Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
HOLLY
Morning After Festival Prep
I’d been back in my childhood bedroom for exactly thirty-seven minutes, and I was already questioning every life choice that had led to me having the best sex of my life with Declan Hayes in a cabin with a single bed and fossilized coffee.
The hot shower had helped with the hypothermia situation, but it had done absolutely nothing for the fact that I could still feel everywhere he’d touched me, or that I kept replaying the way he’d looked at me like I was something precious instead of convenient.
Which was exactly the kind of thinking that had gotten me into trouble with Derek, and I needed to get a grip before I made the same mistakes all over again.
My body ached, in all the wrong places from the shoveling, but I could still feel his thick cock between my thighs, and it made me press them together as my phone rang.
“Holly Winters,” I answered automatically.
“Ms. Winters, this is Jennifer Walsh from Hartwell & Associates in Chicago,” said a crisp, professional voice that immediately made my stomach lurch with guilt and anxiety. “I’m calling to confirm your interview details for this Friday.”
Friday. I had a few days to prepare for the interview that could resurrect my career while also coordinating final festival preparations and apparently navigating whatever the hell was happening with Declan.
“Yes, absolutely,” I said, grabbing a pen and notepad like the organized professional I was supposed to be instead of someone who’d spent the morning digging cars out of snow while having inappropriate thoughts about her former teenage crush.
“We’ll need you online at nine AM Eastern for the full interview process,” Jennifer continued efficiently. “You’ll be meeting with the executive team via video conference. It shouldn’t take longer than an hour. We know the date isn’t the best!”
“That works perfectly,” I said, realizing my hands were shaking.
“Excellent. We’re very excited to meet with you, Holly. Your background in marketing is exactly what we’re looking for, and your references were glowing.”
My references. Patricia, who couldn’t wait to get rid of me. Fucking bitch. She owed me that much.
“Thank you so much,” I said. “I’m looking forward to it.”
After I hung up, I sat on my bed staring at my notepad and trying to reconcile the ambitious, career-focused woman who’d scheduled that interview with the woman who’d spent last night wrapped around Declan Hayes like he was the only solid thing in a world gone sideways.
Chicago represented everything I’d thought I wanted—professional respect, financial independence, the chance to prove that Patricia had been wrong to fire me, and Derek had been wrong to treat me like I was disposable.
It had been my home for years, and the thought of leaving it the way I had sat heavily on my chest. I still had friends there, even though I hadn’t spoken to them in a while.
They were unfinished business, something I had hoped to resurrect if they’d let me.
But Chicago also meant leaving Everdale Falls. Leaving my family, who’d been nothing but supportive during the worst period of my life.
Leaving Declan, who’d just shown me that sex could be something incredible with someone incredible.
I was still trying to sort through the tangled mess of my emotions when my mother’s voice drifted up from downstairs.
“Holly! The festival committee is here!”
Festival committee. Right. Time to pretend I was a competent event coordinator instead of someone having an emotional crisis about career choices and men who made me feel things I wasn’t ready to feel.
I headed downstairs to find my parents’ living room transformed into festival headquarters.
Mrs. Peterson was spread out at the dining table with vendor contracts, Sandra had claimed the coffee table for her volunteer coordination lists, and my mother was bustling around offering everyone coffee and Christmas cookies like we were hosting a holiday party instead of conducting emergency logistics coordination.
“Holly!” Mrs. Peterson called out as I entered the room. “Perfect timing. We need to discuss the hot chocolate station setup and the caroling schedule and—oh my goodness, you look absolutely radiant this morning!”
Radiant. God, I hoped my post-sex glow wasn’t that obvious.
“Thank you,” I said carefully, settling into the armchair and trying to project competence instead of ‘I spent last night having incredible sex and this morning digging cars out of snow.’
“You do look particularly glowing,” Sandra agreed, studying my face with the kind of attention that made me nervous. “Very refreshed. Like you got excellent sleep.”
I had definitely not gotten excellent sleep, but I wasn’t about to explain that to the festival committee.
“Fresh air,” I said quickly. “I was up north for the night.” I couldn’t lie. My mother knew I hadn’t made it home.
“Speaking of which,” Mom said, settling into her chair with obvious excitement, “how did that go?”
“We got snowed in,” I said, sticking to the basic facts. “Had to wait until this morning to dig out the car.”
“Oh, yes, The Hayes’ new vacation home!” Mom blurted out.
“How romantic!” Mrs. Peterson exclaimed, clasping her hands together like she was watching the climax of a holiday movie. “Snowed in together in a cozy cabin during a winter storm!”
“It was very practical,” I said firmly, though what I was thinking was that there had been absolutely nothing practical about what we’d done in that cabin.
“I’m sure it was,” Sandra said with a knowing smile that suggested she wasn’t buying my practical narrative for a second.
Before I could figure out how to redirect the conversation toward actual festival business, the front door opened and Declan walked in, carrying a box of what looked like vendor supplies and looking unfairly attractive for someone who’d spent the morning engaged in manual labor.
“Ladies,” he said with a smile that made my pulse quicken in ways that were entirely inappropriate for this meeting. “Sorry I’m late. Had to pick up the additional extension cords from the hardware store.”
“Declan!” Mrs. Peterson practically sang. “We were just hearing about your snowed-in adventure with Holly!”
I watched a slight flush creep up Declan’s neck as he set down the box and carefully avoided making eye contact with me.
“Just a logistical challenge,” he said diplomatically. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”
Nothing we couldn’t handle. As if being trapped together in a cabin with one bed and prehistoric coffee was just another item on our festival coordination checklist.
“Well, you both look wonderfully refreshed,” my mother observed with the kind of maternal insight that suggested she was reading way more into the situation than I was comfortable with.
“Mom,” I said warningly.
“What? I’m just saying you both seem very... energized this morning.”
Declan finally looked at me, and the brief moment of eye contact sent heat flooding through my entire system.
Because I could see in his expression that he was remembering exactly the same things I was—the way he’d touched me, the way I’d responded, the way we’d fallen asleep tangled together like we belonged that way.
“Right,” I said quickly, grabbing my festival binder and flipping it open with unnecessary enthusiasm. “Should we focus on the final preparations? We have a lot to coordinate.”
For the next hour, we managed to maintain an almost severe focus while reviewing vendor arrangements, volunteer schedules, and contingency plans for weather-related complications.
But I was hyperaware of every time Declan spoke, every gesture he made, every moment when our hands accidentally brushed while reaching for the same document.
And based on the knowing looks the other committee members kept exchanging, our attempts at distance weren’t fooling anyone.
“The hot chocolate station needs to be positioned near the electrical hookup,” Declan was saying, pointing to a spot on the town square map. “But not so close to the caroling area that we have competing noise issues.”
“Agreed,” I said, leaning closer to examine the map and immediately regretting it when I caught a hint of his cologne mixed with the lingering scent of wood smoke from the cabin fireplace.
Focus, Holly. Festival logistics. Professional responsibilities. Not the way he’d whispered my name in the dark or how his hands had felt on my skin.
“What about the children’s craft area?” Sandra asked. “Do we have enough tables?”
“I can pick up additional tables from the church,” Declan offered, making a note in his planning folder.
“That works perfectly,” I said, and our eyes met across the table for just a moment before we both looked away.
“You two work so well together,” Mrs. Peterson observed with obvious satisfaction. “Like you’re perfectly in sync.”
In sync. That was one way to describe it.
“We’ve had practice,” Declan said carefully, and I could hear the double meaning in his words even if the committee members couldn’t.
By the time the meeting ended, my nerves were stretched thin from maintaining my composure while every cell in my body was aware of Declan’s presence.
The committee members gathered their things with obvious reluctance, clearly hoping for more romantic revelations, but I was determined to get through this without providing additional fuel for the Everdale Falls gossip network.
“Same time tomorrow for final coordination?” Mrs. Peterson asked as everyone prepared to leave.
“Absolutely,” I confirmed, though tomorrow I’d also be preparing for my video interview and trying to figure out how to look professional and competent on camera while coordinating festival logistics and daydreaming about Declan Hayes.
“Excellent,” Sandra said, pausing at the door to give me a meaningful look. “And Holly? Sometimes the best opportunities come when we least expect them.”
I had no idea if she was talking about the festival, my career prospects, or my obvious attraction to Declan Hayes, but I nodded like her comment made perfect sense.
After everyone left, I found myself alone in my parents’ living room with Declan, surrounded by festival planning materials and the kind of awkward energy that came from pretending the previous night hadn’t fundamentally changed everything between us.
“So,” Declan said, packing up his notes with careful efficiency. “That went well.”
“Very… professional,” I agreed, though we both knew the committee members had seen right through our attempts at casual distance.
“About last night—” Declan started.
“We should probably focus on festival prep,” I interrupted quickly, not ready for whatever conversation he was about to initiate. “There’s still a lot to coordinate.”
Declan studied my face for a long moment, and I could see him weighing whether to push the issue or let me avoid the topic entirely.
“Right,” he said finally, though his tone suggested he wasn’t buying my deflection. “Festival prep.”
“Exactly,” I said, though what I was thinking was that everything about my feelings for Declan Hayes was complicated, and we were both doing an excellent job of pretending otherwise.
Especially when I had a video interview in Chicago in a few days that could change everything, and I still hadn’t found the courage to tell him about it.
While he was awake, at least.