Page 33 of A Cozy Kind of Christmas

THIRTY

MEG

Meg bombarded Johanna with questions on the drive to the snocross track.

“You sneaky little devil. Wait, so all those hot dates—they were all with Connor freaking Howard. Damn, I had no idea.” She gave her friend a fist bump.

“Come to think of it, though, I can see it now. He always turns beet red in our team meetings whenever you’re in charge.

And remember that one time when he tripped over the mic stand like three times trying to give you a coffee?

I mean, come on. I should have picked up on it.

He’s totally into you. Showing up at your door with flowers and flying across the country to surprise you, this is the stuff of romance novels. ”

“Hardly.” Johanna scoffed. “You read too many novels because, trust me, I’m not more than a hookup for him.

The only reason he’s putting on this show is because he knows he screwed up.

He’s not used to women turning him down.

You’ve seen his fan mail.” Her voice was sharper than usual.

“If I were to cave—which, mark my words, I will not—we’d be right back in the same position. ”

“I don’t know. Dropping everything to fly out across the country to win your heart sounds like more than a hookup.

” Meg thought back to a half dozen interactions she’d had lately with the sportscaster.

He brought up Johanna in every conversation they had.

She’d assumed he was fishing for information, trying to get the inside scoop about promotions and the potential management changes coming, but now she saw their exchanges in a brand-new light.

Connor was picking Meg’s brain for intel, but only because he was in love with his editor and her friend.

“Oh, my God, this is seriously the most romantic thing ever. Can I document this for social? A story like this would go bonkers, like overnight viral, especially since Connor is such a known personality.”

“I will murder you dead, absolutely dead, if you so much as touch your phone.” Johanna didn’t mince her words. “This is not a scene from a romantic movie, Meg. Get that through your thick, little head. This is a gimmick, a trick, a ridiculous show to inflate his massive ego.”

Meg started to interrupt. A handful of the star sportscasters had egos; it came with the territory, but Connor wasn’t one of them.

Johanna didn’t let her, holding up a decisive finger. “Nope. Don’t. Don’t defend him. As soon as I see him, I’m sending him back to New York.”

“But—” Meg was a rare loss for words. She understood why Johanna was leery, but Connor deserved a chance. How could Johanna not see how romantic this gesture was?

“So Matt and I had a nice chat last night.” Johanna changed the subject, bringing an end to any more of Meg’s questions. “I invited him and Lucinda to come to the race. He sounded interested.”

“Why would you do that?” Meg fiddled with the zipper on her coat, yanking it up and down.

“Are you trying to torture me? It’s bad enough to have to put on a brave face at his party events.

The last thing I need is the lovebirds showing up while I’m on assignment.

Watch, it will be just my luck that he decides to propose this morning. ”

“Are you sure he’s going to propose?” Johanna sounded skeptical.

Meg glanced out the window where a view of Mount Bachelor and the Three Sisters came into view.

Her breath caught as the mighty peaks rose against the backdrop of a pristine blue sky.

Everything was washed in shades of stunning blues and white, minus the occasional ranch ablaze with holiday lights. “Yeah, I mean isn’t it obvious?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t get the impression when we were chatting last night that it’s that serious,” Johanna said, giving Meg her best editor look. It was the one she pulled out when she wanted a favor or needed to be in charge.

“Considering he was planning to propose last night, I’d say they’re serious, yeah.” Meg reached into her pack for a granola bar. She ripped open the package and offered Johanna a bite.

She’d been so thrown off by Connor’s early text that she skipped breakfast. She munched on the bar. It wasn’t enough to sustain her, but usually, these types of events had on-site catering. She would hit the catering tent and fuel up.

“Wasn’t that a rumor? He didn’t propose and didn’t give any indication that it was even in his sphere of possibility.” Johanna sounded like she was hinting at something, but Meg didn’t want to let herself go there.

“He probably chickened out because I showed up.” Meg ripped off another hunk of the bar and brushed crumbs from her ski pants.

“I don’t know. We chatted for a long time, and it never came up. I got the impression that he’s feeling a lot of pressure with work and trying to balance that aspect of their relationship.”

“Like colleagues you’re secretly hooking up with?” Meg interrupted, shooting her eyebrows toward her forehead and giving Johanna a playful smirk.

Johanna punched her softly in the arm. “No, I’m serious. His reaction was odd anytime I mentioned Lucinda. Even inviting her to the race. He made it sound like he had no idea how to answer for her, and I should ask her myself.”

“Because he’s a supportive partner,” she countered through a bite of the granola bar. “He’s a modern Mr. Darcy. A feminist. A king, Ms. King.”

“Possibly, but he didn’t make it sound like he’s planning on getting on a knee anytime soon. Actually, he asked a lot about you.”

“What about this weekend? The invitations? Forest formal dinner tonight? There’s a freaking dress code—that’s serious!

Plus, snowshoeing, beer tasting, and the bonfire.

That’s not the kind of party you throw for a work friend.

” Meg refused to give a single ounce of attention to the tiny glimmer of hope building inside.

No, Matt was with Lucinda.

End of story.

“True, but it could be for the company.”

“What did the company do for your birthday?” Meg retorted, tamping down the idea before she let it take hold. “I got a Costco cake and an ESPN hoodie for mine.”

“Right, but this is a family business, and they want Matt to take on a management role. They could be trying to woo him.”

“Woo him?” Meg choked on a bite of the granola bar. “What? Are we suddenly in a Jane Austen novel?”

“Hey, you’re the one who brought up Darcy.” Johanna winked. “Although, it’s starting to feel like that, or maybe Shakespeare would be more apropos.”

“Either way, I have a singular focus—the assignment. Let’s make a promise to stop talking or even thinking about men and get to work to figure out some way to make this snocross race the coziest Christmas event we ever did see.”

Easier said than done, Meg, but nice try.