4. Sunny

CHAPTER 4

Sunny

G ray was a funny guy. He could be a little gruff, but he also not-so-secretly cared. And I noticed he didn't pull back when I wrapped my arm around his. I couldn’t explain why I did it, save for the fact that over the past couple of days I’d become deeply, tragically attracted to this man’s many contradictions.

Even though I’d irritated him from the start, he’d still been thoughtful about my aversion to crowds, and that was sexy as hell. His family and friends affectionately teased him for his severity, but he didn’t take it personally, and they weren’t judging him.

That little corner his uncle had set up for him and the way Jilly enjoyed his company were proof that he was a beloved member of his family and this community, regardless of his terrible first, asshole-y impression.

He was, in my estimation, the opposite of an asshole, and I got the sense that if someone worked their way under his prickly exterior, he would never let them go. I shivered at the thought.

Pick me.

Ugh, pathetic.

In the truck on the way back, I asked, “So, what’s this festival all about?”

“I doubt you'd enjoy it,” he said, staring straight ahead.

“You're probably right. But it seems like a really big deal to the town.”

“It is.” He tapped his steering wheel with his thumb, then snuck a glance in my direction. “Every year they need extra snow for different activities, so when we clear off the runway, we make sure that they get as much of the extra snow as they want.”

I couldn’t picture Gray hauling all that snow with a Christmas song in his heart, but he did it anyway, year after year.

“That’s awfully nice of you.”

He grunted and then went silent for the rest of the trip home, save to tell me to stay in the truck with the heater on while he grabbed the items he needed from the store.

I couldn’t help it—I was beguiled by his grumpy way of caring for people, and I wanted to know more. Sure, it’d be like trying to befriend a brick wall—or a cactus—but one thing people didn't get about me was that I was secretly as stubborn as Gray was.

While I certainly lived up to my nickname, I didn't get to where I was just because of who my family was. That helped, of course, but Baz and I had a business strategy that was at least ninety-seven percent pure stubbornness. We were going to do things with more humanity and joy than my father could have ever imagined, and nobody could stop us.

We made our way to Gray’s house, and I rappelled from his truck with half of the groceries in hand. Honestly, it was worth it for the scowl on his face. I bumped into him as he let us in the house and he rolled his eyes, acting put out.

But I wasn’t convinced.

The second Gray opened the kennel door, Lunchbox tore through the house, doing hot laps and spins with his little tongue hanging out. After letting him get out some of his energy, I knelt and he jumped into my open arms, slobbering on my cheek. Gray grabbed Lunch’s leash, which he’d placed on the hook next to Sweetie’s, and handed it to me.

I clipped the leash to my baby’s collar. “I know we just spent half the morning walking around the town, but do you want to join us for a quick walk?” I asked.

He stopped midway through putting a leash on Sweetie. “Um, I assumed I would? Sweetie needs a walk, too, and I was going to maybe see if I could do my good deed for the day and clear Mrs. Beetle’s driveway.”

“See? You are secretly a good guy,” I said, gripping his hand. “You’re never beating those charges.”

“Whatever. Can we at least get you into something warmer before we head out?”

I did a piss-poor job of hiding my smile as I handed him Lunch’s leash. “Sure. Be right back.”

I practically skipped to the guest room, where I heaved my suitcase onto the bed and laid it open. Ignoring the carefully packed scarf that didn’t smell like Gray, I pulled out my down Patagonia vest. It was plenty warm for the current weather, but if I went out there in just a vest, there’d be a fight. Grinning, I layered it over my lighter coat and readjusted the scarf in the mirror that hung outside the adjoining bathroom door.

While I’d kept the peace by combining the jacket and vest, something told me that Gray would like that I was still wearing his scarf. The thought that it might charm him in some way gave me a flush of pleasure.

“You, Mr. Day, are playing a very dangerous game,” I said, chiding my reflection.

I was usually interested in people like me: cheerful and dogged about finding the good. I placed a lot of value on those brighter qualities, but there was something deeply alluring about a man who fully embraced his shadow self yet wasn’t mean.

Despite his prickliness when we’d first met, Gray had understood that I was panicking at that bakery and got me out of there as quickly as he could. He didn't ask questions, he just did it.

Did he even know how utterly sexy that kind of thing was?

So, yeah. Gray had a darker aspect. But the way he accepted his own nature was, surprisingly, a comfort. A sort of reminder that I didn't have to live up to my nickname every second of the day.

Besides, I didn't even know if I was going to stay in town, so maybe a fling with someone who wasn't my usual flavor was just what I needed. Of course, there was the possibility that if I hit on him, he would toss me out on my ear, and I’d have nowhere to stay.

I decided, though, that he was worth taking the chance.

I unzipped my vest pocket and stuffed a few doggie bags in there, then walked down the hallway to his approving nod.

“Layers are smart,” he said, reaching out to tuck in a loose bit of scarf with a proud little half-smile.

“You put the dogs in booties?” I asked on a laugh. Lunch looked confused and was raising alternating paws as if trying to work out what the fuck was on his feet.

“Looks like it might snow again.”

Gray then opened the door for me, ending that discussion. He followed behind, holding the leashes for both Sweetie and Lunchbox. Lunch still didn’t know what to do with his paws but followed Gray willingly.

I kept my mouth shut, curious to see how long Gray was willing to hold the leashes. Lunchbox tended to pull on the leash whenever we went on a walk, but when he tried to do that to Gray, Gray simply corrected him and gave him the order to heel . My little scamp immediately fell in line.

Little, furry jackass.

“Thousands of dollars I spent on dog training, and never once has he followed the heel command for me,” I complained as we made our way down the block.

“It’s in the way you give the command,” Gray responded. “I noticed that when you talk, your sentences sometimes sound like questions, and you have a bright way about you. My sentences end on a down note, which encourages dogs—and people—to pay attention to my words.”

Distinctly X-rated thoughts filtered through my mind. I wondered if his voice would end on a down note if he were to, say, tell me to get on my hands and knees.

“Yeah, I can see how that would make a difference,” I said, my cheeks going hot.

To avoid embarrassing myself, I refocused on our surroundings. Despite the chilly weather, the neighbors were out in full force, shoveling their driveways and setting out Christmas lights. I enjoyed walking, but I was well known in Chicago and got stopped wherever I went. A few of the folks here might have recognized me, but they respected my space.

That may well have been because I was walking around with Gray, come to think of it. People naturally gave him a wide berth, and I had to say I liked it.

Two blocks down, we stopped at the one yard that was still completely snowed over.

“This is Mrs. Beetle’s place,” he said, turning to her icy walkway.

He slipped a little, then glared at the concrete as though it’d offended him personally.

“This is way too dangerous for her,” he muttered.

The front door opened as we hit the steps, and I could swear I was looking at Mrs. Claus. The cutest little old lady with snow white hair in a fresh curl set wearing cute black orthopedics and a red satin jog suit appeared in the doorway, a tray of cookies in her trembling hands.

“Gray! What brings you by?” she asked as he opened her storm door. “Here, have some cookies!”

He gently took the tray from her. “Mind if I come in and get you out of this cold weather?”

“Sure, honey, but the cold don’t bother me none. It’s brisk!”

Her sweet demeanor won over my heart and quickly made her my favorite person in this quaint little town.

We bundled inside, Gray reaching down to take both dogs in his arms. We each took a cookie and sat with her, eating as she told us about the goings-on with the retiree set.

One thing was certain—the elderly were far more sexually active than I’d been led to believe. Before she could go into her adventures in ethical non-monogamy, Gray held up his hand.

“Actually, Mrs. Beetle, I noticed that your driveway and walkway need to be shoveled and salted. Would you mind if we took a crack at it?”

I sent him a grateful look for including me in the equation because I did not have a poker face, and didn’t want to hear her thoughts on the Eiffel Tower. She definitely wasn’t talking about Paris.

No shade, of course—I hope I’m half as spry at her age. I just didn’t need the details.

“Oh, dear, that would be wonderful. I have a powerful snow blower, but damn near ended up at the North Pole the last time I tried to clean my driveway. And I hate being the only one with an unkept lawn at Christmastime.”

Gray assured her that her yard would be ship shape in no time.

I took one look at her unadorned house and figured that she probably would’ve put up lights and ornaments if she could’ve. Hm.

I leaned forward. “Mrs. Beetle, do you have any Christmas decorations you’d like for me to put up?” I thumbed a gesture at Gray. “This one’s useless with Christmas stuff, but I can hang Christmas lights like nobody’s business.”

“Well.” She took on a look of concentration. “Been spending so much time at my boyfriends’ houses that I hadn’t even considered it. Maybe just wrap some lights around the two columns on my porch?”

“I’m happy to do that for you. Where would I find the lights?”

“In the garage, hon. Right next to the snow blower.”

We quickly finished our cookies and got to work—Gray clearing her driveway and walkway while I untangled and tested the lights. It didn’t take us long to transform her house from snowed-in to open (and safe) for her many— many —visitors.

Before we left, Gray quietly confirmed that she would not be alone on Christmas, and that’s how we discovered that boyfriend number two was a big fan of assless chaps. Gray made arrangements to stop by whenever he saw that her place needed help, and we left her house only mildly scandalized.

I was still laughing as we reached the end of the neighborhood, and Gray pointed out a walking path. “This runs behind the houses and stops right behind my place.”

“Good to know.”

Gray efficiently directed Lunchbox and Sweetie onto the path. Instead of commanding Lunch to heel, he gave him more leash and was shockingly patient as my rogue mutt sniffed every goddamned tree and flower for all the dogs who’d been there before. Perhaps it was only shocking because I often lost my patience by the end of a walk, but Gray never once looked bothered, instead standing stoically as Lunch learned the walking trail.

“For someone who doesn't like animals, you sure are good with them.”

He wrinkled his nose. I was starting to learn his expressions, and I suspected this one meant that he was pleased by the compliment, but didn't want to accept it.

Adorable .

I shivered to think of what it would be like to uncover all of this man’s conflicting layers.

“Are you still cold?” he asked, stepping in closer.

I wasn't cold in the slightest, but neither was I above taking advantage of an opportunity.

“A little,” I said, leaning into him. “Next time I'll remember earmuffs.”

Gray stopped in the middle of the trail, hooking the leashes onto his wrist as he faced me. Thinning his lips, he adjusted the scarf so that one of the loops went over my head and around my ears.

Nice . That actually was warmer. And really fucking hot.

“Thanks,” I said, wrapping my arm around his elbow, just as I had done downtown.

He didn't pull away and instead continued down the path, letting Lunch and Sweetie sniff to their hearts’ content until another, bigger dog rounded the bend with their owner. He adjusted the leashes, made a clicking sound, and both dogs went straight back to his heel.

“Traitor,” I whispered to my snowy ball of fluff. Lunch looked up at me, his eyes bright, his tongue hanging out with an expression that seemed to say, “ And what of it? ”

A warm chuckle surprised me and I turned to find Gray laughing. His eyes sparkled and his smile was . . . wow .

“Are you making fun of me?” I asked, leaning into him.

“A little,” he said, tilting into my touch.

“Why?”

He pointed at Lunch and Sweetie. “Who spends thousands of dollars on dog training? There’s YouTube videos.”

“Do I look like the kind of person who has enough time for YouTube videos?”

“Yet . . . You came here for the Christmas season?”

I shook my head. “I'm actually not here for the Christmas season. I told you—I don't like Christmas. I'm working remotely to see if this is a good location for me. And Christmas Falls keeps coming up in best places to live polls. It would be foolish to overlook a place just because it goes a little crazy in December.”

“Great, that’s what we need,” he muttered. “More transplants from the big city.”

I tightened my arm around his. “Whatever. You think I'm delightful.”

Another laugh erupted from his chest.

“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” I complained, even as I cheered the fact that I could make Grumpy McGrumperson of Grumptown laugh.

“It’s a little funny,” he said, stopping again for Lunchbox’s explorations. “Looks like I need a doggy bag.”

“I'll take care of it,” I said, reaching into my pocket.

He rolled his eyes and stuck out his palm. For a guy who claimed to not like dogs, volunteering to pick up another dog’s poop was awfully suspicious.

I separated the bag and handed it to him. He cleaned up after my little ragamuffin without a complaint, and then tossed the bag into one of the neighborhood’s mini public trash cans.

“I really like the way this neighborhood encourages people to keep it clean.” I said as he pumped the hand sanitizer.

“All of the neighborhoods in Christmas Falls are like this.”

“The people who live here are lucky.”

He shook his head.

“Are you saying that you aren't lucky?”

“It’s not luck,” he asserted. “It’s involvement. These trash cans? The recycle bins everywhere? That’s because we all show up at city council meetings and make our voices heard.”

He squared his shoulders as he said that, and I realized something.

“The trash cans were your idea, weren’t they?”

“Maybe. But Miriam was the one who said that we should have hand sanitizer. Though...” He shook his head as he rolled his eyes. “She calls it hanitizer , because that’s what her grandson calls it.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “Oh my God, totally stealing that.”

He sighed, clearly disappointed in my lack of decorum.

We continued on the path that circled behind the neighborhood, and it was a beautiful walk. The way the snow had frosted the evergreens—especially with the partly cloudy, partly blue skies above us—was gorgeous.

“I swear, this place is magical,” I said as a few flurries drifted down.

Of course he’d been right about the snow.

“It is a good place,” Gray said.

“I noticed that it’s queer friendly,” I said, looking closely for his reaction. “It’s been nice to see rainbow flags interspersed with the Christmas decorations everywhere.”

“It is.” He went quiet for a moment. “I appreciate that this place has always felt safe to me.”

I was this close to pumping my fist but didn’t because I’m an adult.

“That why you're letting me hold your arm?”

A line appeared between his brows. “No. You’re cold, and I assumed that you needed the warmth of my body.”

I huffed. This guy.

“How is it that some lucky man hasn't already snatched you up?” I asked.

He shook his head as though I’d asked a stupid question. “I'm not the one that people go for. I go into Chicago from time to time, check out what’s happening on the apps. But . . .” More pausing and silence. “Nobody wants to date the asshole.”

I rolled my eyes. “No one thinks you're an asshole, Gray.”

He stopped in the middle of the path. “Don't do that. I get that you big corporate types lie like you’re breathing, but don't pretend that I’m better than I am.”

I blinked, surprised by his intense response. “I promise you, I'm not like that at all. I don't lie and I don't do things just because I feel like I should. I work hard to keep it real all the time. Even when it’s unpopular to do so.”

“Really?” He raised a brow.

“What? You don’t believe me?” I stepped back and crossed my arms over my chest.

“You had a panic attack in the bakery, Sun. You crash land into this town with your nickname and your bright personality, but you hate Christmas, and you get panic attacks. None of those details ever showed up in any of your Forbes articles.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You've read my Forbes articles?”

“Mostly against my will.”

I laughed, right in his face. “There’s no way in hell that you, Gray Frost, would do anything against your will.”

He clenched his jaw, which should not be sexy. At all. “I'm still right, though.”

I looked down at the path, which had gone white with snow.

“I’ll give you that. But not sharing everything with the public isn’t the same as lying.”

“That’s some pretty fine hair-splitting if you ask me.”

I pulled a face. “How do you mean?”

“People follow you on social media and in the business world because you're all about positivity. So, when you make all of this happy-go-lucky shit your brand and don't show the entire range of emotions that you're capable of, it causes harm.”

“How?” I asked, flabbergasted.

“When people have a bad day and they see your positive posts, they feel like they've done something wrong. And that’s not the truth.”

I drew my chin back. “I'm not trying to lie, Gray. I just think it’s important to have a positive mental attitude. There’s a lot of power in that.”

“Sure, I've read the studies,” he said, softening his voice. “But I also know that keeping it real also helps people when they're going through the shit.”

I swallowed hard. It was true—I had made positivity my entire brand. That said, one of the things I've noticed as my companies became successful was that it was harder and harder to find people who were willing to tell me the truth, especially if it was bad news. Baz was one of the few people I had left.

Maybe those two things were more related than I thought.

Gray’s words sat uncomfortably with me, but at least he’d been honest. So, I took a deep breath and grabbed the leash from him. Lunchbox immediately began lunging forward, and Gray shook his head.

“I assume I'm a disappointment to you. Not only am I not ‘sunny’ one hundred percent of the time, but I also can’t even control my own dog.”

“Why would that be disappointing?” he asked, taking the leash back from my hands. He clicked his tongue, and Lunch went to his heel immediately. “I just don't know why you think people wouldn't want to see all of you.”

“Said the guy who avoids people.”

“I'm not an extrovert,” he said, rather obviously, “but I do let people see who I am. You made fun of my corner booth in the Snowflake Shack, but Adam did it because he sees me.”

“It doesn't bother you?”

He dipped his chin. “I know the community loves me. So, I took it as a compliment.”

This guy.

I wanted to point out how this contradicted his earlier comment about being an asshole, but sensed he’d argue the point.

Gray handed me back the leash, and when Lunch went to lunge forward again, he commanded, “Lunch, heel.”

I shivered at the domination in his voice and Lunch looked back at him, then paused to let us catch up. More importantly, he remained at my heel.

After several yards, I looked down at my dog then looked up at Gray. “Impressive.”

“Dogs and people feel more comfortable when they have strong boundaries.”

“And you like for people to be comfortable, don't you?”

He lifted a shoulder, trying and failing to look casual. “It’s more that I don't want them to be uncomfortable.”

I wrapped my arm around his again. “And you figured out that being exactly who you are made people comfortable because it allowed them to be themselves, too, right?”

“Something like that.”

I cursed under my breath. “I hear what you're saying.”

His house showed up in the distance.

We walked in silence for a few more feet, then he asked, “Tell me again why you hate Christmas. I hate it because it feels like false cheer, but you said something about your mom dying?”

I sucked in my lips because even the mention of my mom sometimes still made me wanna cry.

“My apologies.” He rubbed his chest. “I didn't mean to upset you.”

“I'm not upset. I just . . . I know she would hate that Christmas is hard for me. She really made a big deal of it for me and Baz when we were growing up. Dad was hardly ever there, and he was gone more Christmases than not, but Mom always made it feel special. Still, even though I know she would want me to enjoy the season, I can’t quite . . . get there. You know?”

“I do know. You can't push something like that. But, if there’s a part of you that feels like enjoying the season is somehow betraying her, well. I didn’t know your mom, but I can already tell that you're wrong.”

Something about the solid way he said that made me laugh.

“Was that funny?”

“No, but . . .” I took a deep breath and let it out. I took another deep breath, letting this one out even more slowly.

Something like the sensation of an iceberg cracking off and floating away broke in my chest. Like that hurt I’d been holding onto so tightly didn't need to be there anymore.

“Well, shit. Did the town crank just fix Christmas for me?” I asked as a few tears slipped down my cheek.

He stopped, his head tilted to the side in puzzlement. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” With his free hand he thumbed away the moisture.

“These are happy tears, Gray,” I said, sniffling.

He stiffened. “I—I don't understand tears when you're happy.”

“It’s about the rush of emotion, the depth of it. Not whether or not it’s sad or happy.”

He nodded slowly, as if he were truly paying attention, trying to make it make sense. “I can maybe see that.”

We reached his back fence, and he opened the gate for us. As we passed through, I gestured at the large shed in his backyard. “What’s this?”

He rubbed the back of his head, looking away from me. “It’s, uh. My art studio. It’s climate controlled and I find it comforting to paint there.”

He didn’t offer to show me his studio, and, based on his bent posture, he didn’t want to.

“Oh, wonderful. Hopefully you can show me more of your art when you have a chance,” I said, walking past it as though I weren’t desperate to see more of the inside of his head.

“Uh, sure,” he said, losing some of the tension in his body. “You know, if you want to try and enjoy Christmas again, you have chosen the perfect time with the festival, and all of the Christmas-themed things we've got going on in this town. It’ll be hard to ignore the Christmas spirit.”

Ah, changing the subject. A time-honored distraction.

“Hard, but clearly not impossible,” I said, going with the switch as I squeezed his arm.

“I'm a rare breed,” he said with a vulnerable smile.

Yep. Gray Frost was the way opposite of an asshole.

“Seriously.” I stepped in front of him, stopping him before he could go up the back steps. “How has nobody ever snatched you up? You’re fantastic.”