Chapter 14
fourteen
A COUPLE DAYS LATER, Whitney had just finished boxing the last pie of the morning when Aretha marched into the kitchen. Her eyes were focused and her lips tight as she plopped unceremoniously onto one of the island stools. It tipped to the side before righting itself with a clatter of wooden legs against hardwood floor.
“It’s not working,” Aretha huffed.
Whitney raised an eyebrow but hesitated to ask what she was referring to. In part because she needed to get the pies into the freezer at her place. And in part because she was afraid she knew the answer.
She’d been doing her best to keep her distance from Daniel. But the more she kept to the kitchen, the more he appeared there. Since the sledding incident, he’d stopped waiting for her to ask and began inviting himself into her domain.
She wasn’t complaining that she’d arrived at the inn to find Daniel sipping coffee, hip against the counter, the last three mornings. Nor was she upset that he’d insisted on scrambling eggs while she fried up bacon and popped muffins into the oven. She wasn’t even bothered by the way he’d sidled next to her at the stove, his breath warm on the back of her neck.
Nope. She was bothered by the way it didn’t bother her. Not even a little bit. Not even at all.
Because it should.
Every minute he spent with her was time he wasn’t spending with Ruby. Yes, she’d seen them sitting on the couch behind their spreadsheets more than once. But he was always so buttoned up. So prim and proper.
Ruby received the professional version of Daniel.
Whitney got the oversized sweatshirt with the hole and the uncombed hair. She got the laughter in his eyes and the rare chuckles he shared. She was on the inside of inside jokes. And she knew what it felt like to be held against his chest.
The Lord knew she wanted to feel that again.
Her cheeks flushed at the mere memory of their sledding excursion. She’d never felt quite so surrounded, quite so safe. She’d been terrified, but she’d also been certain that Daniel wouldn’t let anything happen to her. That he was capable enough and that he cared enough.
And it made her bones feel like pudding.
Until she remembered Ruby.
Always she came back to Ruby.
While Aretha had offered to pay for the rest of her tuition, they’d never discussed what would happen if the plan failed. If Daniel and Ruby didn’t find lasting love.
Whitney couldn’t afford to find out. And she didn’t dare ask. Maybe because she didn’t really want to know. Or maybe because she couldn’t let herself hope for it.
Aretha had been prattling away for several seconds, Whitney fully immersed in her thoughts of Daniel. When she blinked and caught the tail of Aretha’s rant, she had no problem catching up. Because, of course, Aretha had been worried about her nephew’s love life.
“...just aren’t spending enough time together. I hoped they’d go visit the quilters together, but Daniel seems intent on doing as much of that electronically as possible.”
He’d also invited Whitney to go on any road trips they needed to take. Not that she was going to announce that to Aretha.
She didn’t need any help looking like she was trying to get between the happy would-be couple. Which she was not doing. She was just stuck between ... Daniel and his aunt’s matchmaking scheme.
“We have to do something ,” Aretha implored, folding her hands beneath her chin.
Like leave them alone to let them figure it out on their own?
Whitney bit her tongue and attempted a smile. “Maybe they just need a little space.”
Heaving a deep sigh, Aretha shook her head. “We don’t have time for space. Christmas is right around the corner, and Ruby wants to finish up the acquisition so she can go home for the holidays. But if she goes home without Daniel, he’ll be all alone.”
Whitney sucked in a quick breath and choked out her surprise. “Isn’t Daniel spending Christmas here?”
“Yes—but it would be so much better if they spent it together.” Aretha batted her eyelashes, her gaze locked on somewhere far in the past. “My first Christmas with Jack was so romantic. Walking in the snow, holding hands along the boardwalk. Kissing under the—” Her eyes snapped into focus, her shoulders squaring. “The mistletoe!”
Whitney pressed a finger to her lips like she did regularly to hush the kids. “They’re in the parlor,” she whispered.
Aretha refused to be subdued. “That’s perfect. We just need to call them out and then catch them in the doorframe.”
She grabbed Whitney’s wrist, dragging her toward the swinging door before she could formulate an excuse. And she needed an excuse. Anything. Because she did not think she could stomach watching Daniel and Ruby locked in a romantic embrace. No matter how much Aretha wanted to make it happen.
“But—but we need an excuse—I mean a reason—to call them.”
Aretha paused for all of a split second. “Pie. Everyone comes running for pie.”
“But won’t they wonder why we didn’t just bring it to them?”
“You’re overthinking it.” Aretha giggled, her cheeks already pink with delight. “This is going to be perfect.”
Perfectly dreadful.
Whitney sucked in a breath and tried to force her heart to beat at a steady pace.
“Ruby!” Aretha called as soon as they stepped into the dining room. “Daniel! Come get some fresh pie.”
Whitney jerked on her arm. “I don’t have pie for them!” she hissed.
Waving off the concern, Aretha giggled behind her hand. “They’ll forget all about the pie with a touch of the mistletoe magic.”
“But what if they don’t?”
“Well then, I’ll buy one of the ones you just baked.” Aretha didn’t wait for agreement before hollering to her marks again. “It smells delicious! Come and get it.” She paused in the middle of the dining room, her hands clasped beneath her chin and her gaze locked on the mistletoe.
The bulb of fake greenery glowed in the light of the afternoon sun shining through the window on the far wall, its bright red ribbons daring anyone to ignore the Christmas spirit.
“We’ll be right there,” Ruby called just as the front door swung open, ushering in a burst of cold air, Marie, and all three Sloan kids.
“Miss Whitney! Miss Whitney!” Jack ran toward her. “Amy has tonsillitis!”
He looked so pleased that she had to laugh, but she tried to cover it with her hand. When she finally pulled herself together, she squatted down in front of him. “Why are we so happy about Amy’s illness? That’s terrible.”
“But now I get to be the angel,” he announced.
“Ah. I see.” She brushed his mop of thick brown hair. “I suppose you’re going to need a halo.”
“That does sound like cause to celebrate.”
She looked up at the deep voice that had joined them. Daniel had walked through the parlor doorway and nearly into the foyer. His usual button-down and khakis had been replaced by a navy blue sweater that hugged his shoulders and made his eyes dance and jeans that looked as comfortable as they were worn-in.
There was no sign of Ruby.
Aretha’s smile disappeared, her expression deflated and disappointed.
“So, where’s this pie we were promised?” Daniel asked.
“Pie?” Julia Mae squealed and raced toward her mom’s leg. “Can we have some? Please?”
“But you had a cookie after rehearsal.”
Julia Mae’s bottom lip pouted slightly. “But that was for being good during practice. This is to cel-brate.”
Daniel let out an undeniable snort, and Whitney had to cover her mouth again to muffle more laughter. The kid had a point.
Marie shook her head and cupped her middle child’s face with both hands. “All right. A small piece.”
Julia Mae made a beeline for Aretha, grabbing her hand to tug her deeper into the maze of tables and toward the kitchen.
“You all sit down. I’ll get the pie,” Whitney said. “Let me just get Ruby.” As she turned toward the parlor, Daniel shifted, and she collided with a sweater-covered shoulder. “Oops. Sorry,” she mumbled, stumbling back.
Daniel caught her arm at the same time with a quick “Sorry about that.”
Before she could move, Jack’s voice rang out. “Look! You’re under the mistletoe.”
Whitney froze, not even needing to lift her gaze to know he was right. Her gaze stayed locked on Daniel’s neck as he lifted his chin, his Adam’s apple bobbing slowly, his jaw working back and forth a few times.
“Oooooh!” Julia Mae sang. “You have to kiss now.”
Waving her hands in front of her, Whitney tried to step back, but Daniel still held her elbow, his grip firm and unmoving.
“Don’t be silly,” Aretha croaked. Whitney risked a glance across the room to find the older woman’s complexion pale, the rosy tint to her cheeks erased. “That’s just a ridiculous—”
Marie cut her off with a laugh. “It’s tradition.”
“Well, if it’s tradition”—Daniel swallowed thickly—“we can’t be the ones to break it.”
“No. Nope. I don’t—” Whitney tried to shimmy her way out from under the source of many a seasonal smooch. She didn’t need to add herself to the list.
Not in front of the kids. And definitely not with Aretha looking on.
But there was something in Daniel’s eyes that made her freeze. Maybe it was the way they dropped quickly then lifted back up to meet her gaze. Her lips tingled under the weight of his glance, and she had to return the favor. When her gaze settled onto his lips, she studied them. The comparative fullness of the bottom lip. The darker pink outline. The tiny upturn at the corners that was only for her. Only for someone studying them so carefully.
Her stomach took a full spin of delight. Then dropped swiftly in terror.
She gave him a quick shake of her head, but it was too late. His mouth was already forming the words she knew were coming.
“Is it okay if I kiss you now?” His hand on her arm squeezed tighter. Barely a perceptible change, but it was enough to send sparks shooting to the tips of her fingers.
Flexing her hands, she tried to shake them free of the tingling but ended up only twisting them into the softness of his sweater. Which he must have taken for agreement.
As any reasonable person would.
She hadn’t meant it that way. She hadn’t meant it as anything. It was just, he was steady, and she was flying apart from the inside out. And her hands had gotten lost in the fabric somewhere near the sides of his waist.
And he was leaning in.
Whitney sucked in a sharp breath and pinched her lips together, holding every single cell as tight as she could. She would just remain perfectly still, and no one would think anything of the kiss. And Daniel would surely understand that nothing should happen between them. That nothing was happening between them.
Yes.
Good plan. Remain completely stationary.
Then Daniel pressed his lips to hers.
They were warm at first. Gentle with firm pressure. And she almost sighed with relief. This wasn’t anything special. It certainly wasn’t what she’d imagined. Not that she’d been imagining what it would be like to kiss him. Much.
Then she did sigh. It wasn’t loud or probably even noticeable. Except to Daniel.
He responded immediately, his hand slipping to her jaw. His thumb dragged from the corner of her mouth all the way to her ear as he tugged her closer.
Fire crackled in the wake of his touch, and she pressed into him, both the arsonist and the extinguisher. She was so consumed with finding some relief from the flames—and also finding more of them—that she relaxed her mouth.
The world disappeared. The inn and everyone in it vanished.
In a split second it was only the two of them. Only his lips on hers. The taste of hot cocoa and Christmas sugar cookies. The smell of pine and soap and something that was decidedly Daniel. The warmth of his body so near to hers.
Digging her fingers into his slim sides, she pressed in a little more, pulled him a little closer.
Suddenly his hand left her elbow and slipped around her back. His fingers spread between her shoulder blades. He sent shivers racing down her spine. She’d felt something similar in the snow and thought it was from the cold, thought she needed to go inside. But this ... well, this was sweeter. Warmer. Entirely addictive.
Then his other hand slipped into the hair at the back of her head, his finger winding its way into a curl, tugging ever so gently.
“Ew! They’re kissing!”
The inn and all its reality rushed back around them, swirling like a snow globe as Whitney jerked away from Daniel and tried to make sense of what had just happened. He didn’t drop his hands, his fingers still pressing into her back, holding her close. And upright. She couldn’t help but study his face, searching for some sign, confirmation of how he felt.
Oh, she knew he’d liked it. In the moment, he’d been so sweet. So tender. So certain.
But did he regret it? After?
He pressed his lips together for a moment as though testing them, making sure they were still there. Then the corners of his mouth ticked up ever so slightly. A smile just for her. Like his kiss had been. The tiniest promise that she need not worry.
She was the only one who would have regrets.
Tearing her gaze from his face, she spotted Ruby, arms crossed over her bright red sweater and a pout firmly in place on her matching lips.
“Well, what did you think was going to happen when you told them to kiss, silly?” Marie laughed at her little girl. “I think tradition has been safely upheld.” Herding her kids toward the dining room, she said something sure to distract them all. “Come on. Let’s get some pie.”
Extricating herself from Daniel’s embrace, Whitney raced into the kitchen, cheeks flaming, heart too big for her chest.