Chapter 24
KENT
Brom was telling me about some college football playoff controversy when I spotted movement at the bottom of the porch steps.
I tried to keep my attention on what he was saying—something about rankings and conference championships—but my eyes kept drifting toward the two figures walking up from the direction of the garage.
“The guy deserves to be benched,” Brom continued, gesturing with his beer bottle. “I mean, what’s the point of playing anybody decent if it’s not going to factor into—”
His words faded into background noise as Sylvie stepped into the light cast by the porch lamps, and I felt like someone had just punched me in the gut.
Fuck me.
She looked absolutely stunning. The dark green dress she was wearing hugged her curves.
The rich velvet fabric made her auburn hair look like it was on fire.
The neckline showed just enough skin to make my mouth go dry, and those boots?
Fuck, those boots made her legs look like they went on for miles.
I’d thought she was beautiful before, but seeing her like this, all dressed up and glowing in the warm light, was like seeing her for the first time all over again.
“Kent?” Brom’s voice cut through my distraction. “You still with me, man?”
I forced myself to focus back on him, hoping he hadn’t noticed where my attention had wandered. “Sorry, what were you saying about the playoffs?”
But Brom was already turning to see what had captured my interest. I watched his expression shift from confusion, to understanding, to something that looked dangerously close to big-brother protectiveness.
“Oh,” he said simply, then took a long pull from his beer. “Well, shit.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just my baby sister cleans up nice, doesn’t she?”
There was something in his tone that suggested this wasn’t entirely a casual observation. I had the distinct feeling I was being tested somehow, though I wasn’t sure what the right answer was supposed to be.
“She looks lovely,” I said carefully, trying to strike a balance between acknowledging the obvious and not sounding like I was ready to devour her on the spot.
Which I absolutely was.
Brom nodded slowly, still watching me with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. “She does. And she’s been working her ass off to make tonight special for everyone.”
The subtext was clear. Don’t mess with her.
I respected that. If I had a sister who looked like Sylvie, I’d probably be just as protective. Hell, I was protective of my brothers’ wives, and they could all take care of themselves just fine.
She got closer. Her hair had been gently curled and styled to fall like silk over one shoulder, pinned back on one side to show off her profile. The front of her dress was low cut enough to make my heart race and my mouth go dry. There was a tiny hint of cleavage. Not a lot but enough.
I felt like a complete simpleton when I stepped forward and offered her my hand to help her up the steps, as if she couldn’t navigate a few stairs on her own. But she took my hand anyway.
“Thank you,” she said with a soft smile.
I had to resist the overwhelming urge to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her close.
Other men were arriving for the party. Lodge guests and locals judging by the way Brom greeted them. I caught more than a few of them checking her out as they passed. I couldn’t blame them for looking. Sylvie was breathtaking tonight, the kind of woman who commanded attention without even trying.
But she was mine. Back the fuck off.
I had the strongest urge to kiss her. Claim her. Make it known that she was off limits.
The thought hit me with a force that had me stepping back.
The intensity of my possessiveness shocked the hell out of me.
I had no business thinking that way about Sylvie.
We’d known each other for what, three days?
And I was here under completely false pretenses, planning to destroy everything she cared about.
And yet, I did think of her as mine. The feeling was irrational and dangerous and completely inappropriate, but there it was.
Brom was saying something about how Sylvie and I had done a good job with the tree decorating yesterday. I barely heard him. There was suddenly a beehive in my head. All kinds of buzzing and humming that drowned out everything except her.
“The place looks incredible,” Brom said, gesturing at the twinkling lights that transformed the lodge into something magical. “Even Mom says so, and she doesn’t have many good things to say about anything these days.”
I turned to Sylvie, trying not to let my gaze linger on how incredible her legs looked in those black nylons and knee-high boots. “Your brother’s giving us rave reviews.”
“We make a good team,” she said.
The simple statement made something warm unfurl in my chest. I couldn’t answer so I simply nodded.
“Come on, guys,” Emmy said. “I’m freezing my ass off.”
We headed inside together. I shrugged out of my coat and hung it on one of the coat racks near the door. I could go up and put it in my room, but fuck that. I was not leaving Sylvie alone with the circling sharks. They were all looking at her. I wanted to poke their damn eyes out.
Brom stayed back to talk with some people he knew. Emmy was immediately pulled away. And I was left with Sylvie.
“You look beautiful,” I said.
She beamed up at me. “Thank you. You look very handsome.”
I had gone with black slacks and a gray cashmere sweater. “Thank you.”
We grabbed glasses of wine from the bar that had been set up in the corner and began mingling with the other guests. The crowd was exactly what I’d expected, lodge guests, local families, people who clearly knew each other well and were genuinely happy to be celebrating together.
“I’ll introduce you to a few people,” she said. “Everyone is very friendly.”
The first person who approached us was an elderly woman with silver hair and the kind of warm smile that immediately put you at ease. Sylvie lit up when she saw her.
“Mrs. Murphy!” Sylvie said, giving the woman a gentle hug. “I’m so glad you could make it tonight.”
“Wouldn’t miss it, dear,” the woman replied, then turned curious eyes toward me. “And who might this handsome young man be?”
I felt my shoulders tense automatically.
This was usually the moment when introductions became awkward, when people started asking what I did for work or making assumptions about my background.
I’d learned to dread the inevitable follow-up questions that came once people heard the Bancroft name.
Just because Sylvie didn’t recognize my name didn’t mean no one else would.
“This is Kent,” Sylvie said smoothly, seeming to sense my discomfort. “He’s visiting from out of town.”
I shot her a grateful look. She’d picked up on my hesitation without me having to say a word.
“How wonderful,” Mrs. Murphy said. “What brings you to our little corner of the world?”
“Just needed a break from the city,” I said, keeping my answer deliberately vague. “Heard this was a great place to experience a real Christmas.”
“Oh, it absolutely is,” she agreed enthusiastically. “The Northwoods know how to do Christmas right. Have you tried the hot cider yet? It’s Gigi’s secret recipe.”
Before I could answer, a middle-aged couple joined our small group. The man had the weathered hands of someone who worked outdoors, and the woman wore a handmade sweater that looked like it had taken months to complete.
“Sylvie, honey,” the woman said. “Everything looks absolutely magical. You’ve outdone yourself this year.”
“Thank you, Carol. Kent, I’d like you to meet Carol and Jim Whitmore. They run the hardware store in town.”
Jim extended his hand for a firm shake. “Nice to meet you, Kent. You picked a great time to visit. December’s our favorite month around here.”
“I’m starting to understand why,” I said honestly.
“So what line of work are you in?” Jim asked.
I felt that familiar knot form in my stomach. I opened my mouth to give some noncommittal answer, but Sylvie jumped in before I could speak.
“Kent’s taking some time off,” she said easily. “We’ve been putting him to work around here instead. He’s got great tree-hauling skills.”
Jim laughed. “Well, that’s useful around these parts. Hope Sylvie’s not working you too hard.”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” I said, relaxing slightly as the conversation moved away from my background.
We chatted for a few more minutes about the weather and local events before the Whitmores excused themselves to get drinks. Mrs. Murphy wandered off to find someone else to catch up with, leaving Sylvie and me alone for a moment. “Thanks,” I murmured.
“No worries. Your secret identity is safe with me.”
I chuckled. “Appreciate it.”
Stacy arrived with Alder and Aspen in tow, both kids dressed up for the occasion.
Alder was wearing suspenders with green pants and a plaid shirt that made him look like a miniature lumberjack.
Aspen had on a red dress with sparkly buttons and little shoes with bows that made her look like a Christmas doll.
Sylvie immediately made a huge fuss over their arrival, ushering them in front of the main Christmas tree to take what seemed like dozens of pictures while gushing about how handsome and pretty they looked.
“Alder, you look so grown up! And Aspen, that dress is absolutely perfect on you. You both look like you belong in a Christmas catalog.”
Watching her with the kids made me feel all kinds of warm and fuzzy emotions I’d never experienced before.
There was something about the way she interacted with them that did strange things to my chest. She was patient and enthusiastic and genuinely delighted by their presence.
She was a great aunt, and I had a feeling she would be an amazing mother.
What the hell was wrong with me? Was it this town, with its relentless Christmas cheer and small-town charm? Was it the wine making me sentimental about things that shouldn’t matter? Was it the decorations and the music and the whole nostalgic atmosphere?
Or was it just Sylvie?
The answer to that question scared me more than I wanted to admit.
I decided right then that one glass of wine was all I was having tonight.
I needed to stay in control. I needed to keep my head clear and remember why I was really here.
If I didn’t start getting results soon and convince the Northwoods to sell, my father was going to cut me off from my trust fund entirely.
I wasn’t actually on vacation. I was working.
I had to stay focused. Without my trust fund, I wasn’t sure who I was.
I would end up broke and stranded in a place just like this. Permanently. Cut off from everything I’d ever known, without access to everything I had always assumed would be mine because of my family name.
The thought should have motivated me. It should have reminded me of what was at stake. Instead, as I watched Sylvie laugh at something Aspen whispered in her ear, I found myself wondering if being stranded here would really be such a terrible fate.
The realization was sobering enough to make me put down my wine glass and step back from the warm circle of light surrounding Sylvie and the children.
I was in deeper trouble than I’d thought.