks, his rival for as long as he could remember. With Dan’s reputation as a womanizer, it was clear the man hadn’t interviewed Sam in person. One look at her, and no way he’d have given the job to his nephew. “How long did you say you’d been in town?”

“Day before yesterday. I can’t tell you what a relief it was when you responded to my email so quickly.” Sam rolled her eyes. “My brothers gave me a month before I ran back to pick up my former—to quote them—‘East Coast pampered lifestyle.’ ” Giggling, she added, “Can you imagine what they’d have said if I told them I couldn’t last even a
day
?”

Yeah, well, we’ll see if you last a week
. Out loud he asked, “Where’s ‘home’?”

“Baltimore. Which you’d know if you’d read my résumé.”

Bryce didn’t quite know how to react to her teasing grin, so he pointed to the baseball cap hanging on the peg behind the door. “Orioles and Ravens, my two favorite teams.”

“Is that so.”

A statement, he noted, not a question. Did it mean she wasn’t a fan, or that she wasn’t interested in the fact that
he
was a fan? Not that it mattered. Bryce didn’t intend to spend any more time with this girl than was necessary. “Let me show you around before the customers start pouring in.”

“How many people come through here in a day?”

“Depends. A couple hundred during the height of the tourist season, a couple dozen when it isn’t, hardly a soul in the dead of winter.”

Sam brushed her hair back, exposing tiny ears, each with the faintest hit of a point on top. Maybe he’d suggest a uniform to attract more shoppers: green-and-white striped socks and pointy-toed shoes.

“So,” she said, “is there a formal job description that describes my duties as manager of Rudolph’s?”

“Nah. We don’t stand on formality around here.”
Chief Elf, perhaps?
he thought with a grin.
That elf costume sure would look cute on her
….

As a marine captain, Bryce had always taken the safety of the men and women under his charge very seriously, and he’d learned early on that the most efficient way to accomplish this was to separate the hard chargers from the jokers. When Sam stood toe to toe with the hard labor required to run the place, which category would she fall into?

As he tucked her purse under the counter with a quiet
oomph
, Bryce realized that if she could drag the thing around wherever she went, she just might be able to handle the rigors of the job! And he fervently hoped she would. Because the last thing he needed was to waste time introducing her to the stock and the store, only to have her turn tail and run when the going got tough…and at the height of tourist season, the going
would
get tough. The question was, did Sam have the courage to handle it? She had basically admitted that she didn’t have the guts to tell her family about the mix-up over her job at the hotel. Which made no sense, since Dan’s decision had nothing to do with her.

Or did it?

“So, why haven’t you told your family about your change of plans?” he asked, leading the way into the storeroom

When she breezed past, he caught a whiff of white orchids, his mother’s favorite scent. He hadn’t thought about that in—in—