Chapter 3
I press my face into my pillow when my alarm goes off at the crack of dawn, wishing for a few more minutes of sleep. I’m far from an early bird, but with only three days left to pull off Andrew and Hannah’s wedding, an early start is unavoidable.
If I’d gone to bed at a decent hour, maybe I wouldn’t be fighting to keep my eyes open.
After talking with Brooks last night, Winston and I came back to our cottage, where I worked on a tentative seating chart for the wedding. It’s going to be an intimate event, primarily with friends from town and a handful of relatives who can make the trip at the last minute.
I’m still unsure about having Brooks help. There’s a constant tug-of-war inside me with him being back in Starlight Pines. I can’t shake the memory of our time together at the engagement party, the intensity of his gaze, the scent of his cologne, and the feel of his hair, and the light scrape of his scruff against my fingers. It replays in my mind like a film stuck on repeat, each frame sharper than the last. And now with him back in town, it’s hard to separate the past from the present. The lines are beginning to blur, and I’m powerless to stop it.
I groan when my alarm goes off again, reminding me to get a move on. Sitting up in bed, I grab my phone and see a message from Fallon.
Fallon: Would you bail me out of jail if I were arrested???
Lila: Depends on the charges. If it’s for jaywalking, you’re on your own. I don’t condone petty crimes.
Fallon: What about breaking a hockey stick over someone’s head?
Fallon: I can assure you it would totally be justified.
Lila: That’s suspiciously specific. Does this have something to do with Harrison?
Fallon: I plead the fifth.
Lila: I better start planning your alibi.
Fallon: And this is why you’re my emergency contact. You have my back, no questions asked.
Lila: Please tell me how you expect to live under the same roof as him without any casualties?
Fallon: Thankfully, I have some time to plan my survival strategy since he’s leaving tonight to spend the holidays with his family in Aspen Grove.
Fallon: Except he’s left me with his demon cat and insists it has free reign over his apartment.
Fallon: I swear this thing is feral.
Lila: Oh gosh, I’d give anything to watch you try and tame him.
Fallon: I swear it’s part gremlin.
She moved to New York six months ago but was recently evicted from the basement apartment she was renting. Her landlord unexpectedly decided to sell their brownstone, and unfortunately, Fallon had a hard time finding a new place to live in the city on such short notice.
Last month, she temporarily moved in with Harrison Stafford, one of her new clients. He has a penthouse apartment in New York City with plenty of space. However, it doesn’t sound like either of them is happy about the arrangement.
When I pressed Fallon about moving in with someone she barely knows and isn’t particularly fond of, she revealed that she’d met him back when she was in culinary school. She had catered an event for the Rangers, the professional hockey team Harrison used to play for. They went on a handful of dates, but they didn’t end on the best terms.
Fallon didn’t think she’d see him again, let alone have him as a client, and now they’re living under the same roof. Sounds like a recipe for disaster.
My phone buzzes with another text.
Fallon: Forgot to ask earlier. How’s the wedding planning going?
Lila: It’s going to come down to the wire, but it’ll be perfect—it has to be!
Fallon: How are you holding up?
Lila: I’m so happy for Andrew and Hannah.
Fallon: You know that’s not what I‘m referring to.
Sometimes I think she knows me better than I do.
Lila: I’m okay, I promise!
Fallon: Someday, it’ll be your turn. Just you wait and see!
Lila: What about you? I hate the idea of you spending Christmas alone.
Fallon: I’ll manage. I’ve got an entire hockey stick collection here and two weeks to figure out the best ways to use them to get a rise out of Harrison.
Lila: Remind me to never get on your bad side.
Fallon: You could never.
Lila: I better get ready. It’s going to be a long day. Good luck with the demon cat!
Fallon: I wonder if holy water would work…Kick ass today!
I slip out of bed, careful not to wake Winston, who is sprawled out at my feet, snoring loudly.
Despite having a perfectly acceptable dog bed, he insists on sleeping in mine. I’m powerless against his irresistible puppy dog eyes. Unlike most dogs, he takes his beauty sleep seriously and pouts for hours if I wake him up too early. Luckily, he’s oblivious to my alarm clock, or we might have a problem.
After I grab the clothes that I laid out last night, I pad to the bathroom to get ready.
My one-bedroom cottage has an open floor plan, with exposed wooden beams running across the ceiling, adding a rustic touch. There’s a queen-sized bed in the corner, a reading nook by the window, and a kitchenette outfitted with stone countertops and copper accents. Off the main room is the bathroom with a walk-in shower, a free-standing tub and a skylight, allowing the natural light to filter in.
When Kay first suggested I stay here, I tried convincing her to let Winston and I have the innkeeper’s room in the main building and have her move in here. However, she was insistent that Winston and I needed more space and privacy than she did. And she didn’t want me to take on the added responsibility of being available to guests around the clock. Despite my assurance that I was happy to do it, she refused. Kay is the most stubborn person I know, and once she’s made up her mind, there’s no convincing her otherwise.
When I’m finished in the bathroom, I come out, take a seat on the bench by the front door, and put my boots on.
Winston’s ears twitch, and he pries open one eye. As soon as he realizes I’m getting ready to leave, he springs up, races down his ramp at the foot of the bed, and barrels toward me with a chorus of excited yips.
“Good morning, Winn.” I lean down to give him a good scratch behind the ear. “Looks like someone woke up in a good mood today.” I pick a sweater from his winter collection that I keep in a nearby basket. This one is cream with a candy cane pattern and holly leaves woven into the design. “Let’s get you dressed so we can head over to the inn.”
He presses his paw against my leg, tail wagging in agreement. He lets me help him into his sweater, but as soon as I finish, he stands on his hind legs, pawing at the air, begging for a treat.
“It’s impossible to resist when you’re so darn cute.” I grab a biscuit from the stash that I keep in the kitchenette and give it to him. “This is the only one you’re getting from me today,” I warn him as he greedily gobbles it up.
I have a feeling, between my mom and Kay, he’s going to be extra spoiled this week.
After locking up the cottage and stopping in the yard so Winston can do his business, we head to the inn.
This early in the morning, the inn is peaceful, and the lobby is void of guests. There’s already a fire in the stone fireplace, casting a warm glow on the beams overhead. Kay is an early bird, but after she makes her rounds, she usually goes back to her room to read before setting out fresh fruit and pastries for the guests. On the rare occasion I make it to the kitchen before her, I brew the first pot of coffee so she can have a fresh cup to start her day off right.
I stop short when I enter the kitchen. Brooks is standing at the workbench, locked in a fierce stare-down with a blender full of spinach, fruit, and protein powder. Judging by his scowl, the blender is winning their standoff.
He hasn’t noticed me yet, but I can’t seem to stop staring. He’s ridiculously attractive in his gray sweatpants that sit low on his hips.
Oh my god.
I wasn’t anticipating having a front-row seat to his bare chest, glistening with sweat, each flex of muscle emphasizing his six-pack.
He must’ve just come from the gym, and since Kay keeps the heat cranked up, he probably ditched his shirt to cool off.
I swallow hard. I’ve never had this kind of visceral reaction to a man. But it shouldn’t surprise me that Brooks has the power to send my pulse to race and my mind wandering down a path it really shouldn’t.
“Enjoying the view?” he asks.
My cheeks heat, and I avert my eyes from his chest. “What? No.” I step over to the window by the sink and open it.
“It’s forty-five degrees outside,” Brooks deadpans.
I slam the window shut. “I figured you were hot.”
“You think I’m hot?”
“Yes. I mean no. I mean…”
“You all right, Lila? You look a little flushed,” he says with a smirk.
I clear my throat, square my shoulders, and point to the kitchen appliance. “I was just wondering what kind of battle plan you have for the blender. From here it looks like it has the upper hand.”
Brooks shakes the blender in frustration “It’s not my fault there’s something wrong with it.” His smirk drops to a scowl.
“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” I tease.
“That would have been ideal.” He grunts. “The inn is fully booked, so I had the pleasure of sleeping on a cot last night in the storage room. Not exactly five-star accommodations,” he says, massaging the back of his neck.
“That explains your cheery mood this morning,” I say with a playful smile.
I admit sleeping in the storage room sounds miserable. The inn does have fold-out beds we keep on hand, but they aren’t all that comfortable.
I’m about to suggest he stay in my cottage, but stop short, remembering there’s only one bed. Sure, he could bring his cot, but I don’t think a change in location would be much of an upgrade.
With only three days left to plan this wedding, the last thing I need is Brooks walking around my place without a shirt, distracting me.
He repeatedly jabs the pulse button on the blender, his scowl deepening. “This thing is definitely busted.”
I rest against the counter, covering my mouth to hide my grin.
“What’s so funny?” he demands.
“Have you tried plugging it in?” I ask, nodding toward the base.
He scoffs. “Of course, the thing is—” His eyes follow my hand holding out the unplugged cord.
I lean over him to plug in the blender, the motor humming to life as the blades whirl until the mixture is perfectly smooth.
The sound drowns out the traitorous thump of my heart and the sharp gasp I take when my hip brushes against Brooks’ thigh. His jaw is tight, and his eyes are narrowed like he’s caught in a silent war with himself.
He finally turns the blender off, but his gaze remains on me. “You smell like peppermint and lavender,” he says softly.
My knuckles turn white as I grip the counter. “It’s my body wash,” I whisper.
“It suits you.” His voice is low.
Our faces are only inches apart, and I force myself to remain still, my body coming alive with him so close. My pulse is pounding in my ears as he traces my jawline with his thumb. Though it seems like an innocent gesture, the undercurrent of desire in his lingering touch sends my heart racing.
I’m unable to concentrate, my gaze trailing down his chest, along his abs, and to his V-line. He’s devastatingly handsome, and I’m drunk off the exhilaration of being so close. When I glance up, his intense gaze is locked on mine. His eyes have a glimmer of fascination, and it could be my imagination, but I swear he leans in a fraction, almost inviting me to reciprocate his touch.
I’m instantly reminded of our kiss in the photo booth.
Brooks’ hand gently cups my cheek as he traces the outline of my lips with his tongue. His eyes are dark and intense when I put my hands on his thighs, his breathing growing heavy under my touch.
I should have told him who I was before I let it get that far, but when he pulled me into his lap, I was lost in the heat of the moment, unable to think of anything but him.
The sound of Winston barking causes Brooks to withdraw in the present, and he glares down at my dog, who dared to interrupt.
Brooks is a contradiction—one minute, he’s irritated with me, and the next he looks at me like I’m the only person around who matters. Not even the strongest barriers could shield me against his unpolished charm, and I’d be wise to keep my guard up when my heart is on the line.
I shift my attention to Winston, who’s flopped on the floor, whining as if he’s endured a lifetime of hunger.
I roll my eyes, laughing at his theatrics. “Honestly, Winn. You’d think I never feed you.”
When I step away from the counter, Brooks gently grabs my wrist.
His eyes dart to my mouth before meeting my eyes. “Thanks for your help with the blender,” he says softly.
I swallow hard. “Anytime.” Here’s to hoping my voice doesn’t betray the fluttering in my chest.
“You better feed your dog,” he adds, the ghost of a smile softening his usually serious features. “He’s staring at me like he’s plotting my demise for delaying his breakfast.”
“Yeah, I should feed him before he gets any ideas,” I tease.
As I walk toward the pantry with Winston in tow, I rub my wrist, unable to shake the longing for a few more seconds lost in the heat of Brooks’ gaze.
It’s barely noon, and today has already been a disaster. Half the glassware I ordered from the city arrived shattered, and finding tablecloths in the new color scheme is proving to be a challenge. The original colors were red, green, and gold, and despite Hannah’s attempts to convince me otherwise, it was easy to tell that she didn’t like them. Thanks to her Pinterest board, I know that she prefers blue and silver.
I’ll do whatever it takes to make her vision come to life, even if it means sleepless nights and a hundred more calls until I find a vendor that has table clothes in the right color who can deliver before Christmas.
Now I’m staring at a small Christmas tree that was just delivered from Fir thanks for asking.”
He helps me out of the truck, and the second I set Winston down, he wastes no time running to play in a nearby pile of snow.
“What can I do for you?” Doug asks.
A car door slams, followed by Brooks marching over, hands tucked in his pockets.
He comes to stand next to me, facing Doug. “You sent a tree to Whispering Pines that was missing its needles.” His voice drips with annoyance. “It’s better suited as firewood than decor for a wedding.”
Doug visibly blanches, the color drawing from his face. “I’m sorry to hear that. We’ve been so busy that I hired someone from the local high school to deliver trees this weekend, and he must not have been paying attention when unloading the truck,” Doug explains. “I’ll personally hand-deliver a new one tonight.”
Brooks shakes his head. “It’s fine. We’re here, so we might as well pick it out.”
I rest my hand on his chest, silently urging him to dial it down a notch. Despite his surly attitude, I find it surprisingly sweet that he’s looking out for me. Apart from my family, I’m not used to someone advocating for me like this.
Still, in a small town like Starlight Pines, a bit of compassion goes a long way. The last thing I want is to upset Doug and risk him sharing our unpleasant exchange with the other locals. As an event planner, there’s no telling when I’ll need to call in a favor, and I can’t afford to burn bridges over one scraggly tree.
“What Brooks is trying to say is that we know you’re busy, and we’re more than happy to pick one out ourselves,” I say, offering Doug a friendly smile.
He nods. “Certainly. Pick any tree you’d like.” He gestures toward the rows of fir trees on the lot. “And Lila,” he adds, his tone earnest, “Please convey my apologies to Kay. She’s a long-standing customer, and I’ll personally oversee future deliveries to the inn to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
I lean forward to give his arm a reassuring squeeze. “We really appreciate it, Doug.”
Just then, an SUV pulls into the parking lot and Willis and Leola Carter, the elderly couple who own the coffee shop in town, get out and head toward the tree lot.
“I’m going to help the Carters’ now, but if you need anything, just holler,” Doug says before jogging toward them.
“You’re aware that being nice when someone messes up is an invitation to walk all over you, right?” Brooks informs me once Doug is out of earshot.
“Your grandma always says kindness opens doors that force can’t. I’ve found from experience that people are much more likely to go the extra mile when I show them a little grace. Looks like you forgot the small-town way of doing things,” I say, giving him a light tap on the shoulder.
We continue down the dirt path toward the tree lot. Winston leads the way, proudly carrying a giant stick in his mouth, dragging it on the ground as he trots forward, uncaring that it’s bigger than he is.
“That’s a nice sentiment, but in the real world, people see kindness as a sign of weakness,” Brooks says.
I stop mid-stride and put a hand on my hip. “Are you calling me weak?”
“I’m saying you could easily get taken advantage of. Hence the reason we’re here. Doug sent you a half-assed tree.”
I rise on my tiptoes and poke my finger against his chest. “In case you haven’t noticed, Starlight Pines isn’t the cutthroat corporate jungle you’re used to. Here, folks are more interested in supporting each other than playing the blame game.” I turn on my heel, then whirl back around to face Brooks and add, “And for the record, I’m far from weak. I’m considerate, upbeat, and always give people the benefit of the doubt. I believe in second chances, which in my opinion makes me strong and reliable. And…why are you looking at me like that?”
Brooks is gazing down at me, his expression mixed with amusement and a faint smirk.
He lifts a finger to move a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”
I’m taken aback by his comment.
“Cute? I prefer stunning and witty,” I say, half-kidding. “Now let’s go find that tree, shall we?” I add, turning away to hide the slight brush creeping up my neck. “Lead the way,” Brooks says, motioning for me to take the lead down the winding path.
Once we get to the tree lot, we navigate through the never-ending rows, with Winston bounding ahead. He’s abandoned the giant stick and has his nose to the ground, inspecting each tree, occasionally kicking up snow in his search for the perfect scent.
Brooks walks by my side with his hands shoved in his pockets. “Does your dog always wear sweaters?” He nods toward Winston, who’s leaving a trail of paw prints behind. “He has a new one on every time I see him.”
“In the winter he does. When I adopted him from the animal shelter, he was a scrawny little thing and couldn’t stop shaking like a leaf. My mom knitted him a sweater so he wouldn’t be cold, and now she’s practically his personal tailor.”
The pet adoption coordinator told me that Winston was the runt of his litter and the last to be adopted. That’s partly why I instantly fell in love with him. I can relate to feeling like you’ve been left behind and not knowing what the future holds. Winston deserved to be adopted by someone who would give him a chance to thrive and shower him with the love and attention he deserves.
Three years later, he’s surrounded by people who treat him like the special dog he is and spoil him to no end.
“You’re still close with your parents, huh?” Brooks asks.
“Yeah. We’ve always been tight-knit,” I say, kicking a pinecone across the dirt. “When Andrew moved away after he graduated high school, it was just the three of us left at home until I went to live at the cottage. Even now, Winston and I spend every Sunday at their place, and my mom pops by the inn often to help Kay out, especially when it gets busy or if I’m running an event.”
Brooks rubs the back of his neck, a faint crease forming between his brows. “My grandma is lucky to have you. She told me that you’ve been driving her to all her doctor’s appointments and managing things at the inn when it gets to be too much for her. You must think my brothers and I are bad people for not stepping up sooner.”
Kay never explained why they don’t visit, but I assume it has something to do with their dad passing away. Every year on the anniversary of his death, Kay retreats to her room. Losing her only child must have been unimaginable, and there was nothing I could do to take away the pain.
Each spring, we plant a fir tree in his memory, and once they’re all full-grown, we’ll decorate each one with Christmas lights during the holidays.
“Of course not,” I say gently. “Is there a particular reason you and your brothers stayed away for so long?”
Brooks looks down at his boots, kicking up pieces of dirt and snow as we walk. “I can’t speak for my brothers, but for me, life got in the way. Work mainly.”
I scoff. “You can’t possibly work all the time.”
“More or less. When I started my own production company, I threw everything I had into it. If I hadn’t put in the effort, someone else would have, and I wouldn’t be the one with a studio that pulls in record-breaking profits.”
“Kay is really proud of you. She’s always glowing after a summer visit to one of your movie sets. Although, she’s a tad disappointed that she still hasn’t met her favorite actor from Wicked.
“She’s the only person who can make A-listers feel like they’re auditioning for her approval.”
“Has filmmaking always been your passion?”
Brooks gives me a wistful smile, sliding his hands into his pocket. “Yeah. It was how my dad and I bonded after my mom left. He was obsessed with action movies, and every Friday night, we’d watch one together. He used to joke that in another life he would have been a film producer, but being a lawyer was the more practical choice.”
Hearing more about his past makes me think Brooks’ abrasive behavior is a way of coping with the grief, using it as a way to shield himself from the pain of losing someone he loved. He may not want my sympathy, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to find a way to show him that he doesn’t have to face everything alone.
I rest my hand on his arm. “Your grandma understandswhy being here is hard, and she doesn’t blame you for staying away. What matters is that you’re here now.”
He visibly relaxes, and I find it difficult to breathe when he moves closer. His brooding demeanor drops momentarily, and I’m drawn to this glimpse of his gentler side, usually reserved for his grandma.
An expression I can’t decipher flickers across his features, and my heart rate speeds up when his gaze flits across my face, lingering on the spot just above my mouth.
“Is something wrong?” I whisper.
“You have a snowflake on your face,” he says softly.
My breath hitches when he reaches out and drags his thumb across my chin; grazing my lower lip, his fingers resting lightly on my jaw. A spark of electricity ripples through me at the unexpected warmth of his hand, making me glad he’s not wearing gloves. I’m frozen in place, unable to control my body’s reaction. The intensity in his eyes mirrors how I feel.
It would be so easy to fall for Brooks, fueled by a teenage crush I wish I could leave behind. Yet, each time we touch, a familiar spark ignites, giving me a glimmer of hope that this isn’t just a figment of my imagination—that he might feel it too.
The sound of footsteps crunching over the snow has Brooks snapping out of it first, blinking rapidly and shaking his head. He jerks his arm back to his side, flexing his hand.
“There I go touching you again,” he mutters to himself. “It’s a challenge where you’re concerned.”
“Was there even a snowflake?” I tease, giving him a tentative smile, and attempting to keep my voice steady.
He dips his chin with a groan and avoids my gaze. “We should pick a tree so we can get back to the inn. Your family will be there soon, and we don’t want to keep them waiting.”
“Yeah,” I say, dipping my head.
When we round the corner, Winston is next to a balsam fir with evenly spaced branches, each one full of dark green needles. I can already picture how it’ll look with white lights twinkling through the branches, draped with white ribbon and silver ornaments. This tree will be the perfect addition to the wedding decor.
“This is the one,” I announce.
“Great,” Brooks says, rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll load it onto the truck bed.”
“Thank you,” I say with a broad smile. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
He opens his mouth like he wants to speak but doesn’t say anything. After a few seconds, he nods curtly before turning around to lift the tree and carry it in the direction of the truck. I’m left in the quiet tree lot, wondering why it feels like he’s purposely avoiding getting close to me.