Full Contact Decorating Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Kudos for Robin Weaver

  Full Contact Decorating

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  “Need any help?” Hunter’s voice.

  Katarina jumped, turning just in time to see him step in the mound of fermenting Caesar salad.

  Oh, comfort and joy.

  Hunter slipped, but grabbed the counter and righted his tall frame before falling. At least the lummox couldn’t sue her. “No worries. I’m fine.” He flashed that boyish grin other woman probably found endearing. She wanted to punch him in his interfering teeth.

  “Do I want to know?” he asked, looking at the fermenting lettuce.

  Katarina almost laughed. “You don’t.”

  He was already reaching for the paper holder. Two swipes with his large hands and the mess had disappeared. He walked toward her, motioning toward the cabinet beneath the sink with his head. “Trash in there?”

  She nodded, opening the door as she stepped aside. Tripp wouldn’t have known that.

  Stop comparing him to Tripp. Or vice versa.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Odd, but she couldn’t find any sarcasm in his tone. “Why are you here?”

  He shrugged. “I thought you wanted your boyfriend here.”

  “And you think he wouldn’t have come in for a drink without your presence?” The nerve of the man.

  Hunter shrugged again, increasing her stress at not being able to punch him. “I don’t know what you see in the man, but that’s beside the point.”

  “And none of your business.”

  Kudos for Robin Weaver

  A Golden Heart finalist

  Winner of the Daphne du Maurier contest

  Winner of the Write Touch contest

  Prism and Award of Excellence finalist

  Full Contact Decorating

  by

  Robin Weaver

  A Holiday in Merryvale Story

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Full Contact Decorating

  COPYRIGHT © 2015 by Sugenia R. Weaver

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Champagne Rose Edition, 2015

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0473-1

  A Holiday in Merryvale Story

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  Dedicated to Christmas tree lovers everywhere.

  Chapter One

  Carol of the Bets

  A second chance. After a year of throwing soot in her face, Fate had tossed Katarina Snodgrass a sugarplum. Finally, she had a shot at having a life.

  Katarina stared at Tripp Anthony through the window of the Brew Mistress. He was back. The soap opera star ran a hand over his blond hair as he sipped his coffee—or latte or whatever—totally oblivious to her. And to her once-in-a lifetime epiphany.

  She’d wanted Tripp back. Since she’d told him she wasn’t going to Hollywood with him after graduation, she’d gotten nothing but coal in her stocking. That mistake would be rectified. If she could win Tripp back, and regain her title as the Christmas Tree champion, maybe she could get her life back on track, too. What on track meant exactly, she didn’t know, but the nasty year she’d stumbled through needed to fade into history. She thought she’d come through the fog as a better person, and wanted to be better still, but life still wanted to run her over with a reindeer.

  Taking a deep breath, she hurried inside. “Tripp. Hi.”

  “Katarina?” He looked her up and down, in a way that clearly said any tabloid rumors about his sexuality had been blatant lies. “You look…great.”

  Had he lost his mind? She wore old jeans and an out-of-style sweater—red because Suzette wanted all Forrester Florals employees in the same color. Worse, she’d gained fifteen pounds—another reason for the jeans. Now that she was a size four, most of her clothes didn’t fit. But ever true to her motto, never let ’em see you ruffled, she flashed her best smile.

  “Thanks. You here for the annual play?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. We’re doing The Christmas Cactus this year. I’m playing Fred.”

  She blinked. “The Christmas Cactus? Is the Town Council okay with that? Merryvale has done A Christmas Carol for…well, years.” A new play meant Tripp would have to learn new lines. It would be tough to execute her get-him-back plan if he weren’t available.

  He shrugged. “The new mayor wants to switch things up. Wants to distance himself from Mayor Snod… I’m so sorry, Kat. That was insensitive.”

  Everybody knew her father had lost the election, but had Tripp heard more? Blast dear old Dad and his late-life crises. After the votes were counted, her father skipped town, gobbling up her trust fund in the process.

  Katarina had gotten one text message: I’m fine, baby girl. Call you soon.

  That was six months ago.

  Best to change the subject. “You must be happy to be back in Merryvale.”

  Instead of his trademark smile, Tripp frowned slightly. “Only it’s not the same without Suzette.”

  Suzette? Katarina’s light went out. She could almost hate Suzette again, if she didn’t love her so much. Suzette had probably saved her life, but did Tripp have to dote on her, too?

  “She’s married now, Tripp.”

  He flashed a sad little smile. “I know. Spence is a lucky guy.”

  Great Marley’s ghost. Could Tripp actually be in love with Suzette? He’d certainly spent a lot of time with her last Christmas.

  Didn’t matter. Katarina Snodgrass was not about to wimp out because Mr. Hunk-alicious still had a crush on Suzette.

  “Mind if I sit?” she asked, taking a seat before he could make an excuse. “I was hoping you could help me.”

  Tripp blinked. “Eh—”

  “I need a fourth person for my decorating team,” she said, rushing her words.

  Tripp blinked again, the same gesture that made the millions of women who watched him on Everyday Lives want to star in a sex tape with him. “You mean for the Christmas Tree Contest?”

  No, genius, for the chili cook-off.

  Katrina instantly regretted her snarky thoughts. Hadn’t she vowed to be a nicer person? And she loved Tripp. She simply nodded, trying to pull off a demure smile, although she didn’t do demure especially well.

  Tripp flashed a smile, showing off his perfect teeth and oozing with soap opera-star s
exiness. “Can’t.”

  “Okay, that… What?” Ouch.

  “Don’t go all Katarina on me.” He smiled again, this one almost playful—a quality he hadn’t possessed when they’d dated in high school. “I’d like to help, but I can’t. I’m a judge.”

  Ouch canceled. “Hmmm,” she flashed her best seductive look, one that never failed. “Does this mean you’re cavorting with the enemy?”

  She’d made him laugh. That was a start, right?

  Tripp grinned, sending a rush of oh-la-la through Katarina. “You’re not an enemy, pumpkin.” he said, stirring the foam on his cappuccino. “Just can’t have people thinking I’m open to bribes.”

  Poor man had no idea about the bribes she planned to launch in his direction. She intended to make him forget all about one Suzette Forrester in less than a week. “I’d never dream of bribing you, Tripp Anthony, but I am planning to make my homemade duck à l’orange tonight. One could hardly consider duck a bribe.”

  The smile faded from his Hollywood-gorgeous face. “Eh, sorry, Kat, but I probably need to get my head together before I get back on the dating horse.”

  Well, figgie pudding. Tripp must really have it bad for Suzette if he turned down duck à l’orange. Still, she’d never met a man she couldn’t entice.

  Her fake smile faded. She’d never had a man she could keep, either. Maybe she needed to change her strategy. “Hold on there, cowboy. I wasn’t asking you to dinner. Well, I was, but for food, not a date dinner.” She held her breath. Had she made her situation worse?

  Tripp frowned, clearly not understanding her meaning. “I’m sorry, I thought… Took me a long time to get over us the last time, Kat. I don’t want to go through that again.”

  Hell, the man wasn’t giving her much to work with. “I hoped we could be friends now, Tripp. With Suzette gone, I could use a friend. I heard she helped you with your script last year. I’ll be glad to read with you if that helps. Like we did with your literature homework. You seem to memorize better when I read to you.”

  He studied her, almost as if he were trying to get inside her head. Tripp had changed, too. The old Tripp never looked beneath the surface. “Friends, huh?”

  She nodded.

  Tripp’s expression still looked hesitant. Although even that looked good on him. Of course, anything would look good on Tripp Anthony. His tongue-tying handsomeness made him a megastar—if only a megastar in the soap opera world. “I didn’t know you and Suzette were friends.”

  Of course, he wouldn’t know. She hadn’t seen Tripp since Suzette came to her rescue that dreary day at last year’s Christmas Tree Contest. “You know she decorated my tree for me, right? And I’m managing Forrester Florals now.”

  “No kidding?” The hesitant look vanished. “I heard about the tree, but I thought…”

  “Thought what?” Had Suzette told him something else?

  “I thought Suzette was just being Suzette.” He flashed a goofy grin, one that made women’s panties melt.

  Only Katarina wanted more than sex-capades this time around. “You mean fixing things just because they need fixing?”

  “No.” With the look Tripp flashed, you’d think she’d insulted Mother Teresa. “Well, yes, sort of.” He pulled his wallet out of his leather jacket and pulled out some bills.

  He was leaving?

  He was leaving. Uh-oh. Katarina couldn’t let him go yet. Only what should she do?

  Maybe the lovesick Tripp wanted a Suzette type. She could do that. At least until she got back into his good graces—or got him into her bed. Then he’d be hers and she could be herself—whoever the hell she was.

  She placed a hand on his forearm. “I am trying to be more like Suzette. You know, show my friends I care.” That was mostly true. Santa help her, the perky brunette had gotten under Katarina’s skin. With kindness, no less. Katarina did want to be nicer, but nice in her own way—not Suzette’s over-the-top sweetness. “Give me a chance to prove I’m your friend, Tripp. Come to dinner. Around seven?” Gads, was that pleading coming out of her mouth?

  Tripp twisted his mouth to one side, a gesture she’d hated while they were dating, but now found kind of cute. “Just friends?”

  Incense, frankincense, and myrrh. The things a girl had to do. “Just friends,” she replied, resisting the urge to cross her fingers behind her back.

  He wowed her with his movie-star smile again. “Okay, but I have to go now. I’m supposed to meet Lydia at the library.”

  Lydia? Surely, Tripp couldn’t have a thing for her. She wasn’t his type at all. “Okay. Bye, Tripp.”

  He gave a little wave, as if she were nothing more than some fan girl. Katarina watched him walk out of the shop, wondering where she’d failed. Apparently, Tripp the soap opera star would require a lot more effort than Tripp, her high school sweetheart.

  “Put your tongue back in your mouth, Snodgrass,” Kaley McIntire drawled. The owner of the Brew Mistress had spoken loud enough to ensure everyone in the shop heard her.

  Damn. If anyone could test her resolve to be a kinder, more honest human being, that person would be Kaley McIntire. Still, Katarina refused to turn green and roll over like a spool of curly ribbon.

  “I see those customer service classes are paying off,” she replied. Maybe her words weren’t in line with her kinder-gentler goals, but they sounded a lot better than what she wanted to say: go choke on your coffee grounds.

  “You want something, or are you just stalking my customers?” Kaley demanded.

  Katarina wanted to skate off the thin ice she’d created, but the Brew Mistress had the best lattes in the state. She hadn’t been in the shop for almost a year—not since her collapse at last year’s Christmas Tree Contest. Katarina had pretty much avoided all her old acquaintances since that miserable day.

  Only people didn’t seem to know. If they did, no one had acted any differently toward her.

  She walked up to the counter. “I’ll have a large latte. But make it a skinny.”

  “Skinny?” Kaley exaggerated her look of surprise. “Since when? If you tell me you’ve given up cinnamon rolls, too, I’ll eat a reindeer.”

  The lump in Katarina’s throat grew to the size of the pastry. She really would love to indulge as she had in her bitchier times, but her doctor insisted on a healthy diet. She wasn’t supposed to lose any weight, but she’d gained enough. Even her physician said so. “No, thanks,” she replied, hoping Kaley didn’t notice her voice was a bit screechy.

  “One skinny latte for the skinny lady,” Kaley yelled to her barista, again making sure everyone in the shop could hear.

  Katarina regretted her decision to order. A fast-food latte wouldn’t taste as good, but she wouldn’t have to endure the side of hostility that came with one of Kaley’s beverages. A year ago, she would have actually enjoyed bickering with Kaley, but the new Katarina was uncomfortable.

  “You know, Katty,” Kaley drawled her fake drawl—the woman was from Pittsburg, for Kris Kringle’s sake. “You had your chance with Tripp. Leave him alone”

  “You interested?” she asked. If Katrina remembered correctly, Kaley didn’t have a lot of love for Tripp.

  “No, but others might be.”

  “Who?” Katarina instantly regretted her question. Kaley would think she was sizing up the competition. Worse, the Brew Mistress owner wouldn’t tell her anything now. Katarina should have simply shrugged.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Kaley said, ratcheting up the bitch factor. “You got a brand new itch for the town’s hot-shot actor, or are you sucking up to him because he’s judging the tree contest?”

  Ouch. “I don’t need to suck up.” Damn, why was she letting Kaley undercut all her kinder-gentler progress?

  “Right. What place did you get last year?” Kaley knew exactly where she’d finished.

  Katarina smiled, trying to think of something Zen. “Second,” she replied, forcing a smile. “I only placed that high because of Suzette.”

 
; There, she’d given credit where credit was due. On the surface, that sounded kinder-gentler, but Kaley would probably resent her acknowledgement. Suzette stepped in at the last second to decorate Katarina’s tree and that hadn’t sat well with Kaley.

  “I still can’t believe you’re managing Forrester Florals,” Kaley said, shaking her head. “You were so mean to Suzette.”

  Katarina swallowed. She supposed she hadn’t been that nice—in the past. She’d taunted Suzette about the contest, but only because she’d been intimidated. Before she’d turned over her new evergreen needle, lashing out was the only behavior she’d understood. She saw now that had been wrong. Suzette had forgiven her. Why couldn’t Kaley?

  Damn, being kinder-gentler had never been harder. “That was then, Kaley. We’ve moved on.”

  Kaley snorted, clearly not ready to forgive and forget. “Why would a snob like you want to work at a florist anyway? I suppose even a girl with her daddy’s credit card needs a hobby.”

  Snob? That hurt. And Katrina needed the job for more than a hobby. Just for little things—like rent and food. Her psychologist said she should be more open about her problems, admit she had issues, but Katarina would rather no one knew about her money problems. She suspected Suzette had caught on—otherwise, why would her new friend have offered her the job?

  Her dad created her current financial problem. She didn’t know exactly what he’d done, but her father cleaned out the trust fund her grandmother had left for her. The former mayor had been the trustee, but Katarina didn’t think that gave her father any rights to her money. Only what could she do? Sue her father? No way.

  “I take my work seriously,” Katarina replied, wondering what had possessed her to order a latte.

  “So I heard. Won’t that be a conflict of interest when you compete against your employer in the Christmas Tree Contest?”

  Katarina smiled. “I’m not competing. The shop is my sponsor.” Katarina was actually thrilled to be representing Forrester Florals. She’d been saving every penny, hoping Suzette would let her become a partner. She’d never expected to like the florist life, but the job suited her. After getting Tripp back, her career ranked as the most important step in her life plan.