Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Ryder
I’m not sure what I expected when I walked through those doors.
I told myself I was just checking in and keeping an eye on things—a professional survey of Sunny’s little Tinsel and Toddy experiment.
But here I am, standing at the threshold of the hotel lobby, dressed in my best coat, scanning a room full of holiday revelers.
The scent of mulled wine and cinnamon mingles in the air. Music plays, soft, upbeat jazz, while a group of locals crowd around the hot toddy bar, eagerly lining up for whatever overpriced concoction Sunny’s turned into an event.
I wasn’t planning on sticking around, at least not for long. I wasn’t going to stand here and pretend I was enjoying myself.
Not when the finances are in the state they’re in. Not when I know the mountain of problems still waiting for me tomorrow.
But damn it, I’m here.
And I can’t help but notice that the lobby is packed.
I expected a handful of people. Maybe a few regulars came in out of sheer curiosity.
But no. The place is full.
People are laughing, chatting, and looking at the décor as though they’ve stumbled into a Christmas wonderland. There’s Pearl, tipsy and giggling while flirting with a fireman.
Chef Andre, who I’m pretty sure is allergic to smiling, is actually smiling as he hands out a tray of gingerbread samples to a group of tourists.
Sunny’s cat, Tinsel, is wearing a Santa hat. Of course, she shakes it off within seconds, but the image still gets a chuckle out of me.
Sunny’s makeshift charm offensive, it seems, is working.
And there she is, moving through the crowd with that effortless grace of hers. In a red sweater dress, her hair loose and falling around her shoulders, laughing as she engages with everyone she passes.
I’ve never seen Sunny like this before. Enthusiastic, unfocused, a little chaotic, but tonight there’s something different. There’s an energy to her that’s undeniable. She’s the heart of this place. Every person she talks to, every smile she receives, seems to ignite the room.
The whole hotel feels alive in a way it hasn’t in years.
I watch her as she flits from one group to another, making small talk with a couple of out-of-towners and then turning to greet the local baker who just arrived with her chocolate cookies.
She’s the perfect hostess, even when the logistics are a mess and the budget is hanging on by a thread. There’s no sign of the stress I know she’s been under. The mess has been transformed into something tangible. Warm.
Wow.
She might be able to pull this off.
The hotel is quieter now, with the once-bustling lobby leaving only the faintest echoes of laughter and the smell of cinnamon still lingering.
The aftermath of the Tinsel and Toddy event is a bit of a blur.
A blur of good intentions, slightly disheveled staff, and a sense of something that could be the start of something bigger.
I slip into the kitchen, hoping to escape the noise. The last remnants of holiday cheer have settled, and I need a moment to breathe.
Then, of course, I see her.
Sunny’s bent over the counter, cleaning up, the flicker of the overhead lights casting long shadows across the kitchen. For a moment, I just watch.
She looks every bit the part of a woman who has thrown herself into something without thinking twice. Her hair wild, her face flushed, and that look in her eyes. Determined, in a way that draws me to her.
It’s a look I haven’t seen from her before, and it stops me in my tracks.
She doesn’t notice me at first, too absorbed in wiping down the counter, but when she finally does, her eyes meet mine with that same light: half exhaustion, half triumph.
She smiles, but it’s not the playful grin she usually gives me. This one feels real.
Earned.
“That was something,” I say, breaking the silence.
I can’t quite place the emotion sitting in my chest, but it’s there.
It’s the surprise, the acknowledgment that she created this event, and it was more successful than I imagined. I didn’t expect that she could pull this off.
Her smile widens.
“You’re not the only one who’s surprised,” she says, a laugh escaping her lips. “But I told you I was just getting started.”
The moment hangs between us. Too long, too charged. The air itself has pulled taut with something neither of us can define.
I watch as she takes a step back, her fingers twitching as if she’s unsure whether to break the tension or just let it linger. She glances away, as though to hide the way the moment is starting to make her nervous.
I don’t let her pull away.
I step forward, closer this time, until I can see the tiny flecks of glitter on her cheek, the way her breath catches when she realizes what I’m doing.
“Sunny,” I say, barely a whisper. The word feels heavier than I expected. “You surprised me tonight.”
She swallows, her breath catching in her throat, and my eyes follow the movement. I watch the way her lips part slightly, the way her pulse beats just a little faster, and for a moment, I wonder if this is all a mistake.
If I should pull back, walk away, before this gets even more complicated than it already is.
But then she leans in just a little. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but enough that my chest tightens.
It’s a spark in the dark.
I feel it before I see it, the invisible pull, the electricity crackling in the space between us. Every inch of my body tightens, and I swear I can feel her warmth bleeding into my skin.
My hand twitches, desperate to touch her. To close the gap, to make this real. I reach for her. My fingers graze the edge of her arm, the delicate fabric of her sweater, and in that moment, I can’t breathe.
The distance between us is nothing, yet it might as well be miles, and the pressure building in my chest is unbearable.
I stop myself, my breath shallow, hovering on the edge. Everything inside me is screaming to pull her closer, but I can’t shake the thought of what this will do, how much it could ruin.
And yet, the noise in my head falls away as her gaze locks with mine, those stormy eyes flashing. But her emotions are unmistakable.
She doesn’t look away. Neither do I.
Her lips part just a fraction more, and I swear it’s an invitation. I feel it in every inch of my body. The way she’s pulling me in, slowly, tantalizingly.
The scent of cinnamon still lingers, and it mixes with the heat that’s suddenly building between us, an intoxicating blend of warmth and tension.
I don’t think. I can’t.
I close the space between us in a single movement, catching her lips with mine. It’s tentative at first, soft. Both of us are testing the waters, waiting to see if this is really happening.
Her breath is sweet, the slightest hint of gingerbread lingering, and I feel the tremor in her hand as she places it on my chest. I can’t focus on anything else.
Then she reacts. She pulls me closer, and everything shifts. There’s heat, and then there’s pressure, intensity, as if we’ve both been holding back for far too long, and now neither of us can stop.
It’s not just a kiss. It’s a release, a rush that I haven’t felt in years.
Every reason I’ve ever told myself to stay away is drowned out by the sharp need pulsing through me. She’s all warmth and softness, but there’s a fierceness in her touch, something untamed that makes my head spin.
And when she moves closer, pressing herself into me, I know I’m lost.
This isn’t just a kiss. It’s everything we’ve been dancing around, the unspoken tension finally shattering in the most explosive way.
I’m consumed by it. By her. By the way she feels beneath my hands, the way she tastes, the way her breath catches in the back of her throat when I pull her even closer.
The heat between us spreads fast as wildfire, and suddenly, there’s no more room for the rest of the world.
There’s just her. Just this.