Chapter 14 #2
“But then we received your phone call earlier this week with the specific accommodation requests.” The phone call. The one I made on Monday afternoon, when I was last-minute Christmas shopping with Ian and Aaron.
They were teasing me mercilessly about this trip. Talking about how romantic it would be in the mountains. How the magic of Christmas would be all around us.
And Ian mentioned how we’d have to share a bed to keep up the pretense.
During the panicked phone call, I was assured my room in our residence would have two twin beds in place of the absurdly large king that normally stands in its place.
Because I don’t want Oliver to feel any more awkward. Or pressured.
Or tempt myself into believing any of this is real.
“Yes … ” Gritting my teeth, I brace myself for what I already know is coming. And work twice as hard to ignore Oliver burning a hole into the side of my head.
“The mattresses that would have served the purpose for separate beds in your room were destroyed because they had biohazardous material that simply could not be extracted appropriately.”
Throat closing off, I barely choke out, “So kids peed on them?”
Mr. Carson nods. “Among other things, yes.”
“When?”
“Yesterday, Ms. Rutherford.”
“Yesterday,” I repeat with a defeated laugh. Sighing, I press my lips together. “So, it’s the regular accommodations, then?”
“Yes, miss.” Mr. Carson leans in conspiratorially. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re my favorite of the Rutherford children.”
Brows raised, I nod. At least there’s that.
“That has its … privileges. For instance,” Carson reaches into his breast pocket, producing two pristine madeleines in a clear baggie, “more sweet treats than your siblings receive.”
Despite the desire to never set eyes on Oliver again, purely out of total and utter embarrassment, a small smile breaks through my dread-filled mask. “Carson, you honey-fingered devil. You’re too good to me.” Opening the bag, the lemony aroma that fills my dreams consumes my senses.
Carson chuckles. “Why don’t you save those for when you need a little pick-me-up? I know spending time with your family isn’t always the easiest.”
Too bad it’s not spending time with my family that has me wound so tight I could produce a diamond at this exact moment. In fact, that sounds like a freaking cake walk right about now.
Nerves have me swallowing anything intelligent I have to say, so I stick with nodding.
Mr. Carson snaps his fingers, summoning two bellhops. “Now, let’s get you to the residence, yes?”
A tight smile forces its way onto my face as Oliver hands over our bags. “Sounds great.” Walking out to the enclosed golf cart complete with snow tires, I take a chance. Not much space is between us to begin with, but I tentatively cross the remainder of the void and take his hand.
The side of his cheek lifts from a hidden smile, his fingers intertwining with mine.
Our ride to the residences only takes a few minutes—the path is one I could drive with my eyes closed. To my shock, disbelief and gratitude, Oliver doesn’t let go of my hand once.
The driver pulls up to the permanent Rutherford residence at Aspen Point Lodge, a humble and meager six thousand square foot luxury cabin with seven bedrooms, eight bathrooms, twenty-foot ceilings, a private pool and hot tub, gym, and home movie theater, all overlooking the mountains that surround us.
A starter home, really.
Oliver’s jaw drops as we climb out back into the cold. “Holy sh—”
“Calloway, Oliver.” My father walks down the brick driveway in his annual holiday loungewear. Somehow, the sweaters keep getting worse. But the pajama pants have pictures of dachshunds all over them this year, so it’s one for one, really. “We were wondering when you’d get here.”
I groan internally. “Who’s already here?”
“Everyone but the twins. They should be here in a little while. Some meetings came up.”
From the corner of my eye, Oliver sweetly tries to help with our bags.
My father, on the other hand, stares at him in confusion.
“Meetings?” I ask to pull his attention away from Oliver. “But Christmas is the day after tomorrow.”
“The world of high finance doesn’t stop for a holiday, Calloway,” he chides.
I can sense a lecture coming on when Oliver drapes a protective arm around my shoulder. “I think Callie’s just ready to have everyone together, is all.”
Nodding, I look from Oliver to my dad. “What he said.”
Oliver’s fingers trace invisible circles on my shoulder, causing my body to shiver in response. Peeking down at me, a smile tugs on his lips. “Well, Mr. Rutherford, we appreciate the personal greeting, but I better get this one inside before she freezes.”
Deciding to really ham it up, I let another shiver rattle my teeth.
Unamused, Dad simply blinks before motioning for us to follow, as if I haven’t been here multiple times a year since I was a kid.
Inside the door, the temperature difference is like walking into a brick wall.
Mom does love the fireplace here.
“The bags should be in your room by now,” Dad tells Oliver before turning to me. “Calloway, I trust you remember the way?”
“I have a Bachelor’s degree, Dad, not amnesia.” I honestly have no idea how I refrain from rolling my eyes. “I know you see both as afflictions, but I promise, one is so much worse than the other.”
Dad’s eyes narrow, but he only sends a curt nod my way before heading off to the master bedroom.
“So, would you like the grand tour, or the condensed version for now?” I ask, giving my fake boyfriend the toothiest smile I can manage. “Because I’m nothing if not an excellent tour guide.”
Oliver snickers. “Oh, I’m sure. But after that last comment to your dad, we may want to lay low for a bit.”
“Good point,” I mutter. “And there’s no telling who else we would run into.
Okay, the condensed version it is. On the middle floor, we have the main living areas.
Kitchen, living room, the Christmas tree of all Christmas trees, that kind of thing.
Oh, and the master bedroom is that way.” I gesture around the general space, earning myself a breathtaking smile from the man who will likely need to have himself committed when we get home.
Taking Oliver’s hand, I lead him toward the stairs.
“Down on the first floor is the gym and movie theater. That’s also how you get to the pool and hot tub. ”
“Good to know,” he nods along.
“And upstairs are the other bedrooms, each with their own bathroom.”
“It’s really modern,” Oliver observes, looking around as we pass through the living room.
My free hand ghosts the brown leather sectional.
“Mom has it redone every couple of years to keep up with trends.” And boy, has she outdone herself this time.
Floor-to-ceiling windows along the wall looking out over the mountainside, stonework climbing to the tallest point on the opposite wall where the fireplace emits heat straight from Hades, all while cedar panels, shined to perfection, line themselves in perfect order on most other surfaces within eyesight.
Adding all the holiday decorations is just the cherry on top.
Climbing the stairs, he says, “I thought your dad said it’s only Chris and Connie that aren’t here yet.”
“He did.”
“Then, where are the others?”
“Ah, you mean that immaculate silence surrounding us? The one where you could hear a pin drop?” It’s true, the builders did an amazing job soundproofing the place.
He chuckles. “That’s the one.”
“They’re probably in their rooms or downstairs somewhere,” I shrug. “Who cares.” Then it dawns on me. “Oh, of course. If we’re being watched, then we need to pretend like we’re in love. Otherwise, we can act normal.”
A slight frown mars those award-winning features. “Right,” he says.
Taking that confirmation as my disheartening cue, I drop his hand as we reach the landing. “We should be safe, for now.” Even if I instantly miss his warmth. Maybe he’ll hold me if I act cold.
Oliver nods, running a hand through his hair.
“Come on, we’re at the end of the hall.” Muscle memory takes over as I make my way toward my room.
Our room.
Each step is one step closer to staring our strange predicament in the face. Up until now, it’s been relatively easy. Hypothetical.
Looking at Oliver like my life depends on it, complete with hugging and handholding? Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
Kissing him in places that our families couldn’t miss if they were legally blind? No problem.
Making out in front of those who might give us trouble? Pass me that sign up sheet, babe.
But this—sharing a bed with Oliver—is something else entirely. We’ll both be at our most vulnerable. We’ll both be so aware of the other person. And it may just make me confront those tiny thoughts deep inside about how this all feels too easy with him.
Dangerously easy.
Like it will never be this easy with anyone else.
The flyer Aaron found in Theo’s Place rears its ugly head in the forefront of my mind, causing me to swallow down the bile that accompanies it. Because none of this is real for him.
Only me.
Reaching our door, I rip off the bandaid and turn the knob.
“Home sweet home,” I say, my voice sounding like my foot’s been clawed up by a rabid hyena.
The bedrooms aren’t typically privy to Mom’s remodels, so the features are a little older up here.
A large, deep red chest of drawers with a flat screen mounted above it sit against the wall to the corridor while two plush chairs and a small bistro table wait to be used by the large glass sliding door leading onto the private balcony.
Cedar paneling follows the downstairs trend, with matching nightstands on either side of the intricate wrought iron bed.
“Mom only updates the bedrooms every five years or so,” I admit, “but the bathrooms were updated during this last round of overall updates.”
Oliver discards his coat in the closet and peeks into the sleek bathroom with all-white marble, the clawfoot tub and designer shower.
But the light at the end of this tunnel waits for us on the dresser, with our bags resting on the floor beside it.
Mr. Carson’s madeleines.
While Oliver checks out the rest of the room, I drop my coat on the bed and unwrap a madeleine, heading to the sliding glass door. At this time of day, the remaining sunlight hits the snow perfectly, as if it's glittering. The familiar sight helps the rolling nausea.
Mostly.
“Callie,” Oliver says from the other side of the room. “Will you look at me? Please?”
Swallowing the last bit of my cake, I turn to face him.
Oliver leans against the dresser just like the last time I was in his office, and I’m tempted to ask him to roll up his sleeves and put on his glasses.
“Are you okay?” he asks, folding his arms over his chest.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you tried to ensure we had separate beds only a couple of days ago.”
“Oh, that.”
Oliver dips his chin, eyes never leaving mine. “That.”
All the flipperiest nuggets.
Jutting out my lower lip, I shake my head. “Just wanted to make sure you were comfortable with, um, everything while you were here, is all.” I clear my throat with a little too much vigor. “I know this is all a lot to take in.”
“Do you?” He lifts a brow.
“I mean, I’m guessing. But I’ve always been a good guesser.”
“I’ll admit, it was quite the surprise to hear that your family owns this place,” he nods.
Running a hand down my face, I groan. “I was gonna tell you, honestly. I just … other than when I’m actually with my family, I live so far outside of that world. I know what everyone thinks about us.”
“That’s not entirely true.”
“Your dad called them wolves,” I point out, “and he’s not wrong.”
Oliver snorts, pushing off from the dresser that’s been holding him upright. A few long-legged strides later and the man is only a breath away. Tender eyes roam my face, asking for permission. My brief nod is all he needs before wrapping those strong arms around me.
Resting his chin on top of my head, I breathe in the scent that is purely Oliver.
“Callie,” he murmurs, lips pressing into my hair, “I don’t want you to worry about my comfort here.
If you’re around, then I’m perfectly at home.
I’m here to make sure you feel safe, to make sure there’s someone here you can count on, no matter what.
” Leaning away, curious blue eyes pin me in place. “You know that, right?”
Swallowing, I nod. “Oliver?”
“Yeah, baby?”
His instance on the pet names even when we’re alone brings a smile to my face. “Will it be a problem that I prefer to sleep in the nude?”
Oliver’s entire body freezes. I don’t even think I can feel his heart beating. The man finally blinks, a rush of blood flooding every visible inch of skin. I’ve never seen someone look like a tomato so quickly. “Uh-uh, that may, um, complicate—”
Bursting into laughter, I move out of his hold. “Just kidding!” Through squinted eyes, I can just make out the relief written all over his face. “Don’t worry, I definitely look like I’m hanging out on the frozen tundra when I sleep.”
Oliver swallows. “I mean, I want you to be comfortable … ” If he was wearing a turtleneck, he’d be pulling at the collar right about now.
Placing a hand on his arm, I grin up at the most wonderful man. “Thanks, but I’m good in my eight hundred layers of fleece.” I use a time check as an excuse to look away from Oliver’s residual shock.
Otherwise, I’d be tempted to kiss it away.
“Surely the others are here by now. I’m starving.” Stepping around him, I head toward the door. A quick look back shows that only his gaze has moved, watching my every step. “Ready to go act like we’re halfway down the aisle?”
Piercing blue eyes snap to mine. “You have no idea.”