Chapter 4
“ B rooks, dear, can you get me a couple of bottles of wine?” Grandma asks while assembling a Caesar salad.
“Sure thing.” I head to the pantry and grab two bottles from the wine fridge. Once back in the kitchen, I hold them up for her approval. “Merlot work?”
“That’s perfect.”
“Need anything else?”
“That should be it.” She drizzles a generous amount of dressing over the salad, adds a sprinkle of parmesan, and tosses it before stepping back to admire her work. “How’d you sleep last night?” she asks.
“Do you actually let guests sleep on that cot?” I ask, rubbing the back of my neck. “The frame sags and it creaks with every move.”
She gives me a quick wave of her hand. “It’s better than the floor, isn’t it?”
“That’s debatable,” I mutter.
At six-two, even a decent cot would be cramped, but a nearly broken one becomes a torture contraption designed to keep me awake and sore all night.
“Do you have another cot I could swap it out with?”
“Why don’t you take the Merlot and the Ceaser salad into the dining room?” Grandma says, holding out the bowl. “Lila will help me bring out the rest of the food after she’s finished taking Winston outside.”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” I wonder why she ignored my question about my sleeping arrangements but I decide to ask her about it later.
A few minutes later, we’re all gathered around the large farmhouse table, including the Monroe family, their friends from town, and me and Grandma. She carries out a steaming pot of her famous beef stew, the rich aroma filling the room. I can’t recall the last time I sat down for a home-cooked meal. Typically, I’m busy wining and dining clients and talent at upscale restaurants, and on the rare evenings I’m home, I microwave one of the meals my housekeeper has prepared for me.
The inn doesn’t provide full-service meals for guests since Grandma never wanted the hassle of a kitchen staff. She prefers to support the local restaurants instead. Still, she loves cooking for guests and family on special occasions and insisted that Lila include dinner at Whispering Pines in the wedding week itinerary.
Lila follows behind with two large baskets of sourdough bread, setting them on either end of the table. She’s changed into a red knee-length dress with bell sleeves and a pair of silver flats. Her long, golden tresses are pulled back into a half ponytail with a bright red bow that matches her dress.
“Thank you, dear,” Grandma says, patting Lila on the shoulder as she walks past.
“Of course,” Lila replies.
“You’ve outdone yourself, Kay. Everything smells delicious,” Andrew says with a grin.
“Yes, thanks so much for doing this,” Hannah chimes in.
“Absolutely. You’re all busy with wedding prep, so it’s the least I could do. I’m so happy that you’re celebrating your special day here and on Christmas no less.”
She gives her head a small shake when Lila reaches for the chair next to her. “You’re next to Brooks tonight.” She motions to where I’m seated a couple of chairs down.
“Oh.” Lila whips her head around to face me, her eyes wide with surprise. “I didn’t realize we had assigned seating,”
“Tonight we do,” Grandma says.
Lila comes around the table, and as she moves to sit, I instinctively stand up and pull out her chair, catching Andrew’s sharp stare from across the table. Can’t say I blame him. No one’s ever accused me of being a gentleman. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not a complete asshole. I’ll treat a woman to an expensive dinner before taking her to bed, but going around acting like Prince Charming? That’s not me.
Yet, I’m quickly learning that Lila isn’t just another woman to impress. Her presence dulls the chaotic energy thrumming through me, making me feel strangely more at peace than I have in a while. She lights up the room when she walks in, her laughter like a breath of fresh air, which has me doing more than I normally would for a woman to make her feel special.
She bats her eyelashes as she slides in. “Are you going to get my napkin, too?”
“Didn’t realize I’d signed up to be your assistant,” I grumble in a forced show of annoyance as I reach across to grab her napkin off the table and place it gently on her lap.
Andrew is still watching us with a furrowed brow so I clear my throat and take my seat.
With practiced hands, Grandma dishes up bowls of beef stew, handing them out one by one around the table before we all start to dig in.
“The tree you and Brooks picked out earlier today is stunning,” Grandma remarks to Lila, her face glowing with approval.
“Yes. It’s perfect,” Hannah adds from her spot across the table. “Making ornament place settings for the wedding was a genius idea. You’re brilliant, Lila.”
She blushes as she takes a sip of wine. “Thanks; I’m glad you like it.”
Andrew leans forward, his hands clasped. “Working hard to secure ‘favorite sibling’ status, huh, sis?”
Lila snorts, shooting him a playful glare. “I’m your only sibling, smartass.”
“Watch your language, please,” Grandma chides, raising a finger in warning.
“Says the person who cussed old man Barker out last week,” Lila quips.
“That’s because he forgot the box of walnuts with my order. When I pointed it out, he suggested I go to the store myself. I told him I knew exactly where to find big ones that would be far more satisfying than anything he could offer.”
I almost choke on my drink, stunned by my grandma’s crassness. Meanwhile, everyone else at the table bursts into laughter, unable to contain their amusement.
Lila leans back in her chair, a napkin covering her mouth as she giggles uncontrollably. “I can’t get over what you said. Mr. Barker hasn’t been able to look you in the eye since.”
Observing their interaction makes me realize just how special the relationship between Grandma and Lila is. Grandma treats her with the affection and care she would a granddaughter, and while my brothers and I have been absent, I’m grateful she’s had someone she could depend on in our place.
“Still,” Grandma says, pointing at Lila. “Do as I say, not as I do.”
“Sorry, Kay,” Lila ducks her head, her tone apologetic.
I lean in and whisper in her ear. “Don’t worry, she’s called me out for my foul language, too.”
Lila laughs quietly. “Is swearing your thing ?”
“Just a bad habit I’ve never broken. What’s your excuse?”
“I grew up with an older brother,” she retorts.
“Hey, I heard that,” Andrew protests, though his grin is unmistakable.
“Behave, you two,” their mom interjects.
“Yes, Mom,” they say in unison.
Everyone goes back to eating their beef stew and bread. The rest of dinner with the Monroes and Grandma feels like old times. It’s a loud, chaotic, and lively affair. Andrew and Lila might be eight years apart, but they tease each other mercilessly, and the love they share is unmistakable. It makes me miss my own brothers, wishing they were here to celebrate with us.
After dinner, we move into the lounge area near the lobby for a nightcap. Lila’s mom made a batch of Irish coffee and shortbread cookies. The lights are dimmed, and Christmas music is playing in the background while everyone mingles.
Andrew and Hannah are snuggled in an armchair near the crackling fire. Hannah is nestled in Andrew’s lap, her head resting on his shoulder, and his arm is wrapped around his waist. He plays idly with her hair, winding a strand around his finger while she talks. They’ve never been afraid to show affection in public, and at first, it caught me off guard. I couldn’t understand how Andrew could so freely let someone in and trust her not to break his heart.
On paper, that kind of connection sounds like everything I should want, but my distorted perspective prevents me from believing that love is anything but complicated. It’s messy, demands a level of trust I’m unsure I can give, and requires a balancing act of expectations that often result in disappointment.
The only example of a relationship I had as a kid was a dysfunctional one. My mom walked out on my dad when my brothers and I were kids, and the few memories I have of my parents together are chaotic, marked by heated arguments and slammed doors. I couldn’t understand how she could leave if she loved us. The experience left me jaded and questioning the emotion altogether.
Andrew and Hannah are the exception. They’ve faced challenges most couples couldn’t survive, yet somehow, they’ve weathered the storm, demonstrating that true love does exist for some. I’m too cynical, too guarded to let anyone that close. Still, watching them, I can’t help but wonder what it might be like to find someone who’s worth the risk.
I don’t realize I’m scowling until Andrew glances over, arching a brow as if to question why I’m in a bad mood. Wanting to steer clear of an invitation to talk with him and Hannah, I divert my gaze and move across the room, pretending that I’m looking for someone.
I’m seconds away from hiding out in the kitchen when I notice Lila near one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, holding her mug close to her chest as she looks outside at the snowy landscape. She has a white shawl wrapped around her shoulders that she wasn’t wearing at dinner, framing the delicate curve of her collarbone.
Her blonde hair cascades down her back, and images of gripping it tightly as I lick a trail up her neck runs through my mind. I’d nuzzle my nose against her cheek, breathing in her sweet scent, stopping as I reach her lips, heightening the anticipation of where I would put my mouth next.
It might not be so tempting if I didn’t already know what it felt like to have her within arm’s reach. There’s no denying she is gorgeous, and I’ve done everything in my power to keep my runaway thoughts at bay these past few months. Hell, it was easy when we on opposite sides of the country, yet now that we’re in the same room, my dick is taking this moment to protest my decision to stay at arm’s length.
I drag a hand over my face, determined to shake off this absurd liquor-induced fever dream. It must be the whiskey going to my head.
I’m puzzled when I look up just in time to catch sight of a flash of fur as Winston crashes into my legs, my drink sloshing from the glass, soaking the top half of my light gray pants. He stumbles back, dazed but otherwise oblivious of the mess he’s created.
Lila gasps. “Oh, no,” she exclaims as she rushes over. “Brooks, I’m so sorry. I kept Winn in your grandma’s office during dinner and wanted to give him a chance to stretch his legs. He was so ready to be free and forgot to contain himself.” She sets her own drink down on a nearby side table.
A few people glance in our direction but quickly return to their own conversations.
“I can help with that,” she motions to the stain. “Follow me.”
She tugs on my hand, and I don’t bother resisting as she guides me over to the reception desk, where she grabs a bag full of hand items like breath mints, safety pins, and a mini first-aid kit. She rummages through it, pulling out a pack of wipes and takes a few out.
My breath hitches when she drops to her knees, and I have to look up at the ceiling and take a deep breath. Without a word, she pulls the fabric taut around my crotch, her fingers digging into the material as she rubs the stain vigorously. She furrows her brow in concentration as she scrubs harder, muttering to herself how spiked coffee is a pain in the ass to remove.
I breathe through my nose, trying to rein in my visceral reaction to the irresistible woman kneeling before me. Unfortunately, my dick didn’t get the memo that Lila isn’t there to pleasure me, and grows hard under her touch. I can tell the second she notices when her hand freezes above my zipper. Looking down, I see her mouth parting lightly, and her breaths are fast and shallow. Based on her reaction, I’d assume she likes what she sees, which makes me get harder.
Lila snaps her head up, her gaze locking onto mine. “Oh. Um…I’m sorry.” She yanks her hand away and scrambles to stand up.
My instincts scream for me to reach and steady her, but I resist the impulse, forcing my hands to remain at my sides.
“Don’t worry. It’s just a stain,” I say, knowing damn well that’s not what she’s referring to.
With a downcast gaze, she clutches her hands close to her chest. “Sorry the wipes didn’t do the trick,” she murmurs.
“You use that thing often?” I nod toward the bag on the counter.
She nods, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “As a wedding planner, I have to be ready for anything. You’d be amazed by how messy cake cutting can get.” She chuckles nervously. “Listen, this might sound like an odd request, but if you come back with me to my cottage, I have a stain remover pen that should work on that.” She gestures toward the wet spot on my pants. “I used to have one in my bag, but I had to replace it and keep forgetting to bring the new one over.”
I should say no.
I packed a similar pair of pants, and changing would only take a few minutes. In fact, it’s getting late, and I should head to bed soon anyway. After staying up late last night making work calls and sleeping on a stiff, rickety cot that felt like it would give out at any second, the exhaustion is finally setting in.
Still, this could be my only chance to see the inside of Lila’s cottage, and I’m genuinely curious about the personal touches she’d added to make it her own. I find myself willing to take any opportunity I can to learn more about her.
“I can go if we make it quick,” I say.
“Yeah, okay,” she agrees.
Thank god everyone else is too wrapped up in their own conversations to notice us slip out the back door. Winston has settled into a dog bed near the fireplace, seemingly happy to stay behind.
I follow closely behind Lila, down a pathway illuminated by string lights toward the cottage nestled in the trees. She swings open the gate of a white picket fence, leading us to the cottage with clapboard siding and a steep gabled roof. The windows are framed by black shutters, and flower boxes hang below, brimming with snow. A festive holiday wreath with red berries and pinecones hangs on the front door.
When we step inside, Lila’s familiar scent floods my senses.
The space has been transformed since I last saw it. What was once just a functional space with the essentials, now feels like a home.
A small artificial Christmas tree is set up in the corner, draped with colorful lights, strings of popcorn, and woodland creature ornaments. There’s a queen bed against the far wall with a gray comforter and an assortment of decorative pillows, and a small ramp is positioned at the foot of the bed.
That’s when I notice the collection of snow globes lined up on the mantle above the small fireplace—each displaying a miniature scene of various snow-covered towns or bustling Christmas markets.
“Are these all from places that you’ve visited?”
A shadow briefly passes over Lila’s expression. “I wish. Most were tokens of appreciation from brides who send them from their honeymoon destinations. But there are a handful that I’ve ordered online of places I’d like to visit someday.”
She picks up a snow globe showcasing a small village market, each stall decorated with garland, and a towering Christmas tree in the middle. After giving it a shake, the glitter inside swirls around below, gently drifting down like snowfall as she sets it back on the mantle, letting out a soft sigh.
“Which of these places have you been to?” I motion to her collection.
She shakes her head, her lip caught between her teeth. “To be honest, my trip to California for Andrew and Hannah’s engagement party is only one of the few times I’ve ventured outside of Vermont.” She picks up another snow globe from Dublin with the original Saint Patrick’s Cathedral in the center. “We didn’t travel much growing up, and I started working with Kay right after high school. Wedding season runs year-round, so I haven’t had much time for longer trips.”
It’s hard to ignore the nagging thought that I’m partly responsible for her staying put. Her sense of duty to my grandma keeps her rooted in Starlight Pines, and it pains me to know she hasn’t had the chance to explore the places that decorate her shelf but not her memories.
“If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would it be?” I question.
She runs a hand over the glass of the snow globe still in her hand. “The question is where wouldn’t I want to go? I want to watch the Northern Lights in Iceland, ice skate at Rockefeller Center, snorkel in the Great Barrier Reef, or even skinny dip on Red Beach in Santorini.
My brows shoot up. “Skinny dip?”
She looks at me with a playful grin, the corner of her eyes crinkling. “Why not? It sounds freeing, doesn’t it? I’ve spent my entire life playing it safe, and sometimes I want to just throw caution to the wind and try something that gives me a rush.”
I could think of several things that would give her a rush, and none of them require leaving this cottage.
Lila’s attraction to me is palpable—the way her gaze wandered my body when we were in the kitchen this morning, and the way her tongue grazed her lip just now, her chest rising with each shallow breath.
I rest my hand over hers, carefully taking the snow globe and setting it back on the mantle. Her eyes meet mine, deep and seductive, and she lifts her chin, leaning in slightly so her breasts brush against my chest, making my mind go blank.
Fuck.
It requires every ounce of resistance I have not to grab her by the waist and kiss her again like I’ve wanted to since the first time in that cramped photo booth.
Lila’s gaze shifts, and despite my internal protests, the tension between us fades when she steps back. “I should probably get that stain remover stick,” she murmurs.
I nod. “Good idea,” I concur, though my cock isn’t in agreement.
She goes over to the kitchenette and rummages through a drawer before coming over with a stain remover pen in hand.
Lila stops short when she gets close to me, a blush spreading across her cheeks. “I should probably let you handle it from here.” She holds out the spot remover.
“Thanks.”
After twisting the cap off, I dab the stain on my pants.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Lila stealing a glance at me before she looks away. “You’re welcome to stay here if you’d like,” she offers, training her gaze on her collection of snow globes. “There’s only one bed, but I tend to stay on my side, thanks to Winston. He’s decided his own bed is inadequate”— she nods toward a fluffy dog bed in the corner—“and insists on sharing mine most nights.”
I glance at the bed then back at her, battling the lure of giving in while logic tells me to stay away. Sleeping in tight quarters with the woman who’s been occupying my thoughts would be playing with fire, and the desire to let it consume me might be impossible to resist.
My gaze lingers on her for a moment longer than it should. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be fine in the storage room,” I say, keeping my voice steady.
She shrugs. “Well, the offer stands if you change your mind.” She scrunches her face, and I’m not sure if she’s disappointed or just being polite.
It’s time for me to go.
“You were right; this thing works wonders.” I hand her the stain remover and take a step toward the door. “See you tomorrow, Lila.”
Once I’m outside, I give myself a mental high-five. If self-control was an Olympic sport, I’d be taking home the gold medal tonight.
Given my recent track record where she’s concerned, it’s no less than a miracle that I kept my hands to myself. I know Lila is off-limits, yet, she’s the whole damn package. She’s gorgeous, compassionate, and generous, giving without expecting anything in return. Every small gesture has me inching closer to the edge slowly chipping away at my defenses.