Chapter 5 Charles
Charles
I’m not going to look into a rental. One accident was more than enough. I can’t risk something happening to Ellie while the snow is still falling.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it. My assistant isn’t having fun working on the day before Christmas, but all I asked her to do was send a simple message to the organizers letting them know I won’t be attending their gala.
From the constant vibrations, I suppose it’s not as simple as I thought.
The Snowcap Inn is a pleasant, warm respite from the freezing temperatures outside.
A massive stone fireplace dominates the room, the fire within it roaring as it devours a small fortune in logs, the heat hitting my face in a welcoming wave of warmth.
The scent of woodsmoke and oak wraps around us, a stark contrast to the sterile, frozen air outside.
I guide Ellie further in, my hand a firm, steady pressure on the small of her back. A quick scan of the room confirms it’s as quiet as it looked from the street. The front desk is deserted, with a single, tarnished bell resting on the polished wood.
I ring it, the sharp ping cutting through the comfortable silence. The sound feels like a gamble. The last thing I need is to drag her back out into that blizzard, to see the hope in her eyes snuff out.
“Do you think they’ll still have rooms?” The question escapes her, and I catch the way she’s chewing on her bottom lip with nerves. “We really picked the best time to need a place to stay.”
Only my spectacularly bad luck—or perhaps a twisted sense of fate—could have me stranded in a postcard-perfect town with the woman who stole my heart during our youthful years, all during the one holiday used in so many sappy romance media.
Before I can form a reply, a man emerges from a back room.
He’s tall, built like he chops the firewood himself, with a face that looks like it was carved from stone and forgotten how to smile.
His scowl isn’t directed at us; it seems to be his face’s permanent state of rest. He is, without a doubt, the most unwelcoming innkeeper I have ever laid eyes on.
And yet, a cynical certainty settles in my gut. A man who glares like that isn’t overrun with festive bookings.
“Sebastian,” I read off the simple brass nametag pinned to his flannel shirt.
My wallet is already in my hand, a preemptive strike before Ellie can even think of reaching for her money.
“We need a room for a couple of nights. Through Christmas, if you have something.” My voice is all business, an attempt to mask the sheer, desperate need behind the request.
He looks between us, his gray eyes asserting. Once he’s made up whatever internal decision is happening in there, he accepts my card, his nose crinkling slightly at what I offer him.
Sneaking a glance at Ellie, I catch her looking around the inn in amazement. It’s not fancy in the slightest, but she sees past that.
Returning my card, Sebastian drifts away to pluck out a key. “Bathroom is shared, the door is on the left. Clean up after yourself.”
I grimace, but bite back my words. We have a room. We are safe. She is warm. That is all that matters. This is fine. More than fine.
Sliding a key with a number, he jerks his chin in the direction of a set of stairs. “We offer breakfast in the morning. That’s it. Enjoy your stay.”
I share a glance at Ellie, and I’m sure we’re thinking the same about this guy. Despite his straightforwardness, I thank him and lead her toward the stairs, my hand returning to its place on her back, claiming the excuse to touch her again.
Taking a look at the number, I match the door and crack it open. My mind is already running through a checklist of things to look out for, but Ellie’s quick to notice the main issue from the start.
Her cheeks flush a delightful, devastating pink as she abandons her luggage and stares at the single bed. It’s large, but it is undeniably, unequivocally one bed. One bed.
She doesn’t have to voice her concern; it’s written in the slight part of her lips, the wide-eyed glance she throws my way. My own heart gives a traitorous, painful thump against my ribs. The air in the room is suddenly too thick, too warm.
What should I do? I’m a problem solver, but this isn’t a problem I want to solve.
“I can say something.” The offer is automatic, the lie of a gentleman. My feet are rooted to the floor, my entire being screaming in protest at the idea of giving this up. We must look like a couple. The thought is enjoyable enough to make me forgive the mix-up.
“No, no. This is fine. I feel lucky that he had rooms at all. I don’t want to risk losing what we already have.” She falls back onto the mattress with a soft groan, a sigh that seems to travel straight through me.
Play it cool, Charles. Act like the thirty-one-year-old you are.
“You’re sure you’re alright? I’m sure this town has a clinic or a hospital—” The worry is real, a constant, humming undercurrent beneath the riot of other emotions.
She lets out a surprised laugh that feels like sunshine. “I’m fine. I’m more worried about you. The gala, Charles. What are we going to do?”
Stepping toward her, I don’t sink down next to her like I want to. I cling to the last shreds of my control, standing close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her without taking that one last step.
“Don’t worry about the gala.” I rub the back of my neck, my eyes drifting to the window where the snow continues its silent, relentless fall, trapping us here in this perfect, terrible, wonderful intimacy. “Why don’t we take advantage of the situation?”
Her mouth purses, her doubtful eyes meeting mine. “Take advantage, how?”
The plan forms instantly, a way to keep her with me, to build a new memory over the old ones. “Well, we’ve secured a place to stay. That’s the most important bit. Why don’t we go and see what this town has to offer?”
Pulling out my phone, I swipe away Francine’s suffering responses, pleading with me to change my mind so they can leave her alone. I will make it up to her. I will pay for her next vacation. Whatever she wants to keep her from giving her notice.
Right now, my only mission is to find something that will make Ellie smile that genuine smile again. I spot a few shops I know she’ll love. “Come on. I want to look around.”
I leave no room for discussion. A sigh leaves her lips, but then it comes—the curve that always makes me dizzy. It steals the air from my lungs, making my chest feel too tight and too full at the same time.
I’ll handle the fallout later. I’ll increase Francine’s bonus until she sings carols. The gala no longer matters. Instead of a boring event, something much more exciting will replace it.
I’m going to be spending my Christmas winning over this woman.
I may not know how to charm a woman yet, but Ellie will help me learn what it takes to win her heart.