When You Were Mine (Mistletoe and Silver Foxes #2)

Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

While Trevor drove, Jessica pretended to be engrossed in something on her laptop screen.

But she wasn’t seeing words or colors or pendant hanging lights.

She was back in the café.

You’re my calling .

Of all the things he’d said over the past two days, that was the one that hit home.

I don’t care how it sounds. I don’t care what anyone thinks. The only thing I’ve ever wanted is to be with you.

He’d changed the landscape when he’d said it with such plain-spoken, raw honesty.

It rocked her world. Because if she believed him—and she did—it meant… Well, it meant they’d have a future.

If she wanted one.

Every minute spent with him hacked away at her walls. That distance she kept talking about? Every story they told, every memory they shared, erased it.

And that scared the crap out of her.

Because now what would keep her heart safe? What was to stop her from falling in love with him all over again?

Even worse, she knew she’d never fallen out of love.

If you had, you’d have felt indifference. You’d have stopped thinking about him.

Instead, she’d carried fury, loathing, anguish… Yep, all the passionate emotions.

She glanced out the window. Over the last hour, they’d driven along the shoreline, through tunnels, and across miles of farmland.

She’d managed to get some work done, of course. Even though they had more time to plan now, Chris knew he wanted to hire the Westman Island chef, so she’d sent him an email and added his wife to the list of pastry chefs to interview. She’d talked to a dozen Pullman family members who were as friendly as Chris and Darby. All were ready to get to work.

A text came in.

Chris: Sommelier’s a no. She’s unwilling to leave her job in Reykjavik to come out to “the middle of nowhere.” She said she’d “wait and see if the place turns into something” before she’ll consider it.

“Crap.” Her voice cracked the silence.

Jessica: There are plenty of sommeliers in the world. We’ll find someone even better.

Chris: I like your attitude.

Jessica: But now that there’s no wedding, we’re in no rush.

Chris: True. You mad about that? I promise I didn’t know. My sister didn’t tell me until we got in the car to see my poor father who’d fallen down a set of imaginary stairs.

Jessica: Not at all. I’ve hit everything on my to-do list. It’s all good.

Chris: Let me know how it goes with Piers.

Jessica: Will do.

She set her phone in the cup holder.

“Everything okay?” Trevor’s deep voice hit her core in the most delicious way.

Had she always been this affected by it? She didn’t remember, but she liked uncovering new aspects to their relationship. “The sommelier doesn’t want to work out in the sticks.”

“You said she’s the only one in the country, so it’s not unexpected, right?”

She nodded. “We’ll find someone.”

Snow flurries hit the windshield, and he flicked on the wipers. “Look at that. It’s already started.” His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “How many resorts of your own have you opened?”

“Sweetwater’s my third—and last.”

“Why last?”

“Working with unreliable vendors and contractors, irrational people, living out of a suitcase…it’s just a lot, and I’m ready to slow down.”

“What will that look like for you?” he asked. “How will you spend your time?”

“Well, I’m still going to be involved. I love it. It’s truly the best thing I’ve ever done. But I never want to live in a hotel again, so I’d like to buy a place of my own. Nothing big. But…peaceful.”

“In Calamity, right?”

“Well, I dragged my entire family out there, so I’d better stay.” She laughed.

He had a wistful expression. “That was always the difference between us. You understood that spending time with your family was what kept them together. I thought it was giving them financial security.”

“But you know now, and that’s what matters. You have the rest of your life to give your son what you failed to give him the first half of his life.”

He reached for her hand and just as he squeezed it, the car jerked. “Shit.” Eyes on the road, he turned into the slide. He wasn’t going too fast, so he easily corrected. “Ice patch.”

The sky was darkening, and flurries turned to a steady snowfall.

“Maybe we should pull over.” On one side of the highway, a scrubby field led down to a slate-gray ocean. The other side was mountainous. There wasn’t a house in sight.

“Yeah, it’s not safe to drive.”

“Let me text Piers and see if there’s a hotel or restaurant up ahead. Maybe get a coffee.”

“Sounds good.”

Jessica: Hey, the storm’s coming in faster than we expected. The roads are icy, so we think it’s best to get off the road. GPS says we’re thirty-two minutes away from you.

Piers: Good idea.

Jessica: Is there anything out here? Hotel, restaurant, gas station?

Piers: Unfortunately, you won’t see civilization for another twenty minutes. Have you passed an orange lighthouse?

“Did we see an orange lighthouse?” she asked Trevor.

“No, but I wasn’t paying attention.”

Jessica: We didn’t notice one.

Piers: You would’ve seen it. Okay, listen. The highway’s going to make a slow curve around to the left. You’ll see the lighthouse at the end of the promontory.

Jessica: Got it. Will look out for it.

Piers: It’s closed for the winter, but I know the family that owns it. Let me call them, and they’ll open it for you.

Jessica: It’s so close to Christmas. I don’t want to bother anyone.

Piers: They won’t want you on the highway during a snowstorm. Plus, it’s a hotel in the summer, so it’s set up for guests. Stay the night if you need to.

Jessica: Oh, no. I have a?—

But she didn’t bother sending it. What could he do about it? “I’m going to miss my flight.”

“It’s possible. But we should be able to get you out first thing in the morning.”

“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. Everything might be booked.”

“Elzy?”

She glanced at him.

“I’ll get you on a flight the moment the runways are cleared.”

She smiled. “The perks of being a movie star?”

“Yep.”

“No wonder you wouldn’t change anything.”

“Hey, now. I said I wouldn’t change anything because of Cole. Not because I can afford to charter a jet.”

“What about getting a reservation in a fancy restaurant that’s booked a year in advance?”

He hunched a shoulder. “Eh. I don’t call that one in very often.”

“But you probably get the presidential suite in every hotel you book?”

“Now, that’s a nice perk. Yes, I’m beginning to see your point.”

She laughed. “And you probably get backstage passes to all your favorite bands. And they’d probably open Disneyland just for you and your granddaughters.”

“Probably. But I haven’t pulled shit like that.”

“Oh, come on. Not once have the words, ‘Do you know who I am?’ come out of your mouth?”

He gave her a chiding look. “Not one time.”

“Well, that’s because you don’t need to. You have this magical energy field around you. When you walk by, doors open and flowers bloom. Little fairies follow you, sprinkling their pixie dust all over the land.”

“Yeah.” He laughed. “That glitter gets fucking everywhere.”

“You have to admit you lead a charmed life. While the rest of us have bad hair days and clogged toilets, you’re untouched by it all.”

“Is that right? You think there’s a plumber living in a wing of my mansion? An entire staff of handymen playing cards and smoking cigars waiting around until I need them to fix the broken garbage disposal?” His good mood was flagging.

“Don’t you?”

“You know how I grew up. I can change a flat, fix a plow, birth a calf, and duct tape a pair of Converse All-Stars.”

“Ooh, I love a handy man.”

“Handy or handsy?” he asked.

“Now that depends on whose hands.”

“Fair point.”

“Did you do your own stunts?” she asked.

“Absolutely. That was the fun part.”

“So, you’re telling me, you actually landed in a pile of manure?”

He grinned. “Exactly how many times did you watch each of my films? Did you take notes?”

“Well, let’s be honest. Some moments were more memorable than others.”

“Like me landing in a heap of pig shit?” he asked.

“That was particularly satisfying. So was the time that woman slapped you. You cheating son of a bitch.”

“That shit stung.” He touched a hand to his cheek. “But—and I hate to break it to you— Titanic was filmed in a pool. And nothing on the table in banquet scenes is actual food. It’s created by an artist. Sex is simulated and supervised by an intimacy coordinator. Oh, and whiskey is actually iced tea.”

“Wait just a minute. In a pool? So, it wasn’t actually freezing, and Kate and Leonardo weren’t in the middle of the ocean? My God. How else can you shatter my illusions and take all the fun away from movies?”

“The food in the great hall of my films was cast in resin. And for close-ups, they invent weird concoctions to make it look real. Like an ice cream sundae might be mashed potatoes covered in motor oil.”

“Well, thank you, Trevor. Thank you for sucking all the magic out of it.” She reached for the car door handle. “I think we’re done here.”

“Hey, you asked. But that’s my point. You can keep insisting my life’s nothing but roses and sunshine, but it just isn’t true. My reality isn’t what it looks like on social media. No one’s is.”

“You’re right. And I’m sorry I keep doing that.”

“I get it. You want to hold on to your idea of me. But I’m not the inexperienced guy who left and never looked back. I’m someone who once loved every single part of you, who never wanted to hurt you—never wanted to live without you. I just fucked up, Elz. I fucked up, and I’m trying to make it right. I’m trying to get us back.”

“I’m not sure it’s possible.”

“Well, then, prepare yourself. Because I’ll die trying.”

How could she not smile at a statement like that? She whacked him on the arm. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“Which means?”

“You’re a passionate man who goes after what he wants.”

“Nothing wrong with that, right? But the important piece is whether he get s what he wants.”

“It sure looks like it,” she muttered. Because she genuinely liked this man. And the more time she spent with him, the harder it was to deny their crackling connection. It was his touch, sure, but it was also the energy in their conversation. She didn’t have that with anyone else.

He was right. His insistence on clearing up the misunderstandings and offering a true picture of his life and his experiences was breaking down her defenses. Affection was pouring in through every crack and hole.

“One of the extras used to hang out in my trailer, and we’d talk about everything under the sun. He talked about the multiverse and how we’re living countless lives at the same time. And it gave me comfort that somewhere, on some mystical plane, I was living my life with you. Most nights before I fell asleep, I dreamed about it.” He shook his head. “I figured it was probably bullshit, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to get there. How the fuck do I get to that plane of existence where we’re together?”

Tears burned the backs of her eyes, and a painful knot formed in her throat. “What did it look like? Our life together.”

“We had a ranch in Calamity.”

Of course we did. “Robbers Roost.”

“We took long hikes. I built us a tree swing.”

“You better put a cushion on it. They’re not as comfortable as they look.”

“You think I want my girl to have a sore ass? Of course, I did.” He smiled.

My girl. She liked that. It made her feel all warm and soft inside.

Something struck her. From the moment he walked out of that motel room, she’d gone hard. All that bad-bitch energy she applied to tackling a newborn and building a career had kept her locked in it.

But it was Trevor who allowed her to be soft. And that was really nice.

“I pictured us cooking together,” he continued. “Laughing a lot. Spending our nights in front of a roaring fire.”

“Reading or talking?”

“Talking. Making out.”

“Seriously, that’s what we’re doing?” she asked. “We’re ‘making out’?”

“Hey, I was giving you the romantic version. You want the truth? Fine. We were fucking. There was a lot of fucking going on in my dreams.”

She laughed. “Were we poor?”

“You know, I didn’t really go there. I was mostly thinking of where to hide a rubber spider. My favorite is in your slipper, so you’d feel something with your toes.”

“Jerk. Did I retaliate?”

“Oh, hell yeah. It’s become a thing. We’ve done it for years. I got more creative about it. You…” He grimaced. “Not so much.”

Her laughter filled the car. “Do we have kids?”

“Yeah. Lots of them.”

The ache in her heart had her smile fading. “I’ll bet you’re a great dad.”

“The best. You want to know why?”

She nodded.

“Because you taught me how to be there for them. How to listen. You taught me what they need most is me, my time. I learned from your example to give them what I needed from my parents but never got.”

Tears spilled a hot trail down her cheeks. Her heart could barely stand the life they’d missed out on. She would’ve loved it.

“There it is,” he said.

They’d reached the curve in the road, and a bright orange lighthouse rose tall in the mist. She texted Piers.

Jessica: We see it.

Piers: Great. Door’s unlocked. Clean towels on the counter. He’s already got a fire going.

Jessica: Amazing! How do we pay him?

Piers: He’s not looking for payment. It’s just one night.

Jessica: Thank you so much! We appreciate this more than you know!

Piers: Will I see you tomorrow?

She glanced at Trevor, believing he’d do anything to get her home to her family for Christmas Eve.

Jessica: I don’t think so. Let’s talk in January, and then, I’ll come back in the spring.

Piers: Sounds good. Merry Christmas!

Jessica: Merry Christmas!

The driveway had not been plowed, so it was impossible to see where they were going. Trevor white-knuckled the wheel, concentrating on getting them as close to the lighthouse as possible.

“I wonder where the family lives.” She unbuckled as soon as he cut the engine. “I haven’t seen any sign of life out here.”

“Go on inside. I’ll grab our bags.”

That morning after breakfast, they’d bought a few essentials like underwear and toiletries, so they were set for the basics. And Trevor got a parka and gloves—thank goodness for that.

Too bad they hadn’t thought to buy some food. She clutched the neckline of her coat and dashed up the steps. Icy wind whipped her face.

She held the door open, waiting for Trevor, who had his arms loaded with bags. He rushed inside, and she slammed the brutal wind out behind him.

“Damn.” He stomped his shoes on the welcome mat.

Part of her still lingered in the multiverse world he’d created for them, so she didn’t respond. She couldn’t. It was too sweet, too perfect.

But also, unbearably sad to think of all they’d missed out on.

“Look at this place,” he said.

The bottom floor of the lighthouse had a welcome desk, a few chairs, and a coffee and tea station. Empty, of course. But she found a note on the counter.

Welcome to the Rán Lighthouse!

We’re very happy to host you. Please make yourself at home. I’ve set out fresh towels, sheets, and extra blankets in the Bird’s Eye Room at the very top—that’s for our most special guests—and I’ve left some toiletries in the bathroom. We turned on utilities, so you should already have hot water.

When you leave, please text Piers to let us know.

Merry Christmas!

“That’s so nice of them.” As she reached for some of the bags, she heard tires crunching over ice. “Who could that be?”

Trevor set his load down to answer the knock at the door. A woman with a wool hat and puffy, bright orange coat stood there with several insulated bags. “Welcome. I brought you some food.”

“That’s so nice of you.” Jessica hurried over. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Three children came in behind her, arms full of goodies. “It’s nearly Christmas, and you’re stranded. We wanted to.”

“Thank you.” Trevor relieved the kids of their offerings. “This is very kind of you.”

“You’re welcome,” the woman said. “This should tide you over, but if you need anything else, just let me know. I’ve taped my phone number to the red bag. Now, don’t try to clean up when you leave. Treat it like any hotel room you’d stay in. Okay, we’ll be off. Be safe.”

“I don’t even know how to thank you for your generosity.” Jessica walked them to the door. “By the way, what does Rán mean?”

“It’s the Norse goddess of water.” The woman headed out, and the kids followed her.

“She lures sailors into her watery depths,” the oldest child’s voice got snatched away by the wind.

“And she catches them in her net,” another called.

“Rán means robber,” the littlest said.

Jess waved goodbye and then closed the door behind them. She turned back to Trevor. “Of course it does.”

“What could be more fitting for a couple of outlaws from Wyoming?” Even as he tried for levity, he was watching her carefully.

Because this man could read her like a book, and he had to sense her sadness. But what was the point in dwelling on all they’d lost? They had this moment. And who knew what the future might bring? She reached for the insulated totes. “Can you believe they did all this? I wonder what they brought us.”

“Let’s go find out.” Trevor loaded up.

“I mean, if we had to get stuck in a snowstorm, this is the way to go, am I right?” There. She sounded normal. Fun.

“You got that right.” He led the way to the elevator.

They loaded everything and then settled in for the ride to the top. They were alone in a little box filled with the scents of roasted meat and warm bread. “That world I described of us?”

See, he did know her. She nodded.

“We can have it.”

“Oh, well, I’m not going to have nine children with you.”

“What about grandkids? Grand nieces and nephews? Cousins, aunts, uncles, in-laws. We can have the big family we always wanted. It’ll just look a little different.”

She smiled because his endless optimism and his absolute confidence in their future made her unabashedly happy.

And now, she was completely alone with him in a lighthouse on the southern coast of Iceland.

Whatever will we do to pass the time?