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Merry with a Tycoon (The Love Beach Holiday Collection) Chapter 6 46%
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Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

PRESTON

The PowerPoint slides blur before my eyes as our CFO drones on about quarterly projections. I should be paying attention—these figures are crucial for our upcoming expansion in Asia—but my mind keeps drifting to copper hair and determined hazel eyes.

I shift in my leather chair, trying to focus. The memory of her in that yoga class, moving with grace and strength, flashes through my mind. The way her eyes flashed with a mix of annoyance and something softer when she caught me watching her. The way–

“Mr. Hollister? Your thoughts on the projections?”

I blink, suddenly aware that all eyes in the boardroom have turned to me. Clearing my throat, I straighten up. “The projections look solid, but I’d like to see a more detailed breakdown of the potential risks in the Asian market. Can you have that on my desk by tomorrow, James?”

Our CFO nods, looking relieved. I feel a twinge of guilt for my lack of attention, but it’s quickly overshadowed by thoughts of Crystal. I need to make this right, not just for her, but for all the small business owners in Love Beach.

As the meeting wraps up, I retreat to my office, closing the door behind me. To my surprise, Teddy is waiting, a folder clutched in her hands.

“I have the draft of the letter,” she says, a hint of nervousness in her voice. “For the rent increase mistake.”

I take the folder, scanning the contents. The letter is well-written, striking the right balance between apology and professionalism. I nod approvingly. “This is good, Teddy. Really good.”

Her face lights up with pride. “You really think so?”

I nod. “I do.”

“I thought I could hand-deliver them to the shop owners.” She pauses, biting her lower lip. “You know, introduce myself properly this time.”

“That’s a great idea,” I say, impressed by her initiative. Then, trying to sound casual, I add, “Actually, would you mind if I delivered Crystal Francia’s letter personally? I owe her a more detailed explanation.”

Teddy raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. “Sure, I’ll set that one aside for you after I print them all out.”

“Thanks.”

After Teddy finishes printing all the letters and leaves, I find myself staring at Crystal’s letter sitting on my desk. This could be my chance to talk to her, to explain everything. Maybe even... ask her to dinner?

I lean back in my chair and close my eyes, picturing her face - the way her hazel eyes light up when she talks about her crystals and mosaic creations, the small dimple that appears in her left cheek when she really smiles.

A chuckle escapes me as I shake my head. When did I, Preston Hollister, get nervous about asking a woman to dinner? It’s almost laughable. I’ve negotiated billion-dollar deals, stared down board members three times my age, and yet the thought of asking Crystal out ties my stomach in knots.

But Crystal’s different. She’s real in a way that’s both refreshing and terrifying. She doesn’t seem to care about the Hollister name or what it represents. Even when she showed up at the mansion a few weeks ago, she didn’t appear to be awestruck at the place as much as she was happy to see Willy back in town. To her, I’m probably just the guy who keeps buying trinkets for his employees and increasing rents on old buildings just because he can.

As I gather my things to leave, I catch sight of the list Crystal wrote the day I played Santa, the list of wishes the children told me. In the chaos of the past few days, I’d almost forgotten about them.

A job for Daddy, a cure for Mommy…

With two more weeks before Christmas, I may not be able to give every kid the present they wanted, but I sure can try. I press the intercom. “Stella, I need you to set up a meeting with HR. We’re going to create a job fair specifically for unemployed parents in Love Beach. And contact the city hospital—I want to make a donation for new research equipment.”

I pause, reading another wish that stands out, a shy boy who wished for a friend. “Also, get in touch with the local schools. Let’s fund an after-school program focused on social skills and friendship building.”

“Certainly, Mr. Hollister.”

As I hang up, I feel a sense of relief wash over me. This Scrooge may have messed up with the rent increases at Seaside Square, but he’s not beyond redemption.

Stepping out of my office, I catch sight of my reflection in the window. There’s a smile on my face that I don’t remember putting there, and a lightness in my step that’s been missing for longer than I care to admit.

The elevator doors slide open, and I step out into the underground parking garage, the letter from Teddy feeling like it weighs a ton in my pocket. My palms are sweaty as I slide into the driver’s seat of my car.

When did I start getting nervous about visiting a small gift shop?

But HarmonyWorks isn’t just any shop, and Crystal isn’t just any shop owner. As I navigate the familiar streets of Love Beach, my mind wanders to all the times I’ve visited her store over the past couple of years. Always under the pretense of buying a gift for someone else, always stealing a few precious moments of normalcy in my otherwise chaotic life.

There was always something about her shop that pulled me there, even before Crystal took over. Mrs. Royce had the most interesting inventory and I loved how I could surprise my parents with the presents they’d never expect.

I remember the look on Mother’s face when I gave her that sound bowl for her birthday one year, a beautiful hand-hammered copper bowl that, when struck or rimmed, produced the most soothing resonant tone. Or the vintage compass I found for my father that wasn’t just any compass. When opened, it revealed a hidden sundial and a tiny compartment that held a roll of parchment paper with an inspirational quote about finding one’s true north. Father kept it on his desk until the day he died. These days, Brogan carries it with him.

Brogan was the hardest to shop for but even he was impressed by the Nightsky Lantern I got him last year. It was an intricately carved metal lantern that when lit, projected a map of the constellations onto the ceiling. Sure, I could have bought him one of those nightlights complete with sound machines, but there’s something about the glow of flickering candle that he told me reminded him of nights in the desert during his days as a SEAL.

I appreciate that Crystal has kept the same theme going, with her inventory of interesting one-of-a-kind items, especially the mosaic pieces she makes herself.

The bell above the door chimes as I enter her shop. The familiar scent of incense and essential oils envelops me, and I feel some of the tension leave my shoulders. Crystal is at the far end of the shop, carefully arranging a display of various crystals and gemstones. She’s wearing a flowing wrap dress, her hair pulled back in its usual ponytail. I allow myself a moment to admire her before clearing my throat.

She turns, surprise flickering across her face before she schools her expression into polite neutrality. “Hi, Preston. What can I do for you today?”

I pull the letter from my pocket. “I have something for you, actually.”

Curiosity replaces the wariness in her eyes as she takes the envelope. I watch anxiously as she reads, her eyes widening as she takes in the contents. When she looks up, there’s a smile on her face that makes my heart skip a beat.

“Preston, this is... thank you,” she says, and before I know what’s happening, she’s hugging me.

For a moment, I’m too stunned to react. Then, hesitantly, I wrap my arms around her, breathing in the scent of her shampoo—something floral and fresh. She feels good in my arms, fitting perfectly against my body. As she pulls away, she looks up at me and for a moment, the world stands still.

I can feel the warmth of her body against mine, see the faint dusting of freckles across her nose. Her lips part slightly, and I find myself leaning in, drawn by some invisible force.

But then the spell breaks and Crystal takes a step back, her cheeks flushed. She clears her throat, smoothing out her dress. “I… um, thank you again for bringing this letter personally. It means a lot.”

I nod, trying to ignore the disappointment settling in my chest. “Of course. I wanted to make sure you got it right away.” To distract myself, I gesture to the crystal display she was working on. “So, tell me about these.”

Her face lights up, and she launches into an explanation of the various crystals and their properties. I find myself genuinely fascinated, both by the information and by the passion with which she speaks.

“And this one?” I ask, pointing to a deep red stone that seems to glow in the late afternoon light.

“That’s red jasper,” Crystal says, picking it up and holding it out to me. “It’s known as the stone of passion and sensuality. It’s said to increase physical energy and stamina, and to reignite the fire in relationships.”

I take the stone, feeling its weight in my palm. Is it my imagination, or does it feel warm to the touch? “I’ll take it,” I hear myself say.

As Crystal moves behind the counter to wrap the red jasper, I find myself captivated by her every movement. She selects a small, elegantly designed box, her slender fingers deftly folding tissue paper around the stone. I’ve seen those hands a hundred times before, handing me purchases, gesturing as she explains the properties of various items in her shop. But now, I’m noticing details I’ve never allowed myself to focus on before.

The graceful curve of her wrists as she ties a ribbon around the box. The small callus on her middle finger, probably from hours of writing or perhaps crafting some of the handmade items she sells. A thin silver bracelet adorns her left wrist, catching the light as she moves. I wonder if it has some special meaning, or if she just liked how it looked.

As my gaze travels up her arms to her shoulders where a smattering of freckles dusts her collarbones, I wonder what it would be like to trace those freckles with my fingertips? Feel the warmth of her skin beneath my hand?

Crystal glances up, catching me staring. A blush creeps up her cheeks, adding a rosy glow to her complexion. “Is everything okay?” she asks, her hazel eyes meeting mine.

I clear my throat, suddenly aware of how long I’ve been silent. “Yes, everything’s fine. I was just... admiring your gift-wrapping skills.”

She laughs. “Well, I’ve had plenty of practice.”

As she hands me the beautifully wrapped package, our fingers brush. The contact sends a jolt through me, as if the properties of the crystal are already taking effect. I allow myself to imagine, just for a moment, what it would be like to hold her hand properly, to lace my fingers through hers.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I’m about to do. It’s now or never. “Do you have any plans for tomorrow evening?”

She looks up, surprise evident on her face. “No, I don’t.”

“Have dinner with me. Let’s celebrate the resolution of the rent issue and to… well, get to know each other better outside of business.”

For a moment, she’s quiet, and I fear I’ve overstepped. But then a slow smile spreads across her face. “I’d like that, Preston.”

“How does seven sound?”

“Seven is perfect,” she replies.

I grin. “Seven it is then.”

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