Chapter 23
Cole
The plow had cleared the main road, so the morning after our “snow day,” I got up before Gavin and headed to the inn to start work.
Dale and his guys were already there as I pulled my truck in and killed the engine.
I decided to start rewiring while the walls were open and the studs bare.
By the time I packed up for the day, my arms ached from hauling around my ladder and pulling spools, and my hands were stiff from twisting connections in the cold.
Having no heat in the inn only made the work more miserable.
During my short lunch break, I tried to warm up in my truck, but that only made me feel tired.
Just after Dale left, I locked up, tossed my tool bag in the truck, and sat in it with the heater running.
The weekend forecast called for more flurries, and if it landed hard, I might lose more days if the roads became impassable again.
Lost days would push everything closer to spring, and spring was when Gavin aimed to reopen.
If I didn’t get ahead, I’d end up watching him try to smile through worry.
I wanted to stop that before it started.
By the time I pulled into my driveway, dusk had already settled, and lights glowed through the front windows. The second I opened the door, the smell of garlic and tomatoes made my stomach growl.
I kicked off my boots, then unzipped and hung up my coat before heading into the kitchen.
Gavin stood at the stove, spoon in hand, watching steam curl out of a pot.
The oven light was on, and a timer ticked down.
The table was set with plates, mismatched glasses, and paper towels folded by each spot.
Nothing fancy, but it still looked like more than I’d bothered to do for myself.
“You’re cooking,” I stated the obvious.
He turned with a quick grin. “I am.”
“I didn’t expect this.”
“You worked all day in a freezer, and I bet you’re hungry. Go shower. Dinner will be ready when you get back.”
I wanted to stand there and watch him, but I needed to get warm and a hard scrub more. “I’ll be quick.”
After stripping out of my clothes, I stood under the hot spray, bracing my palms on the tile while the heat worked through the ache in my shoulders.
The smell of garlic and bread had followed me down the hall, and it stuck with me.
Whitney never once had dinner waiting when I came home.
Most nights she worked late, and we picked something up, or I cooked for both of us.
The last time I’d come home to a hot meal and a ready table was back in high school when Mom prepared the family meal and Dad set the plates out while she finished up.
I hadn’t let myself miss that, but standing with water pouring over me while Gavin moved around in my kitchen, hit me harder than I wanted to admit.
It felt good. Too good. Like something I could look forward to, like a reason to want to be home, and that scared me.
Gavin wasn’t at my place to play house with me.
He was here because the inn had no plumbing or electricity.
Once it did, he’d go back, and what we were secretly doing would stop.
Or would it?
I turned off the shower and grabbed a towel, pushing the thought aside before it could take root. I pulled on a clean T-shirt and pajama pants, ran a towel through my hair, and headed back down the hall.
He was pulling bread from the oven when I walked into the kitchen. As he set the loaf on the counter, he looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Perfect timing.”
“Thanks for cooking for me. I honestly don’t remember the last time I came home to dinner waiting.”
“It’s no biggie.”
I sat, and he placed a big bowl of spaghetti in the center of the table. After he handed me a beer and then took the chair across from me, both of us filled our plates with the noodles and meat sauce.
I twirled a forkful and took a bite. “Damn.”
“Good?”
“Really good.”
He laughed. “It’s just sauce from a jar, but I doctored it up a little.”
“Don’t ruin the magic. I’m eating.”
We worked through a few bites in silence. He sliced a piece of garlic bread from the loaf and put it onto my plate. I tore it in half and wiped up sauce, trying not to think about how natural he looked sitting across from me.
“You get much done at the inn?” he asked, then stuck a fork full of pasta into his mouth.
I swallowed my bite. “Started the wiring upstairs by running lines through the two rooms at the far end of the hall, and I’ll keep moving through the others tomorrow.
Dale’s crew worked on the plumbing, so we’re moving on both ends.
I’m planning to talk to my dad tomorrow about bringing in more help because if we get another storm, I can’t afford to lose days. ”
“More help?”
I twirled another forkful of pasta. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I need to bring in a crew. If I can get two steady guys for a month, we’ll keep moving even if the storm slows us down.”
Gavin looked up. “Why now?”
“Because if I don’t, we’ll fall behind. Every day we lose to the weather makes it harder to stay on track. You want to open in the spring, and I’m not going to miss that deadline for you.”
“That makes sense. You think you’ll be able to get someone?”
“I’ll make the calls tomorrow and see if my dad knows anyone.”
“Then do it. If it keeps us on track, I’m all for it.”
After I wiped my mouth with the napkin, he reached across and brushed his thumb near my chin.
“You missed a spot.”
I stilled. He pulled back like the touch was nothing, and maybe it was for him. It didn’t feel like nothing to me. I cleared my throat and took a drink.
“You’ve got that look,” he observed.
“What look?”
“The one where you’re thinking about something you won’t say out loud.”
I tore off another piece of bread to buy myself a second. “You must’ve been looking real close to catch that.”
“Hard not to,” he replied.
We went back to eating, and then I asked, “So, how was your day?”
He set his fork down. “Good. I wrote a lot.”
“How much is a lot?”
“About three thousand words. Cut some too.”
“Nice. What’s the scene?”
“The two guys finally stop pretending they don’t want each other and give in to their desires.”
I twirled more pasta, forced myself to keep my eyes on the plate, and tried not to think about how close that sounded to what we were doing right here. I cleared my throat. “Sounds bold.”
“It is,” he admitted. “I kept putting it off, circling around it, writing everything but that scene. Today it finally came out.”
“You happy with it?” I looked at him again.
“Yeah. For once, I didn’t hate it when I read it back.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “It felt honest. Like I wasn’t hiding behind safe words anymore.”
I chewed slowly, buying myself a second. “Safe words?”
“The kind of writing that doesn’t dig deeper. It looks fine, but it doesn’t mean anything. I’ve been stuck in that for a while.”
“So this scene means something?”
“It does.” His eyes caught mine across the table. “It’s the part of the book laying the foundation for those three little words.”
I reached for my beer. “Good. That’s what you needed, right? To get to the happily ever after?”
“Not quite.” He pushed a piece of bread around his plate. “The characters will end up breaking up soon.”
“Really?”
He lifted a shoulder. “It’s the formula.”
“Formula?”
“The characters meet, fall in love, break up for some reason, learn they can’t live without each other, and then one hero fights for the other. Then they get back together and have their HEA.”
“And here I thought you just wrote sex,” I teased.
Gavin barked a laugh. “Oh, there’s sex. Dirty, dirty sex.”
“Oh really?”
“Don’t worry. I won’t make you read it.” He laughed under his breath. “You’d probably blush.”
“I don’t blush.”
“You do. I’ve seen it.”
I shook my head and took another bite, ignoring the fact that he wasn’t wrong, but also curious about the sex scenes he was talking about.
Instead of discussing it further, we finished our meal talking about mundane topics. Afterwards, I stood and reached for his plate to clean up.
“I can help,” he offered.
“Then load while I rinse.”
We worked in tandem until the last fork clinked into the silverware rack, and he leaned a hip on the counter and watched me like he could read every thought I wasn’t saying.
And maybe he could. Because what I wasn’t saying was that I liked this.
I liked him in my kitchen, him making me dinner, us talking about our day, and the two of us working side by side without even thinking about it.
I hadn’t had that in years, not even when I was married, and I’d sworn I didn’t want it again.
Yet here I was, liking it anyway. I never pictured myself in this place, not once, but it felt right in a way I didn’t know what to do with.
“You going to call your dad tonight or in the morning?” he asked as he dried his hands.
“I’ll wait until the morning.”
We stood there a moment, then he nodded toward the living room. “You up for a movie before bed?”
“Yeah, for a little bit. My shoulder’s tight.” I rubbed at it, trying to work the knot out myself.
Gavin’s eyes caught the motion. “I can get that for you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
I gave him a look. “First you feed me, now you’re offering a massage. Sounds like you’re just trying to get in my pants.”
His mouth curved. “Maybe I am.”
I snorted. “At least you’re honest.”
“Always,” he returned. “Come on, let’s pick a movie.”
We moved into the living room, the glow from the tree throwing light across the walls. He grabbed the remote, flipped through a few channels, and stopped on a Hallmark Christmas movie. “This work?”
I snorted. “You’re serious?”
“Completely. Small town, holiday magic, two people who don’t know they’re perfect for each other? Every plot’s the same, and that’s why it works. It’s the whole point of the holiday season.”
I shook my head. “You actually watch this stuff?”
“Obviously. Don’t tell me you’ve never seen one.”
“Not all the way through.”
“Then tonight’s the night.” He dropped onto the couch, pulling the blanket down. “Consider it cultural education.”
I shook my head but sat next to him. Not long after the movie started, a woman in a red coat bumped into a man carrying a Christmas tree, making both of them laugh like it was fate.
I rolled my shoulder, the knot still tight.
“Told you I’d get that.”
His thumb pressed into my shoulder, applying firm pressure until I let out a breath. “Better?”
“Keep going.”
I watched the screen while he worked at the knot in my shoulder. The guy on screen was teaching the city woman how to cut down a tree.
“I give it five minutes before he hands her hot chocolate.”
“Ten,” I countered.
“You’re on.”
His hand kept working, easing the tight muscle. When the guy pulled a thermos out of his truck, Gavin let out a soft laugh.
“Told you.”
I shook my head, but I didn’t move away.
His fingers didn’t let up, working the spot until the ache gave. The movie continued with a scene with holiday lights and carolers, which I wasn’t paying attention to.
His hand slid across my chest and lower.
“You’re missing your movie,” I told him, knowing exactly what was about to happen.
“I can watch and multitask,” he answered, his palm descending even farther.
“Pretty sure Hallmark doesn’t allow that.” I grinned.
“Good thing this isn’t Hallmark,” he whispered into my ear as his hand slipped into the waistband of my pants. And just like that, the movie was forgotten.
* * *
The next morning, I got to the inn early. Snow had started to crust around the edges of the lot, but Dale’s guys had cleared the walk enough to haul tools in. I was running wire through the studs when Ryan’s truck pulled into the lot, and he and Allie climbed out.
“Thought we’d stop in,” Ryan called as they came inside. “Allie wanted to see what you’ve done so far.”
I wiped my hands on my jeans. “Sure. Come on up.”
We climbed to the second floor, and Allie’s eyes went wide as she stepped into one of the rooms. “Wow. Once we get paint on the walls and the new furniture in place, this’ll be gorgeous.”
Ryan’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. “I need to take this. Be right back.” He stepped into the hall, leaving me with Allie.
She turned to me, her smile warm. “So, how are you feeling about it?”
“About what?” I adjusted the spool on my arm.
“Being the muse.”
I furrowed my brow. “Muse for what?”
“For Gavin’s book.” Her tone was light, like it was obvious. “He told me he’s writing your story. The nights at your place, dinners together, you decorating a Christmas tree together—it’s all in there.”
The wire slipped in my grip. “Um, what?”
“Yeah. He’s excited. He hasn’t written this much in months, and he said you gave him the words back.”
Gavin had told me he was writing again, and even mentioned a scene with two men who stopped pretending. I thought it sounded close to our story, but I didn’t know it was us. Not our private nights, not our intimate moments, not the parts of my life I hadn’t shared with anyone else.
Allie’s smile faltered. “He didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry, Cole. I didn’t mean—”
I cut her off with a shake of my head. “It’s fine.”
But it wasn’t fine. Gavin hadn’t told me he was writing our story. My story with a man. And I couldn’t get past the thought of it sitting on a page for anyone to read.