Chapter Three

Wynter

My cheeks ache from the strain of a forced smile, but if Drake Hudson thinks he can dictate my every move, he’s sorely mistaken. “ Do it my way?” Please. This is my event, my company, andmy name on the line. It’s all going to be done my way. I just need to find the perfect angle to convince him everything I’m going to do is his idea.

Men.

“When can I get started?” I bat my lashes, using my ultra-sweet voice.

“Let me check my calendar.” He moves behind the desk.

My breath catches as I take in Drake. He’s tall, with a broad, muscular chest. His sandy brown hair is cropped short on the sides, with a wave of curls falling across his forehead. A full beard hugs the angular lines of his jaw. Up close, he’s stunning, with piercing pine-green eyes a girl could easily find herself lost in.

He exudes a quiet power tinged with intrigue. I can’t help but wonder what makes him tick.

“How does next Tuesday work?”

“That’s five days from now.”

“It is. However, that leaves you with two solid weeks to plan your party.”

“Party?” I wrinkle my nose. “I’m planning the annual Christmas festival. A festival is elaborate and complex; a party is just some balloons and a cake. Anyone can do that. My company, Sparkle and Company Events creates experiences. And that, Mr. Drake, is an art that takes time.”

“I see.” He folds his arms across his chest. “So you’re limited in your abilities.”

“Limited in my abilities? How dare you.”

“Well, if you can’t create an ‘experience’ in two weeks instead of nineteen days, doesn’t that suggest some limitations?”

My insides start to boil like molten lava. If I can’t keep my anger in check, I’m going to erupt—and that will definitely get me fired.

I exhale deeply, keeping a painted smile on my face to cover my murderous rage. “What time onTuesday works best for you, Mr. Hudson?”

“Nine in the morning is perfect. Shall I write it down for you?” He picks up a pencil, smirking.

I want to smack that smirk right off of his handsome face. “Yes, please.”

“There you are.”

I slide the business card in my purse. “Thank you. I will see you Tuesday at nine a.m. sharp.”

As I head for the exit, Drake calls out. “Don’t be late. I’m rearranging my schedule to meet your needs.”

Smoke must be pouring from my ears. All this time, I thought Drake was a moody loner, but it turns out I was wrong. He’s an arrogant imbecile.

“I’m never late, Mr. Hudson. I will see you Tuesday.”

As soon as I hit the sidewalk, I call Rachel. “Drake Hudson is the most pompous, patronizing halfwit on the planet.”

“What happened?”

“I’ll tell you what happened.” I stomp across the street to The Cozy Oven, craving something sweet after dealing with that library barbarian. “He spoke, that’s what happened.”

The bell tinkles over the door as I step inside, and instantly, I feel better, surrounded by the heavenly scent of cinnamon and spices.

“Where are you?”

“The Cozy Oven.” I gaze at the treats in the glass cases.

“I’m on my way. Order me a cinnamon swirl coffeecake and a latte.”

“You don’t have to, honey. I was just calling to vent.”

“Girl, if you think I’m going to miss out on all the spicy details of Drake the Cake, you’re crazy.”

“Drake the Cake?” I snort. “Who calls him Drake the Cake?”

“You’ve seen him up close and personal. The man is good enough to eat, isn’t he?”

“Well…”

“I knew it! You like him!”

“No, no, no. You’ve got this all wrong. Easy on the eyes, yes. But like him? Absolutely not. He’s a savage.”

“Be there in five, doll. I want to hear everything.”

I end the call and can’t help but smile as I picture Drake the Cake, shirtless, wearing a Santa hat and a bow tie.

“What can I get for you this morning?” the girl behind the counter asks.

“Cake,” I burst out laughing. “I’ll have cake. Because who wouldn’t want a slice of delicious goodness?”