Chapter Three
MILES
I can’t believe that damn girl is here.
I’ve done my best to get Taylor out of my head since last year and now - on New Year’s Eve of all days - she pops up? Here?
Last New Year, I mentioned all the party drama the next day. Grandma laughed, tapped my cheek and said that Taylor was a “real nice country girl from an old Snowflake family and not wild like those others…” but she was glad I helped out.
I miss my Grandma. It’s been three months since she passed.
A sudden heart attack - the doctors told me she wouldn’t have suffered.
Bobby and I gave her a good funeral, with all the people from her church.
Those good people have checked up on both of us, looking after the house while I’ve been overseas and Bobby’s at college.
The house is empty without her presence - I’ve left her quilts on the beds and most things as they were until we decide what to do with the house.
We also inherited her little log cabin up in the woods of Snowflake, half a mile from Peppermint Lodge.
When I had a call from Ben, asking me if I could take them on a hike to the ski run, I thought I’d combine a little socializing with a stop at Grandma’s cabin to check everything’s in order there.
As my brother wants to spend the New Year with his girlfriend in the city, I don’t want to be sitting in the house alone, watching the fireworks. I had an invitation from some school buddies to go on a bar crawl but to be honest I’d rather be with people who don’t know about my bereavement.
And then Taylor shows up.
It felt like a kick in my guts when I saw her standing there, wide-eyed and so damn beautiful, barely holding onto a fragile champagne glass. It’s clear it’s just as much of a surprise for her as it is for me.
I had seen her once since last New Year - although she didn’t know it.
I was taking Grandma to early service at her church when I was back for Easter and as we were driving down the road, I saw Taylor being dropped off by a smooth-looking guy in a BMW, wearing a short, tight red dress.
Grandma always told me I would be happiest with a woman who loved nature and being outside like I do, not a city girl.
Taylor may be from Snowflake, but I’m under no illusions that she’s not a party girl - the drama last New Year made me sure of that.
But her soft curves in that red dress and the memory of how she stared back at me at the party kept coming into my head at strange moments.
I’m good at getting on with the job at hand and blocking unnecessary stuff out, but when I saw her about to drop that champagne glass, everything I imagined about her reared back into my mind instantly.
Taylor scoots back into the kitchen, her cheeks pink.
I suddenly picture what her skin is like under that tight black dress.
One of the guys in the group, who must be 20 years older than her, is thinking something similar.
He looks like one of those cartoon dogs whose eyes and tongue pop out - shit, I probably look like that too.
Still, it makes me angry that he’s gazing at her so lustfully.
These people aren’t my bag. Ben was a bit of a joker when I knew him, but since his retirement, he’s turned into an oxygen thief.
He’d married a girl from a rich family and it appears to have changed his outlook.
They’re sneering at Snowflake Falls - one of the women calls it “shabby-quaint” - and appear to regard me as some sort of mountain man crossed with the hired help.
Maybe staying at home would have been better.
Still, at least the food is great - platters of freshly made pastries, eggs, homemade bread, caviar, pitchers of juice in flavors I’ve never tasted and champagne on tap.
“Miles, I think we’re ready for you to take us on the trek to the ski run?” Ben is wearing a ridiculous fluffy hat that makes him look like a turnip.
“Sure. I’ll just grab my coat.” I head outside to the hallway to locate the cupboard where I stashed it - this place is huge. As I come back along the hallway I collide with Taylor, who’s rushing in the other direction with a jug of iced water.
“Ouch - oh shit no.” She’s spilt the water all over herself. It soaks through the front of her apron and her nipples poke through the material as they react to the freezing liquid. I’m instantly hard, imagining what it would feel like to run my tongue over them as I plunge my dick inside her.
Wait. I don’t even like her.
I’m holding her arm as a way to stop my chest bashing into her. She has a light perfume on which has a soft, ultra-feminine vanilla scent that contrasts with the formal outfit she’s wearing. She’s probably come off worse in this collision but if she’s shaken she’s not showing it.
I open my mouth to ask her what she’s doing here.
“What are you doing here?” She asks me first, her eyes blazing. She seems angry with me for even existing.
“I want to know what you’re doing here first.” I’m not going to let her get away with bossing me around.
She sighs as if even talking to me is tiring. “I work here. What’s your excuse?”
“My old army buddy asked me to show them the trail to the ski lodge and I have an errand in the area.” I look down at her.
She’s even more gorgeous than I remember, especially with her clothes soaking wet and those pink cheeks, and I suddenly want to pull her towards me for a kiss. And a lot more.
“Well, I guess you enjoy shutting down parties so I hope you have fun tonight.” Her eyes are lovely, even though she’s giving me a hostile glare. Her body is so close to me that the warmth radiating from is heating my skin.
I’m still holding her arm. We’re both staring at each other.
I drop her arm. “See you later.” I move past her down the hallway.
“Wait. Miles.” Her voice is raised. Maybe she forgot to throw in another insult. I stop and turn around.
“Yes?” I can’t help appreciating how the curve of her hips is accentuated by the black dress and the white apron. It’s like every sexy maid fantasy rolled into one.
“Look, I’m really sorry about your grandmother. She would talk to me about cooking and the herbs she grew in her garden in the morning sometimes. She was a lovely lady.” Her face is genuine.
I don’t need this now. That spark of grief I carry around with me every day can be ignited by a sympathetic expression - just like the one she’s given me now.
“Yes, she was. Is that it? I need to go take the group on the trail now.” I point at the door.
Taylor nods her head. Standing there, covered in ice water, looking at me with a mix of sympathy and hostility, she’s the most perfect girl I’ve ever seen.
I have to get my head straight. A bracing hike in sub-zero temperatures with a bunch of rich idiots should do it.
An hour later I’m thoroughly sick of Bunny complaining the snow is ruining her Versace boots, the constant stopping to get Dale’s perfect Instagram selfie in front of exactly the right pine tree and Cindy’s unsubtle flirting, which includes pinching my ass in an “ironic” way.
It’s taking a lot not to just shut this shit down, but out of respect to Ben I grit my teeth.
Once I drop them off at the ski run, I trek back to the lodge, enjoying the peace. The weather is turning, with light snow starting to fall. I know these woods so well, it doesn’t give me pause for thought. I just need to get through dinner and then I can make my escape to check on Grandma’s cabin.
Coming back to Peppermint Lodge, I go to warm up by the blazing fire and read a book. I’m so engrossed that I don’t notice Taylor standing in front of me until I’m aware of that lovely vanilla scent.
“My boss Paul says we should offer all the guests a drink once they’re back. You’re the first one here.” Her voice is flat and polite. “Would you like a drink?”
“Do you have…” I start but she cuts me off.
“This is Peppermint Lodge. They have everything.” She looks back expectantly at me. She’s changed the apron but her dress is still very slightly damp. Her hair is pulled back and it makes me wonder what it would be like to run my hands through those silky waves.
“I’ll have some coffee.” Her reply has irritated me. I don’t want her to think I’m just another idiot expecting her to serve me.
“Great.” I can’t resist appreciating her amazing ass as it undulates out of the room in that skin-tight black dress.
I turn back to my book, not raising my eyes when she comes back in and lays a small silver tray on the table at the side.
“Thanks.” I’m aware she’s left before I examine the tray. It’s pretty cute - a silver coffee pot with a cup and saucer, cream and a dish of little cookies.
I take a sip. It’s the best damn coffee I’ve ever tasted. Maybe I was too harsh with her? Manners aren’t my speciality.
I stare into the fire.
She’s got in my head. What do I do now?