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Apparently, calling holiday movies cheesy in front of a Christmas Network location scout is a real faux pas.
“You don’t like holiday movies?” I ask.
“I don’t like the holidays. Period. The entire point of the holidays these days is driving dollars into big business and it’s so…commercial.” Her voice drips with disgust, and I try to keep my eye-bugging in check.
“The true meaning of the holidays isn’t commercialism. It’s a feeling, deep-down inside you. Good cheer and family time and love.”
“Maybe you should audition for the Christmas Network,” Ivy says, the corner of her mouth tipping up in a smirk.
I shrug. “Spend enough time in Candy Cane Key and you’ll get the very same feeling.”
“Doubtful.” She fiddles with a leather tassel on her bag as Scott shakes his head, giving me a ‘told-you-so’ look behind her back.
“Here we are.” I slide behind the row of rental cars at the Sugar Plum Inn, parking the golf cart.
Lark, one of the inn’s owners, is going to have to hire a valet or something because the driveway isn’t big enough to hold all these vehicles and they can’t all park on Snow Street for two months.
Scott hops out first, then Ivy follows, brushing past Scott and making her way up to the inn. I try not to stare at the perky peach of her ass as she sashays up the driveway.
“Guess the Ice Queen expects the valet to fetch her luggage,” Scott mutters, unlatching her suitcase and hauling it off the pile. He dutifully wheels the white case up the drive toward the inn, and I stare after the two of them in amazement.
Hollywood folks are definitely different.
I hang out by the golf cart, waiting for Scott to return, enjoying the bright sunshine and the sound of the waves in the distance.
“Dude. She’s, like, the worst.” Scott hustles down the driveway, running a hand through his close-cropped hair before hopping back into the golf cart. “I can’t believe I have to deal with her. Again. I totally get why the network wants to drop her.”
“Really? She seems like she’d be a perfect lead actress.” I fold myself back into the leather seat.
“Nuh-uh. This movie’s a gift. She’s lucky Blaise dropped out. Rumor around town is this could be Ivy’s last chance. So she better shape up that crappy attitude real quick.”
“She wasn’t all that bad, Scott.”
“Give it time. You’ll see what I’m talking about when you’re on set.”
The movie involves a boat, and Scott worked it out to where the network will be using Banks Charters, with me as the captain.
Not gonna lie, I’m looking forward to the entire experience. Even more so now that I’ve met Ivy Winters.
Because there are two things I love in this world—Christmas and a challenge. And I do believe Ivy fits that exact bill.
By the end of July, I’ll have Ivy Winters singing fa-la-la-la all the way down Snow Street—and liking it.
3
IVY
“Welcome to the Sugar Plum Inn!”A perky receptionist waves at me from behind a quaint white desk.
“Thanks. I’m Ivy Winters. I believe my agent booked me a room here.”
“Ivy Winters…” The woman taps away on a laptop, searching for my reservation. “Ah, yes, we have you in the Nutcracker suite.”
Of course they do.
“Great.” I take the gold key she slides across the desk, circa the early 1900s.
“It’s up the stairs, third door on the right.” She leans across the desk and whispers, “It’s one of our nicest rooms. I love your movies. I’m Lark, by the way. If you need anything, give me a jingle.”
