7. Lacie
LACIE
The allotted time passed, and Jared and I wheeled our suitcases out to the sleigh. Before long, we were nestled beneath blankets on our laps, and the driver called out commands to his team, which pulled us slowly forward and gradually picked up speed.
I swallowed down a painful lump in my throat at every curve in the road. My head spun, and my heart thudded dully in my chest. The thought of Wyatt’s name, of the vacant dismissive way he’d spoken to me, of how pathetic I felt though that conversation had taken place hours ago, was a merciless reminder during the chilly drive.
Bells jangled on the horses’ harnesses, and we made slow but steady progress, leaving the little town behind as we climbed up the mountainside.
Winter air attempted to reach everywhere it could—down my back, between my ribs, biting my toes and fingers. I slumped in the sleigh, grateful to have Jared’s warmth propping me up.
The road curved this way and that as we climbed higher and higher toward the mountaintop. Trees spoked through the snow like candles on a white-iced cake. Several times, I had the urge to take pictures and document every breathtaking view, but after the incidental reminder of Wyatt’s criticism about my overuse of the device, I kept my phone in my pocket and tried to enjoy the view.
Soon, the sleigh took another turn, and a lovely, white house with a wide porch like the one I’d seen in countless pictures came into view. The structure had been added onto, giving it more rooms and accommodations for guests—not to mention the spa.
Tall pines climbed around it as though attempting to scrape the stars from the sky. Not far from the inn sat a large, scenic barn surrounded by fencing that was decorated for the holiday with massive candy canes and strings of lights.
“There it is,” I said.
“Is it what you were hoping for?”
I met Jared’s gaze. His cheeks and nose were rosy red.
The concern in his eyes urged me to force my biggest smile. No need to show him I was still wallowing. “It’s everything I hoped for.”
I’d pictured arriving here with Wyatt, but I brushed the thought aside, hoping maybe it would stay away this time. Every hope, all my plans—not only for our wedding, but for our life together.
I had to let them go.
I couldn’t dwell on that double-timing lowlife. This was about moving on, and Jared could help me do that.
The thought gave me pause as I lifted the blanket from my lap and stood. I rested my hand on the side of the sleigh and shook my head.
That sounded a little too much like a rebound. That was not why I’d invited him along. He was so much more to me than that.
Friends. We’re just friends.
I stepped off the sleigh, waiting for Jared and the others to do the same, and we all retrieved our suitcases and climbed the porch to step inside. Another bell jangled above the door, and the inn’s warmth was as stark as it’d been in The Rusty Spur—almost more so after being exposed to so much winter during our ride.
I breathed in the soothing scent of cinnamon and glanced around. We stood on a patch of tile which was offset by a mirror to our left and a coatrack with many arms like a tree in winter. To the left beyond that, an open seating area was visible, looking like a living room more than a lobby. To the right, a welcoming, carpeted staircase led the way up while a hall meandered past it, leading deeper onto the main floor.
Once the other guests finished checking in, Jared and I approached the reception desk, which was the perfect height for resting elbows on. A wooden rack of hooks holding keys showed a few vacancies, and a woman wearing a red-and-green-striped sweater with an image of Santa appliquéd on the front gave us an excited wave.
Curly brown hair hung around her face, and she wore the biggest reindeer earrings I’d ever seen. She grinned, making me wonder if she was always this happy. Or had we caught her after receiving a particularly good text or something?
“Merry Christmas, and welcome to Harper’s Inn,” the receptionist said.
“Thanks,” Jared said, beaming back at her.
He always hit it off with people. That was one thing that made him so good at direct sales. Jared could talk Fort Knox into a security system.
“Haven’t seen your faces here before. I’m Juniper Harper,” the receptionist said, offering her hand over the top of the reception desk. Much more personable than most hotels.
I made the mental note to add the cheerful, pleasant reception to my review when this trip was over.
“Just don’t call me Juniper, and we’ll get along fine.”
Jared laughed. “Is there something else we should call you?”
“I go by Junie. Everyone calls me that, and you should, too.”
“Nice to meet you, Junie. I’m Jared, and this is Lacie.”
Junie smiled at each of us before turning her attention to her computer screen. “Last name?”
“Sorensen,” I said, gripping my suitcase by its handle. “I had two rooms.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Sorensen,” Junie mused distractedly as she searched.
Jared bristled, his body tensing.
“Oh, we’re not married,” I said, hurrying to clear the matter up more for his sake than for Junie’s. “We’re not together. I mean, we are here together, but we’re not?—”
“My bad.” Junie gave me a reassuring smile. Patches of pink dotted her cheeks along with her freckles. “There you are. Rooms 9 and 11, right across from each other.”
I exhaled, wishing I could shrivel on the spot. In any other circumstances, this wouldn’t be so bad, but with Jared so on-edge, with his talk about us being adults now, that shed this situation in an entirely new light.
We were adults. We had been for a while. And we’d gone on plenty of trips together before this. So why did that fact make me squirm so much now?
Junie handed us each a unique key with an old-fashioned leather tag indicating the room numbers. I thanked her before heading toward the stairs. The banister was roped with garlands and festive red bows.
“Sorry,” I said under my breath.
Jared shook his head, dismissing my apology. “Don’t be. Small place like this. She won’t be the only one who thinks we’re a thing.”
“We’re friends traveling together,” I said, hoping to calm him. “Friends do that.”
“Not to places like this.”
With a twitch in his jaw, he took my suitcase and carried it up the stairs for me.
His words tingled, but I shook them off, not wanting to make this a bigger deal than it already was.
At the top of the stairs, a hall led in both directions. Jared followed the little golden sign indicating the direction of our rooms and stopped.
“Sure they do,” I said, continuing on from where we’d left off. “Or we do, anyway. And that’s all that matters, right?”
Jared grunted and opened the door to room eleven first. I wasn’t sure I’d ever been to a hotel that didn’t use key cards, but he inserted the key into the lock and turned it.
“You taking this one?” he asked.
“Yes, I am. And thank you very much for your help.”
I guided my suitcase into the room, hating that with the additional distance between us physically, I could feel him distancing himself from me in other ways, too.
I’d never felt insecure around Jared before—not the way I had around other guys. But those feelings crept in now, making me second-guess myself.
Something I never did around him.
I flicked on the light. The room was cozy. Dark wood ceilings contrasted the white walls and coordinated with the identical, burnished wood doors. The single bed was impeccably accentuated by a plush armchair with large, pink blossoms all over its fabric. French-style doors offered a view of the balcony outside.
Part of me ached that Wyatt would never see how adorable this place was. I cast the thought aside.
He wouldn’t care anyway—not even if he had come.
“This is so incredible. Even better than I pictured it.”
Jared didn’t respond. Peering behind my shoulder, I realized he hadn’t come in after me.
A little slice of panic closed over my airways, and I darted out of the room to find him working the key into the doorknob across from mine.
That closed door felt too final. I knew how stupid it sounded, but right now, I didn’t like him to be so far away from me.
I blurted the first thing on my mind. “Want to meet up for dinner in about half an hour?”
Jared peered over his shoulder. I waited, pulsing, agonizing over his response.
He wouldn’t say no, would he? If we went down to dinner together, that would give the other guests more of a reason to think we were a thing.
He had come here with me, but would he keep his distance from now on to avoid speculation like that?
"The chef here has a world-class rating," I added.
In fact, I’d scheduled a private tasting the day before we were slated to head back.
“Sure,” he said. “Dinner sounds good.”
I exhaled as he tipped his finger to his forehead, stepped into his room, and closed the door. I’d never much liked tightrope-walking, but it suddenly felt as though that was exactly what I was doing.
Had bringing Jared along on this trip been a mistake?