Her Hometown Christmas
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Anna Grace
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21
CHAPTER ONE
NOTHING BEAT SNUGGLING under a cozy quilt on a cold winter morning. Except maybe snuggling under a quilt with coffee.
Ani wrapped the blankets around her shoulders and sat up on the raised bed in the back of her van. She pulled back the rear window curtain. Stars retreated in the early morning light as a line of pink grew stronger along the crest of the Cascades. Pressing a finger against the window, she shivered. It was colder than she’d expected in Outcrop, and the heating unit in her Sprinter could only crank out so much warmth.
Either that or your solar-powered battery has finally died.
No, it was just cold. She could do this. She liked living on the road. Or at least it beat the alternative. And it was going to be glorious today. Anticipation shot through her: a sweet commission and a cold, sunny day in a brand-new place awaited.
But first, coffee. There was probably time to climb up on top of her van and watch the sunrise as she sipped.
Coffee. Sunrise. New place.
Life is good.
She’d seen a little of the town of Outcrop when she’d driven in the night before, but it had been dark. She’d get her rooftop view before meeting... What was the guy’s name again? Ani reached up to the shelf above her bed and found her notebook.
Hunter Wallace.
But right now she had to get out of bed.
Ani loved every inch of the van she’d remodeled: the clever storage, the functional kitchen, the solar power system, the extremely comfortable bed. It was a perfect home, and perfectly mobile. She’d earn money here in Outcrop then head to Tucson before the holidays hit. This year, she planned to be safely out of Oregon when the mayhem began.
Ani glanced toward her little kitchen. She’d tried to make coffee without getting out of bed once. That had not gone well. She steeled her will, took a deep breath and threw off the covers.
“Hey!” an angry voice outside the van barked. The pounding of a fist reverberated throughout the Sprinter.
Ani groaned. Nothing like a local parking vigilante to take the thrill off a perfect morning.
The banging continued. “You can’t park here.”
“Already did,” Ani muttered, pulling an old puffer jacket from its cubby. She slipped the jacket over her pajamas.
The banger/yeller seemed to be working at the slider door. Ani smiled to herself as she gripped the handle. There were few things more satisfying than confusing people by opening the door they were banging on.
Why anyone would be so passionate about where she parked—or didn’t park—her van overnight, she could never understand. But by now, she knew how to deal with them. Her grin widened and she flung the door open.
So, she was smiling as she met the eyes of the most ridiculously good-looking man she’d ever seen.
It was like he’d been ripped out of a men’s outdoor clothing catalog. His dark brown hair was a little too long for him to be straight-laced, but too short to be flaky. Complex hazel eyes glared at her from under long lashes. The man was tall and carelessly fit. He dressed in the standard Oregonian-cowboy ensemble of jeans, work boots, flannel shirt, puffer vest and Stetson. And, man, it looked good on him.
He lifted his hat and ran a hand through his hair, looking as startled as she was.
Okaaaaay. Deep breath. It was time to fight her way out of a ticket, not speculate about why this banger/yeller looked so unreasonably handsome in a plaid shirt. She crossed her arms over her chest and nodded toward the back of the restaurant.
“Sign says Eighty Local parking.”
“It’s seven a.m.,” the hottie replied. “Restaurant’s not open.”
“Actually, I think it’s closer to seven thirty.”
“I’m sorry, but you can’t park here.”
Ani reached for her phone to confirm the time. She tapped the screen, but nothing appeared. Weird. The phone was plugged into its charger.
“It’s private property.” Even his voice was attractive, a low resonance sparking a response from her belly. Ani didn’t look up as she checked to make sure the charger was plugged in correctly. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but there’s no overnight parking here.”
“Yeah, you’ve been pretty clear about that.” She flipped the light switch over the induction stove. Nothing happened.
Ani let out a breath and could see it. The battery was out, and with it went her heat and power. No wonder she’d been so cold.
“There’s a Walmart in Bend. You can park overnight there.” He nodded, like this was new and useful information. “And there’s national forest land to the north of here, where you can camp for free.”
She met his gaze. “Thanks. I’m not sleeping at Walmart, and I know where the forest is. I have a meeting—”
“You need to move off this lot.”
“Oh, I intend to move off this lot as soon as possible, but I have a meeting—”
“I’m going to ask you to leave now.”
Ani stilled herself. On instinct, her core muscles tightened, her shoulders relaxed, her breath steadied. She looked straight into the man’s beautiful eyes. He took a step back.
This was her personal nightmare. Her power was out, it was cold, and she was being yelled at by an intolerant, gorgeous, central Oregon lug nut. And she’d lost the capacity to make herself a cup of coffee.
The crunch of gravel pulled Ani’s attention away from the man. A pearly white, hybrid SUV bumped up over a curb and into the lot. Doors opened and slammed as two identical women jumped out, jabbering and laughing.
The man turned back to Ani. He looked like he could possibly be apologetic if he had another ten minutes, and existed in an alternate universe.
She didn’t need an apology. This man and this parking spot meant nothing to her. The world was full of people trying to enforce their own particular set of rules. Ani would park her van on the street in front of Eighty Local and never see this man again for the rest of her life.
What she needed was her freedom and the job she was in Outcrop to do would fuel that freedom.
“Excuse me,” he said, as though his departure would in any way inconvenience her. “Those are my sisters. I didn’t mean to be rude, I just don’t want this lot to become a campground.”
“Yes, you are vigilant in protecting this patch of gravel.”
“Hey—”
“Look, I have way bigger problems than this.” She gestured between them then flipped the light switch again.
Because it was her ability to flip a switch, right? Not the battery that had been on the fritz for the last month. Keep flipping the switch and the power will miraculously restore itself...
The man’s gaze connected with hers as he touched his fingers to the rim of his Stetson and took one step away, then another. The gesture was unexpected, like the first warm breeze in early March.
Ani pulled her focus from the cowboy and got back to the problem at hand—no heat. She heard his boots crunching across the gravel then exclamations of greeting as he neared the women. Ani could feel the veneer of ice around her heart start to thaw as she listened to the man greet his sisters. She caught herself turning to take one last look. He really was the most attractive man she’d ever seen. Would it hurt, another look?
Point of fact, she was never going to see him again. She should take another look, because the whole point of life was to experience new things, and the experience of a man this good-looking wasn’t going to come around again. Ani grinned to herself and glanced over her shoulder.
And there he was, looking right back at her as he pulled a set of keys out of his vest pocket. He replaced his own smile with a look of stern disapproval, but he wasn’t quick enough. The damage was done. That smile was enough to make her want to stay illegally parked here forever; his attitude was enough to make her want to hit the road immediately. He was gorgeous, but maddening, and probably thinking the exact same thing about her.
And he was unlocking the door?
Judging from the keys, and his strong feelings about the gravel surrounding Eighty Local, she’d just met Hunter Wallace.
“DO YOU LOVE your Christmas present?” Clara was jumping up and down as they entered the restaurant. Piper clapped her hands.
Hunter let the door fall shut behind them. He had so much to do today. Why had he let his sisters talk him into an 8:00 a.m. meeting?
Because there is literally no other time in the day.
He loved his sisters and, by the way they were bouncing off the walls, they were pretty stoked about the present. Why it couldn’t wait another month until Christmas, he didn’t understand. He looked around the room.
“My Christmas present?”
Clara pointed at the parking lot, her bright, dimpled smile lighting up her face. Piper’s matching smile flashed as she said, “Ani!”
Hunter looked out the window. The admittedly beautiful—but freeloading—woman circled her van.
“Ani?”
“Yes!” Piper cried. “She’s your Christmas present!”
Hunter shook his head. His sisters were highly successful matchmakers and had been trying to set him up for the last five years. Surely, they hadn’t...
Had they?
“You got me a hippie chick for Christmas?”
“She’s not a hippie,” Clara protested.
“She lives in a van,” Hunter reminded her.
“With zero bumper stickers.” Clara widened her eyes.
“Because everyone with an alternative lifestyle sticks pithy sayings to the back of their vehicle?”
“Basically,” Piper confirmed.
Hunter looked back out the window. The woman, Ani, had climbed up onto the top of her van and was examining the solar panel.
“She paints murals,” Piper said. “We know how stressed out you’ve been about the expansion and the Bend Equestrian Society Gala.”
“And we know how you keep complaining about how dull this building looks when you approach from the east,” Clara cut in.
“So, we hired her!”
“She can finish it in time for the gala. She’ll paint whatever you like—”
“—but we do have a few suggestions.”
Hunter scrambled for an excuse. “I don’t have the time—”
“You literally don’t have to do anything,” Piper said. “Just be all ‘looks great!’ if she asks, then go marinate something, or whatever you do in the kitchen.”
“And I can totally help with anything,” Clara said. “We one hundred percent didn’t make more work for you. I promise.”
“Merry Christmas!”
Hunter stared at his sisters. He was touched by their thoughtfulness, annoyed by their interference and now trapped with an inconsiderate, inconceivably attractive woman.
Family.
Hunter’s gaze drifted to the ceiling then circled through his restaurant. Eighty Local was his life. He’d bought the condemned building with money he’d earned sweeping floors, waiting and busing tables, and cooking in dive restaurants.
Rescued lumber, third-hand appliances and repurposed materials came cheap, and Hunter had collected what he’d needed over time. While continuing his work on the family ranch, Hunter had built this place board by board. “Stylish and sustainable,” was what Central Oregon Living had said in its write-up. At least eighty percent of everything he served was local. Fruits and vegetables came from Oregon’s Willamette Valley, grain was shipped in from the eastern half of the state. He bought from small, family-run farms, like the beef he sourced from his brother-in-law’s ranch a few miles up the road.
After being a daily disappointment to his parents for most of his life, Hunter was finally successful.
Or at least he had been until he’d gotten it into his head to expand. Hunter had sunk every penny he’d had, and every penny he could get the bank and friends and family to loan him, into an events hall. With the location and the surprising success of his restaurant, it had seemed like a sure bet. Hunter’s lungs constricted as he thought of everything he still had to do to get the space ready for the Bend Equestrian Society Gala. If the space and the event weren’t perfect, the women of BES would flood the internet with bad reviews. Eighty Local would be finished. He had twenty-seven days. Six-hundred, forty-nine-and-a-half hours to go.
A beautiful, mural-painting woman was the last distraction he needed. She’d caught him at his worst, then caught him staring at her.
What could he possibly say to his sisters? They were both so busy with their matchmaking business. Clara was newly married. Piper had rallied for Clara’s wedding, but still hadn’t snapped out of the funk she’d been in since a painful breakup last summer. Yet here they both were, bouncing with excitement about the possibility of a mural for Eighty Local.
“Thank you.” Hunter held out his arms. His sisters came in to hug him and he found himself worrying a fifteen-second family hug would take up too much time. Along with finishing the events center, he had to help with the family’s Mistletoe Festival, participate in the town business fair, and host the gala. All while running the restaurant.
And somewhere in there he needed to celebrate Christmas with his noisy, loving family.
The bells on the front door jangled and Hunter felt the gust of cold air. He looked up to find Ani fully dressed, long hair piled artfully on her head, eyes sharp and determined.
“Given the way my morning is going, can I assume you’re Hunter Wallace?”
