Christmas In The City (Imperfect Match 1.50)
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Songbird
Penny Reid & LH Cosway
Two lonely souls find companionship in Dublin for one magical night. Broderick Adams doesn't mind his solitude, until she walks in. Ophelia Kelly sings to heal her heart, but has no idea he's listening.
Copyright © 2019 by L.H. Cosway and Penny Reid.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
1
Ophelia
“Ophelia! Did you hear me?”
“I—what?” Shaking myself from a daydream, my lashes fluttered as Sally—my supervisor—came back into focus.
A small, crooked smile curved her lips to one side. “Off in fairy land again.”
“No. At the Grammys, actually,” I mumbled, but she heard me.
Loud and sudden laughter filled the air, her ruddy cheeks sharp beneath tired yet twinkling eyes. “Goodness gracious. Fancy yourself the next Queen Bee, do you?” Her laughter redoubled and she wiped at her eyes. “Well, when you’re finished with the red carpet, Beyoncé, could you bring those bags with you on your way out?”
I glanced to where she’d gestured and found black bin bags, wrinkling my nose at the unpleasant smell wafting from them and irked that the morning-shift hadn’t already moved them to the bin.
As a maid at one of Dublin’s most prestigious five-star hotels, I earned €9.80 an hour and I spent most of my wages on rent. There wasn’t much left over for luxury, but my dreams kept me going. While I changed beds, cleaned toilets, and vacuumed—heck, even while I lay in my bottom bunk each night, my bed mate snoring overhead—I’d imagine myself somewhere else, usually fabulous, and usually completely ridiculous. For example, this evening as I clocked off from my shift for the night, in my head I was walking on stage to accept my Grammy.
This is so unexpected. Never in a million years did I think I’d be standing here in front of you all…
I’d be gracious and humble as I took my award then re-joined my husband, Henry Cavill, who sat in the audience. He’d spend the evening gazing at me lovingly, then we’d go home to our million-dollar penthouse and make love on our 1000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets.
Okay, so I was more likely to be the one washing those sheets, but I’d rather live in my fantasies these days than do just about anything else. At least in my fantasies my hefty, long blonde hair was in something other than a bun or a single, plain braid.
Speaking of which, I need a haircut.
“Ophelia? The bags?” my supervisor prompted me
again, not ungently. Sally wasn’t a bad sort, always quick with a laugh and mostly fair—except when it came to the day-shift supervisor who I suspected she was sweet on.
“Sure, no problem,” I answered. “I just wish the day-shift took out their trash for once.”
Sally chuckled loudly. “Be careful what you wish for, Ophelia, especially on Christmas. It might just come true.”
“In that case, I take it back. If my wish is going to come true, I better ask for something a lot better than for people to dispose of their own garbage.”
Sally shook her head in amusement as I lugged the bags out the staff entrance and tossed them in the giant thrash container behind the building, which smelled even worse.
“Thanks so much, love.” Her voice said from behind me and I heard the locks clicking into place.
I turned, dusting my hands off on my jeans. “Well, if there’s nothing else, I ‘spose I’ll be going.”
“Course.” Sally nodded briskly, shivering and glancing up at the starry sky. “Snow in the forecast. Take care and stay warm.”