Judy Christenberry - Snowbound With Mr Right

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

SALLY ROGERS was standing in the window of the Bailey General Store, trying to attain a more attractive display. She was beginning to think it was a lost cause when an idea suddenly struck her. As she began to change the window, she was interrupted by a gentleman she had noticed entering the store earlier.

“Excuse me. I’m looking for the owner of the store.”

She looked over her shoulder to see a tall, dignified man, younger than she expected, waiting for her attention.

“Why?” she asked, feeling a little bothered at being interrupted.

“Because I have business to discuss with him.”

“Sorry, not right now. The store owner is very busy at the moment,” she said. It had been a long day and Sally was tired. She had a lot on her plate with the business, not to mention that she was still coming to terms with the devastating deaths of her parents. Suddenly the store had been left in her hands and she was finding all the decisions to be made to be almost too much.

“I’m sorry, miss, but I don’t think that’s your decision,” the man said sternly.

Sally stepped down from the window, pushing a long strand of blond hair behind an ear. “Actually, yes, it is, and you’re interrupting. I just figured out what to do with the window and I really don’t have time to stop and talk to you now.”

“You?” the man asked in shock. “You’re the owner?”

“Yes, I’m the owner.” Sally started across the store looking for the item that she knew would work in the window.

To her surprise, the man followed her. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m getting the stepladder. It’s going in the window.”

“The stepladder? Why?” the man questioned.

Sally gave him a wry smile; she obviously wasn’t going to get rid of him that easily. “Well, if you must know, I’m going to use it to display some shirts in the window. It needs some vertical lift.” She reached for the ladder, but before she could pick it up the man lifted it out of Sally’s hands.

“Allow me to carry it for you. And I agree, by the way, this will display the shirts well.”

Sally was now getting very annoyed by this man and stood staring at him. “Thank you for offering, but I can carry it myself.”

The man smiled at her, obviously not planning on letting Sally win. “Look, I need to talk to you and you are very busy. I’m here, I might as well help out.”

Sighing, Sally led the way back across the store to the front window display. She stepped up into the window and then reached for the ladder as he held it up to her. Spreading the legs of the ladder apart she began to hang the shirts on different levels, until she was at last happy with the display.

When she had finished, Sally went outside to see how her efforts looked from the customers’ point of view. To her surprise, she found the stranger right beside her as she evaluated the window.

“Nice job. Um, how long have you owned the store?”

“Not long, just since the deaths of my parents.”

The man looked at the ground. “No wonder my ownership information wasn’t accurate.”

Sally said quietly, “Did your ownership information list Bob Rogers as the owner?”

“Yes, that’s right. I take it that was your dad?”

“I inherited it when my parents died.”

The man stared at Sally. She shrugged. “Sorry, I should’ve said it more politely, but it’s still hard for me to—to go into detail with people. Both my parents were killed in a car crash, along with my aunt and uncle. I’ve been owner of Bailey’s General Store ever since.”

“Then what I have to say—I mean, of course you may not want to hold to the agreement. I guess we can talk about it, but I think—”

“Look, I’m tired and I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sally said with a sigh.

“Your father didn’t tell you I’d be coming here?”

Sally turned to stare at the man. He looked like he belonged in a GQ ad, not standing in her country store. “My father? How would my father have known that you were coming?”

The man shifted, suddenly looking a little uncomfortable. “He and my grandfather struck up a deal.”

“Your grandfather? Who is your grandfather?”

“Wilbur Hunt, of the Hunt Corporation out of Denver.” The young man looked as if he expected Sally to be impressed.

“I don’t believe I found any letters from the Hunt Corporation for any reason when I went through my father’s papers. Certainly not dealing with an arrangement that would—what kind of a deal?”

“I was to work here in the store for your father for the second half of the month.”

Sally stared at him as if he’d spoken a second language. “You must be kidding. That’s ridiculous!”

“Why is it ridiculous?”

“Because my father has—had enough help for Christmas.”

“He wasn’t going to pay me a salary. My grandfather had talked to your father about selling the store.” He held up his hand when she would’ve interrupted him. “Your father refused to even consider selling. But because of the amount of business you do, my grandfather thought I might find out good information if we decided to branch out into smaller stores across the state.”

“So my father could teach you how to put us out of business? My father wouldn’t do that,” Sally responded.

“No, they had an agreement that we wouldn’t take over any store, or open a new store, within your area.”

“I didn’t find any such agreement.”

“I believe it was a gentleman’s agreement.”

“I don’t think my father would settle for that. It would have to be in writing. And if not for him, then for me. I wouldn’t allow you to work here unless you signed a non-compete clause.”

“Sally?” a voice called from the back of the store.

“Coming,” she returned. With an apologetic smile, she said, “I have to go see what’s wrong. Excuse me.”

When she got to the back room, she found her employee, Billy Johnson, standing, looking puzzled.

“What is it, Billy?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with these things, Sally.”

She looked at the stack of boxes. They each held jeans. “You put these on the shelves in the men’s department, Billy. See? It’s jeans.”

“But some of them are girls’ jeans.”

Sally smiled. “Then you put those in the women’s department. Here, I’ll separate them for you.”

Billy had worked in the store for over twenty years. He was a good worker, but at almost seventy he often got a little confused over things. Her dad had said Billy was the hardest worker he’d ever known and he could still be relied on to lift the heavier loads that Sally couldn’t manage.