“Ha,” Jasmine laughed. “I know, right? Anyway she is the head designer of said ornament company and she hosts these glassblowing workshops at the factory in Denver. If we could get her to come here…”
“Ah,” I said. “I like it. Denver artist. Christmas ornaments. Kringle Inn.”
Jasmine smiled and rubbed her hands together. “Exactly. Now, I know you said it might be an impossible get, but I really think we need to talk to Matt.”
“Talk to him about what?”
“About all of it. Helping out with the publicity for the Inn and the tree farm. He could show up at the mayor’s Christmas Jamboree. Plus all sorts of other smaller events. Sign autographs, meet the fans. If I can get him in a Santa suit, well…then the sky is the limit.”
I laughed. “Jasmine, that’s never going to happen. I told you. Matt’s not coming home.”
She pouted. “You’re sure?”
“I’m totally sure. Don’t waste your time. Oh, and since I’m thinking about it, here, put your contact information in my phone so I know to pick up your calls.” I unlocked my phone and slid it across the desk. Jasmine took it and started keying.
“What are you doing?” she asked me.
“Trying to make money from nothing,” I admitted. “Otherwise known as figuring out how to charge more for the rooms and cabins we are renting, while not needing to put a whole lot of money back into them first. I’m thinking about theme cabins.”
“Themes? Like different types of sexy cabins?”
“Sexy cabins?” I said. “Why did your brain go straight there?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I get a little horny after a good business meeting.”
“I’m not thinking about sex,” I said adamantly. “At all. Not even a little bit. Sex is the furthest thing from my mind right now.”
There was a knock on the door. Jasmine turned in her seat to greet the visitor while I scowled at the intruder.
“What do you want?” I barked.
“Kay-Kay, did you ever think maybe the reason you’re losing customers is because you greet them with that horrible scowl?”
“My scowl is not horrible. It’s intimidating.”
Paul held up his hands and shook them in mock panic. “I’m so intimidated.”
“Shut up,” I growled. “What do you want?”
“I’m heading to the grocery store in town. Since it seems like you’re planning on staying for a while and you appear to like my cooking, I thought I would come over here and ask you what you’d like to eat.”
Instantly, my stomach started to growl. In New York, I only ate when absolutely necessary. Because there was always something else to do. Because being thin was considered chic. Because I sucked at cooking, so I only did it when I was forced to in order to live.
The idea of someone else cooking something. For me. That I liked…
“Pasta!” I nearly shouted. “And cheese!”
Jasmine squinted at me. “Are you okay?”
I squirmed in my seat. “I’m just excited by the idea of someone else doing the cooking. But I thought you only made breakfast?”
“Ooh,” Jasmine crooned. “There’s nothing better than a man who makes breakfast. Am I right?”
I scowled at her then and she immediately shut up.
“I have many undiscovered talents,” Paul said. “My pasta carbonara is going to rock your world. What are you guys doing anyway?”
“We’re coming up with sexy themed cabins,” Jasmine answered.
