Henry's Holiday Charade
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About this ebook
She has an emergency.
He needs a girlfriend.
Henry Caldecott is the reluctant heir to a successful hotel chain. Amanda Hill is trying to get through Christmas without any more debt. When they splash into each other at the chilly Cedarville Library pond, Henry sees the perfect opportunity to make a deal to survive the family Christmas party. All it takes is rescuing a chatty, hyper, damsel-in-distress, but Henry soon realizes Amanda is better than any debutante worthy of his snobby family's acceptance, and that he's the one in need of rescue.
A Frog Prince fairy tale-inspired Christmas novella perfect for a fun read anytime of the year.
Danielle Thorne
Danielle Thorne is the author of seven historical and contemporary adventures and more. From pirates to presidents, she loves to research and travel while writing poetry, novels, and non-fiction. Some of her work has appeared in places like Arts and Prose Magazine, Mississippi Crow, The Nantahala Review, StorySouth, and The Mid-West Review. She has co-chaired writing competitions for young authors and is active with several online author groups. A former editor for Solstice and Desert Breeze Publishing, Mrs. Thorne keeps a blog and enjoys meeting readers and writers around the world through conferences and social media. Currently, she is working on her next piece of pirate fiction. She is a BYU-Idaho graduate, youth leader, certified diver, half-hearted runner, and unofficial foodie. She lives south of Atlanta, Georgia, with a Mr. Thorne and cat named Finnigan. Visit her at www.daniellethorne.com.
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Henry's Holiday Charade - Danielle Thorne
CHAPTER ONE
Amanda Hill dashed through the library doors into the rays of the wintry Georgia sunshine for the second time. She’d set off the security alarm on her first try, because she’d forgotten to check one of the videos out. She breathed with relief and lifted her face to the pale sky. The early December air felt cool, but the persistent sunshine warmed her skin.
Sighing with satisfaction, she skipped across the pebbled concrete toward the fish pond and the parking lot on the other side of it. A small Japanese garden with lily pads and koi had turned the once plain courtyard into a wonderful place to read. Amanda wondered how the giant orange goldfish in the pond would survive during the winter months. Concerned, she walked toward the arched bridge over the water. The koi always came up to the surface to greet her, and they never stared, frowned, or hissed, "Shh!" when her cell phone buzzed.
She stopped on the quaint bridge, shuffled the videos up under one arm, and leaned over the railing. Hello, my lovelies.
Two orange and white spotted fish darted up to the surface and ogled her. She wished she’d remembered to bring a handful of dry cat food from the shelter for them. Of course, she’d forgotten again.
So sorry,
she called to the aquatic visitors. Bristling at a sharp breeze that lifted the arms of a nearby willow tree, she wrinkled her nose. A slight fishy smell permeated the air. I forgot your treats. I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached.
Winds shuffled the trees and long grasses again, and she shivered. The thin cashmere sweater she’d borrowed from Tass wasn’t warm enough after all, but it looked nice. She scrunched the top of the cardigan tighter around her neck, forgetting the two videos tucked under her arm.
Wrong move.
The movies slid from her grasp. She juggled her phone, keys, and purse in the air while trying to stop the movie cases from falling into the pond. It was no good. They fell in-between the railing and splashed down into the water, scattering fish in every direction.
No!
Amanda’s other things plunked down safely onto the bridge, but it was of little solace. She put her hands over her face and squeezed her eyes shut. There wasn’t any extra cash to pay for ruined videos. If she had money, she’d be at the theater, not checking out old movies to entertain herself on a Friday night.
Amanda opened her eyes, and her heart sank into the gloom of the wintery pond. It wasn’t that deep, but deep enough, not to mention dark, cold, muddy, slimy, and wet. There was no sign of the movies. They’d sunk into the murky depths.
She stood frozen on the bridge, nauseated and hot on the inside. What would the librarians say when they found out that she’d lost them? She already had overdue fees she’d promised to pay next week, and they’d let it slide. Again.
The warm sunshine did nothing to cheer the cool air now. Why had she been so reckless as to try to hold onto someone else’s movies with an armpit? It’s a Wonderful Life? Nope. Poor George Bailey was in the murky depths of the Cedarville Library pond. Elf? He wouldn’t find it cheerful that life didn’t end at the North Pole but with the fishes.
Amanda heaved a defeated sigh, wondering how many days she had before the warning emails trickled in demanding the movies back. She’d have to come clean to the librarians eventually. Last year, she’d spilled chocolate milk from a bowl of cereal all over the paperback of The Devil Wears Prada. She’d been trying to finish it, really she had, but books were hard for her to finish when there was a due date. Deadlines stressed her out.
What am I going to do?
she asked aloud. She dropped her forehead onto her arms in defeat. The koi offered no solutions.
Go for a swim?
a deep voice suggested.
Gah!
Amanda spun around with a startled jerk.
The young man behind her took a step back in surprise.
Sorry.
She put a hand on her heart to slow it down.
I didn’t mean to scare you.
The familiar-looking stranger straightened his trendy tortoise shell-rimmed glasses. Gleaming azure eyes contrasted with the frames and dark, ruffled hair. She’d noticed him in the library. They’d made eye contact. Once.
Embarrassed, Amanda shrugged. You saw that.
It was hard to miss.
He stepped up beside her and peered into the pond.
It looks like they’re gone for good.
Amanda rapped the railing with her fist and winced at the pain. They can’t be! I just paid off the last video I lost, and then there was the devil book...
His eyes widened in surprise, and she realized she was making a terrible impression.
"The Devil wears Prada..."
He looked confused. Okay.
It’s a book.
If you say so.
Amanda huffed. Thanks for your help, but I can figure this out.
I’m sure you can.
Eyeglasses leaned over the rail and studied the water.
Unless you can think of a way...
Amanda said with desperation.
Maybe I can.
He glanced at her in a way that made her feel wary, then he cleared his throat. I’m Henry.
He stood straight for a moment then held out his hand.
Amanda grinned and took it. He seemed nice. Ish. I’m Amanda. Now, tell me you have an idea, because all I can think of doing is taking my shoes off and jumping in.
I do,
said her new friend. That water is freezing, and there’s pond scum everywhere, so it’ll be a cold mess.
He leaned over the rail again, calculating some mysterious solution she couldn’t fathom. Excited, Amanda crossed her arms over herself to hear him out. She darted a glance toward the library doors, hoping none of the librarians saw what happened or would see what might happen next. A fishing pole?
she guessed. A magnet.
Henry’s gaze left its contemplation of the water and studied her. Do you ever stop talking?
What?
Even though she was used to people being put off by her boisterous nature, his remark stung.
Henry winced as if reading her thoughts. I’m sorry,
he mumbled. He put his hands on his hips and looked down at his old jeans. They were ripped at one knee, and one of his tired gray tennis shoes had a rubber tip that curled back. It’s just I that I heard you in there,
he motioned back toward the library, a few times.
Amanda felt irritation simmer beneath her surface. His clothes looked ragged, almost dirty, and he needed a shave like yesterday. Who was he to criticize her for dropping a few things into a pond? And she did not talk too much. She just spoke out at inappropriate times, accidentally or on impulse, like an electric jolt.
Look,
she said, offense brewing in her stomach, sometimes I talk to myself.
I’ll get the videos.
He said it so kindly she instantly forgave him.
He nodded at her speechlessness. I’ll get them, since I’m taller and not dressed up.
Realizing she had on new heels and Tass’s expensive sweater, Amanda’s shoulders folded in relief. She preferred solving her own problems, she just wasn’t good at doing it alone, at least without a sounding board. Besides, she always seemed to do everything the wrong way the first time. A cold pond had no room for mistakes.
Her mind raced for some kind of compensation. "I have a Dr. Who collector’s edition Pop in my car. We can trade."
Henry’s mouth twitched to fight back a smile. He didn’t meet her gaze, but watched his own feet as he slipped one shoe off and then kicked off the other. I’m not into Bobbleheads, but I’ll make you a deal.
His voice crackled on deal. I’ll jump down there, dig out the movies, take them home and clean them off, and get them turned back in for you tomorrow.
Oh, thank you!
Amanda wrapped the sweater around herself again. She didn’t want to watch any old movies anyway. It wasn’t exactly Christmas yet, it never snowed until February, and no movies was better than another library fee added onto her tab.
Great.
Henry gave her a slow smile. He was in his bare feet now. They were long and narrow but still tanned from the previous summer. He didn’t seem uncomfortable in the fifty-something degrees. The water would be another thing.
Amanda grinned. Okay. So, what do you want from me?
I want you to be my girlfriend.
Few things could bring Amanda to a screeching halt, but this did. With a smile still etched on her face, she drew in a shaky breath. Her brain tumbled around for a reply.
Henry broke the sudden, awkward silence by clearing his throat. I know it sounds weird.
Amanda gave a little laugh. She should have known. She had no stranger danger radar. Why can’t I... Why would you...?
Henry held up his hand. It’s not what you think.
Then what is it?
Amanda swallowed. Do you normally walk up to strangers and ask them to start up a serious relationship out of the blue?
She put her hands on her hips. Oh, she was just warming up.
I have a... little problem.
Amanda raised her brows, but tried to calm herself. Deep down, a small part of her wanted to give him a chance to explain. Besides, she needed those videos.
It’s not for real, it’s just an act. I need someone to think I have a girlfriend through Christmas. All you have to do is connect with me on social media, go to a Christmas party, and uh... one family dinner.
Amanda felt her eyes widen. You've got to be kidding.
She looked around for someone with a camera filming the joke.
He shrugged. "I know it sounds complicated,