Chapter 20
twenty
. . .
Rosalie
Deck the Halls… or Your Ex-Boyfriend
I find myself wishing that I were currently back in Cedar Ridge, having fun with Wells and his family, and not in the kitchen at Sweet Sullivan’s.
Three days ago, I was having incredible, mind-blowing sex and laughing until my stomach hurt.
But now, I’m two seconds away from having a full-blown panic attack, which honestly should be a crime when surrounded by so much festive Christmas cheer.
I’m the problem, it’s me.
No, actually, my asshole of an ex-boyfriend is the problem, but either way, I’m stuck dealing with it when it’s the last thing on the planet I want to be doing right now.
Especially during Christmas.
In turn, it’s making me feel a bit like the Grinch.
Huffing out a frustrated sigh, I throw the towel onto the counter and drop my head back on my shoulders, peering up at the ceiling as I contemplate life.
Of all days for my grandparents to be out sick, it would be today. The day that I’m set to deliver an ungodly amount of candy for Bradley’s engagement party, which I still have so much to do for.
And the party is in… less than eight hours.
I’m so screwed. Actually, I’m Scrooged.
I hate that Grams and Gramps are sick with the flu, not only because I really, realllllly need their help prepping for the engagement party, but because I’m worried about them. It makes me distracted.
Hence, the finger that I burned earlier this morning, which I currently have wrapped with tape as a makeshift bandage.
Kennedy’s in Strawberry Hollow for the weekend with her parents, which leaves me without reinforcements to finish everything up by myself.
I feel my phone vibrate in the back pocket of my jeans for the third time in the last few minutes, so I pull it out and check the notifications.
All texts from Wells.
A smile flits to my lips when I see his name, and a flurry of butterflies dances in my stomach.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since we got back to Mistletoe Falls. All of my thoughts are filled with that giant of a man, his wicked tongue, and filthy words.
God, I didn’t even know sex could be like that. Be that good.
And it’s not just the sex. It’s him.
He’s incredible. What started as a tiny crush has turned into something much bigger, and I’m not sure what that means for either of us.
I just know that I am enjoying this… thing with him much more than I anticipated, and I’m not sure I ever want it to stop.
Brushing my uninjured finger over the screen, I open the messages.
The first is a picture of Frankie wearing the adorable little green Christmas sweater that Grams knitted for both him and Penny so they could match.
I thought my heart was going to explode when she brought them to me. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Honestly, I didn’t even think that Wells would actually put him in it until he just sent the photo with the caption that said:
*Can’t wait to twin with my girl. Pawprint Love, Frankie.*
Okay, no, my heart’s not exploding—it’s growing ten sizes because I’m the Grinch today.
I bring my fingers to my lips as I let out a dreamy sigh.
The other message is saying that he wishes we were back at the cabin and he weren’t working on the bar.
Aside from a few text messages and a couple of stolen moments when he brought me coffee and I brought him lunch, we haven’t seen much of each other in the last few days because I’ve been busy getting things ready to cater the engagement party, and he’s been putting in longer hours to get the bar finished with Collin.
It scares me to admit even to myself how much I miss him, and it’s only been a few days.
This thing between us is temporary, but I find myself asking more and more… what if it wasn’t? And wondering if he would feel the same.
Sighing, I look at the last message he sent only minutes ago, willing myself not to have my head in the clouds and hearts in my eyes like Kennedy.
I’m the girl who’s always had her feet firmly planted on the ground, but lately, I’m starting to feel like my best friend with her wildly dramatic, romantic notions.
Can I come and steal a kiss?
Giggling, I quickly type a response back.
NoI’m swamped today, and so stressed out. The engagement party is tonight, remember?
Oh yeah. Well, a kiss can make it all better, I think.
Not like the real thing, Sugar. Gonna need one to tide me over until tonight. It’s been days. A man can only last so long.
I have so much to do, and it’s just me today. Grams and Gramps are out today because they have the flu. So that means I have to put my phone away and get to work or there’s no way I’m going to be ready by tonight. I’ll see you later though, okay?
I set my phone down on the counter and get back to work before he responds and I spend more time flirting with my fake boyfriend.
A few minutes later, I’m halfway through packaging the second batch of Gramp’s caramel trees when I hear the bell above the door ringing.
Shit, I switched the sign to closed, didn’t I?
Wiping my hand on the front of my apron, I walk out of the kitchen and nearly run into a solid wall of a man.
“Wells?” I squeak. “What are you doing here? You scared the hell out of me.”
O Holy Night, has the man gotten hotter in the few days since I’ve seen him? How is that even freaking possible?
His beard is longer and thicker, his unruly hair sticking up in a thousand different directions because he’s undoubtedly spent his day running his fingers through it while dealing with the contractors. He’s wearing my favorite lazy, playful grin. The one that makes his whiskey eyes look brighter.
The tan-colored hoodie he’s wearing does nothing to hide the sculpt of his biceps. Neither do the old, worn jeans on his thighs.
I’ve seen firsthand how powerful those thighs are, and my core throbs when I think of the weekend we just spent tangled up together.
It’s been on a constant, very distracting replay in my head ever since.
“You sounded stressed, so I wanted to come check on you,” he murmurs, reaching out to curve his hand around my waist and pull me closer.
His other hand moves to my jaw, and he cups the edge in his palm, brushing the pad of his thumb along it gently. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
It’s unbearably sweet and completely unexpected.
But I’m beginning to learn that’s exactly who Wells McCoy is. He’s the guy who shows up to help, no matter what he’s got going on.
Which I know is a lot, and that’s exactly why I shake my head. “No, you have so much going on at the bar an—”
“Rosalie,” he says with a low, rough tone, cutting off my protests. “Let me help. I’m here, and I can do whatever you need. Whatever’s happening at the bar can wait until tomorrow. Plus, Collin and the guys can handle things without me for a few hours. That’s why I hired them.”
I curve a brow. “You sure you want to make candy?”
His amber-colored eyes flicker with amusement as he stares down at me, his lip tugging into a grin. “Probably going to be horrible at it, but I can wash dishes if that’s what you need help with. Whatever takes shit off your plate.”
Again, my heart thrashes in my chest at how sweet and attentive he’s being.
Especially because he doesn’t have to be. No one is here to see us faking it.
I’m going to have to obsess over that little tidbit later—yet another thing that’s not something I’d normally do, but Wells seems to bring out things that I didn’t even know existed until he moved to Mistletoe Falls.
Finally, I nod. “Okay, grab an apron.”
An hour later, Wells is standing at the counter, placing caramel carefully in the molds with the cutest look of pure concentration on his face. The space between his brow is furrowed tightly as he focuses on distributing the exact amount, and each time he does, he looks so proud.
“You know, you look extremely sexy in that apron,” I murmur from beside him, my tone teasing.
“I think you should wear it more. Maybe…” I lift my finger that’s got a smudge of wet caramel at the tip and swipe it slowly along the corner of his mouth.
“You should wear it without anything underneath it.”
His gaze whips to mine, his tongue peeking out to swipe at the caramel.
God, that was freaking hot.
“Yeah? You into role-playing, Rosalie?” His words are a low, hoarse whisper that I can feel in my belly.
If I weren’t on the biggest time crunch possibly ever, then I would have to drag him upstairs and show him exactly what seeing him in that apron, being so selfless and helpful, does to me.
Turning on women is not just about filthy words, a good body, and a great cock.
It’s things just like this too.
“Guess you’ll have to find out, won’t you?” I smart back.
Lifting onto the tips of my toes, I lick away the remaining caramel before planting a quick, teasing kiss at the corner of his lips.
“You’re giving me a lot of very dirty ideas with this, Sugar.”
Oh my God.
He means…
“Whatever you’re thinking? Exactly that,” he says as if he can read my mind, or maybe I’m just that transparent with my expressions. Likely the latter.
Before I can even respond, my mouth hanging agape at the thought of Wells doing anything to me with caramel, making my brain hazy and unfocused, full of arousal, he adds, “But you needed help because you’ve got to get this delivered tonight, so we’ll have to pick this conversation up later.”
I manage to nod after pushing a rough swallow down my throat.
I can honestly say I never thought making candy would turn me on, but thanks to Wells…
I’m adding it to the list.
Somehow, we both get lost in our tasks, me helping him with whatever he needs along the way until hours pass, and when I look at the clock, I see that we need to be done and leaving within the next hour.
We made it. Barely, but we made it.
I place the last box onto the cart and blow out a breath. “Okay, that should be it.”
He glances up from the ribbon he was tying and nods. “I have a confession.”
“Okay…”
“I’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth,” he mutters as he unties his apron and pulls it over his head.
“For the last ten-plus years, I’ve followed a strict diet for hockey, and I rarely get to eat anything sweet.
Even after the injury and my retirement, I’ve followed it because I want to stay in shape. But fuck, Rosalie, these are tempting.”
“Ah, so a closet sweets lover. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. It’s not like anyone could tell anyway with your dozens of abs.”
Abs that I seriously cannot get enough of.
He chuckles, moving toward me. “They’re tempting, but they’re nothing compared to how tempted I am by you. I’m beginning to realize that my sweet tooth is for you, Rosalie Sullivan.”