Witching You Weren’t Snowed In (Witching You #2)

Chapter 3

Leo

If whisks were sharp, I’d be dead.

Sage eyed the utensil between us. An awkward moment passed before she took it from me with a strained smile. One that was mostly for her parents’ benefit. She dropped it back onto the counter, then wiped her hand on her coat as if it could wipe away my existence.

Nice try, City Girl.

Though her latest nickname didn’t match the Sage I’d known since we were in high school. None of them had ever fit. Because few people knew the real Sage.

Hair changed. Clothes evolved. But Sage’s vulnerability, wrapped up with stubbornness and a dash of sharp humor, was bone deep. She had just learned to package it differently.

And I didn’t hate it—or the way she’d looked dusted in flour—though it was pretty clear she still hated me. I was lucky she hadn’t been able to reach the butcher’s block before I walked into the kitchen .

Although, her murderous expression had morphed into one of mortification. Not that I blamed her. Coming face-to-face with your staged selfies on the kitchen wall was rough. It almost made me want to switch my profile to private.

“Well, this has been so much fun, but I should go unpack. I’ll let myself into the house.” Sage flashed the key in her palm and pulled her ski hat back over her head, hiding her sleek blonde hair. “Wake me up when it’s New Year’s,” she mumbled under her breath before striding toward the swinging kitchen door.

“Wait, honey! You have to join us for lunch at the lodge. We’ve been so busy there’s nothing in the fridge except eggnog, and you know how your father is with the rum ratio.”

“Trust me, there’s not enough eggnog in Cold Spell,” Sage said over her shoulder.

Suzanne trailed behind her, and I could barely make out their hushed conversation by the front door.

“Forget it. I’m not having lunch with him.”

“At least try, dear. We need this arrangement,” Suzanne whispered. “Your father and I had to use some of our retirement savings to pay off a loan for the shop, and now we’re behind.”

“Mom, why didn’t you—?”

David cleared his throat loud enough to urge Sage and her mother to continue their conversation outside. When the door closed with a soft jingle, he sighed and wiped a hand through his long beard. “My daughter’s probably jet-lagged. I’m sure she’ll come around. She’ll be impressed by what you’ve done with the place.”

Impressed? Try skeptical. Sage would likely start a petition to shut down the resort and kick my commercialized and soulless butt straight out of ski country. The most logical plan was to steer clear of her until she completed her hometown victory lap and went back to her busy life in the city. Because for someone who acted as if he didn’t have a care in the world, I was surprisingly risk averse.

Acquiring the lodge had been my first risk, not only financially, but because I’d left the stability of my father’s real estate development company and struck out on my own. I couldn’t afford to let anything get in the way. But deep down, it was more than that. I needed this place to succeed. I needed its permanence. I’d spent too many years chasing something that had never chased me back.

I wasn’t about to let Sage Bennett sweep into town, put my entire world in one of her magical blenders, and hit liquefy.

She’d enjoy it too much.

My phone buzzed, and I checked the notification. Another emergency at the resort. Something about a mechanical issue with the chairlift. The last thing we needed when we were trying to attract guests was skiers stranded in mid-air.

“I have to get back. Let me know if there are any issues with the setup for your event. If you can’t reach me, contact my assistant, Valerie.”

“Will do!” David lifted a hand in a wave, but paused, noticing the open window and fallen flour canister. He frowned. “ What happened here? Wait—If my daughter was involved, I don’t want to know. I’ll get a broom.”

By the time I’d put on my jacket and exited the tea shop, both Suzanne and Sage were nowhere to be found. I shivered inside my coat as snowflakes pelted me in the face. The weather forecast had predicted sun, but any snow would be good for the slopes and save us from having to run the snow cannons. From a cost standpoint, I’d take all the white fluffy stuff I could get.

Tourist season wasn’t in full swing, and the drive to the lodge was short. After Thanksgiving would be the real test to see if the resort could draw in the crowds as it had in the past.

Since securing the property, I’d sunk my own funds into updating structural defects and worked hard to bring the place up to code. So far, it had been nothing but a money pit drenched in rustic charm. But I was counting on that specific brand of charm to pay dividends.

Even sitting beneath storm clouds, the main building was a sight to see. Timber and natural stone framed the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the snow-capped mountains. The resort grounds were dotted with flagstone fire pits and snowshoe trails, and a wraparound deck boasted an oversized hot tub.

Currently, the lodge had twenty-three boutique guest rooms—twenty-two if you didn’t count the one I’d been living out of since I arrived back in Cold Spell—and if everything went accordingly; I had plans for expansion.

But first, we needed guests .

The resort had floundered the last few seasons, losing traction to some of the larger, more modern hotels. It also didn’t help that we had a tricky public relations issue. Sage wasn’t wrong when she accused a developer of stripping the charm from our small town. It just wasn’t me.

Two years ago, my father’s company brokered a deal that closed one of the town’s historical landmarks so he could put in a parking lot. Another deal shuttered the local ice skating rink and the surrounding park. They’re building luxury condos there now.

I’d been overseas while my father sacrificed the town’s character for profit. When I returned home, I wasn’t the most welcome man in Cold Spell.

Scrooge himself would have fared better.

Everyone was waiting for the bulldozers to arrive. They certainly weren’t lining up to buy lift tickets or enjoying the newly renovated guest rooms with working fireplaces. I was merely an extension of my father, trying to squeeze the last bit of money out of the lodge before I tore down another cherished landmark.

No one believed I had other intentions. The irony was, I only had one shot at this. I had enough money for this season, and if I failed, the resort would end up on another developer’s chopping block.

The snow had tapered off as I climbed the wide stone steps leading into the lodge. Valerie, my assistant, greeted me in the lobby, a two-way radio clipped to her hip and a coffee tumbler clutched in her hand .

She was fresh out of college and the only one I’d interviewed who hadn’t blocked my number when they learned the salary. Valerie was also a lifesaver, keeping me organized and on schedule. There wasn’t anything she couldn’t fix with a spreadsheet and caffeine. Well—except for my current reputation.

“Let me read your schedule for the day,” Valerie said, keeping pace with me as we walked through the spacious lobby. “You have a meeting with the contractor in an hour, a wine delivery at noon, and there’s a staff meeting at three. I also texted you about the broken chairlift. The mechanic is working on it as we speak.”

“Any new reservations?”

Valerie dodged the question and tried to distract me by tossing a freshly baked muffin from our complimentary coffee station in my direction.

“Have you tried one of these yet? They’re fantastic. Hiring the Bennetts to provide baked goods from their shop was genius. Now if we could only figure out how to get people in here to eat them.” She grabbed a muffin for herself and refilled her tumbler. “By the way, how did you get the Bennetts on our side?”

“They needed the money. I’m sure they attended the town meeting disguised as a Grayson roast, like everyone else.”

“Gotcha.” Valerie made a sympathetic face.

I leaned against the coffee station and noted the vacant reservation desk on the other side of the lobby. The clerk had his elbows on the counter, playing a game on his phone. At least he wasn’t sleeping .

“Do you have that list of influencers? We should start with one of them. Our budget is pretty much non-existent, but we could have them hold another company’s product while standing in front of our mountain. We wouldn’t have to pay full price for that.”

Valerie snickered and scrolled through her phone. “I don’t think that’s how it works. Nice try, though. Forget influencers for the moment. What you need is a local. Someone who can help you make inroads with the community. We need to change the town’s perception of you.”

“It can’t be that bad. Sure, there’s the history with my father, but I grew up here. They know me.”

“They knew you. A lot of time has passed and recent memories overshadow old ones. Not to freak you out, but the other day, people in line at the grocery store mentioned the word boycott.”

I cringed. Boycott was bad.

“Do you know any locals who would work within our pitiful budget? Better yet, for free?” I joked, taking a bite of the muffin. It was delicious. Freshly baked this morning with extra blueberries and a sugar-crusted top. Our rivals used pre-packaged pastries. They definitely didn’t source local coffee beans.

“You can’t use some of your charisma to find someone?” Valerie teased. “I thought you were once voted most likely to be on the cover of a lifestyle magazine.”

The muffin caught in the back of my throat, and I coughed, trying to dislodge it from my windpipe. “Some charisma. I was nearly beaten with a whisk this morning inside the tea shop. I’m not stepping a foot into the hardware store. Too many saws.” I sank my teeth into the muffin for another bite, chewing slowly as an idea nagged at me.

Was Sage Bennett’s homecoming the answer? She’d gone from a shy introvert who’d been picked on because she was different to a wildly successful career woman. One who happened to work in the miracle department. Because that’s what this would take: a miracle.

But no. It would never work. To win over the town, first I’d have to win over her.

With our history, I might as well save myself the trouble, put on a Santa suit, and hand over the deed to the resort as a Christmas gift. I didn’t need to go digging around in old wounds that had never healed properly.

Still…

I scrubbed a hand over my face. This resort was worth fighting for. This town was worth fighting for. They just needed to believe I was the man to do it. And there was no denying it. For that, I needed Sage.

“Actually, I might know someone. The Bennetts have a daughter who is back in town. From what they’ve told me about her job, she has experience handling this type of thing. Supposedly, she works miracles around the holidays, which we seriously need at this point. It’s unusual, and I'm sure she'll say no because she hates me, but—”

“Wait, she hates you? I like her already. When can she start?” Valerie wriggled her eyebrows over the rim of her tumbler.

“Remind me again why I hired you? ”

“Because I’m smart,” she said, using a coffee stirrer to punctuate her point. “And when this place is raking in the tourist money, you’re going to give me a raise.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. First, we need to figure out a plan. Sage Bennett won’t help save the resort just because I ask nicely. I believe her last words to me before she left town were, ‘I never want to see you again.’”

“Ouch. What did you do?”

“It’s a long story. One which should have had a different ending, but here we are.”

Valerie drummed her fingers on the counter, her manicured nails echoing through the empty lobby. She smiled slowly. The mischief in her eyes made me think I should stick to my idea with the Santa suit.

“Look, I know it’s not your fault, but it’s common knowledge you’re a villain in this town.”

“Unjustly!” I scowled, already dreading where her thoughts were headed.

“The plan is simple. We need some leverage. All you have to do is uncover a tiny secret you can use to pressure Sage to help with the resort. Everyone has them. I have them. You have them. It’ll work because it’s human nature to want to keep those secrets hidden.”

“You’re diabolical.” I tossed the muffin wrapper into the trashcan and shook my head. “I’ll find another way. I’m not that desperate.”

“You are that desperate. I’ve seen your accounting. I hate to say it but to save this place, this town—heck, to save Christmas! You’re going to have to think like a villain.” Valerie propped her hands on her hips and grinned. “And you're in luck because I’ll be your festive minion.”