CHAPTER SIX
Lucy
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Lucy watched as Max left the kitchen, trying desperately not to melt into a puddle of warm goo from the way he’d touched her, his mesmerizing green eyes boring into hers just before he leaned in and kissed her forehead.
With trembling fingers, she reached up and touched the spot that still tingled from the brush of his soft lips.
If there was any chance of her not romanticizing his being there, it flew out the window and got lost in the blizzard.
The sweet kiss along with his listening to her talk about the Inn, being genuinely interested in the history and comforting her when she brought up the loss of her mother, caused Lucy’s heart to race with both excitement and fear.
There was excitement over all the possibilities with the man she could currently hear speaking on the phone in the other room, and fear that if her feelings for him continued to grow the way they seemed to each time he was near her, she would be absolutely crushed when he inevitably had to leave.
The reminder that Max’s stay was temporary was like a tack, bursting the bubble of happiness that had grown inside her, deflating her spirits.
Her mother may have been happy with one night of romance because it led to her greatest wish of having a baby come true, but Lucy wanted more than that for herself.
She wanted both the husband and the family, and while sleeping with Max would be fun, she also knew her feelings for him were too deep to come back from having only a one-night stand.
Logically, it made no sense for her to be falling for a man she’d only just met, but then again, nothing about the past couple of days had made much sense.
Rolling her eyes at her ridiculous behavior, Lucy resigned herself to having nothing more than just some friendly company for another day or two and busied herself with cleaning up after breakfast.
After wiping the counters and washing the dishes, Lucy stared out the window at all the falling snow as she dried the frying pans. She was so caught up once again in her thoughts of Max that she didn’t realize he was back in the kitchen until he was next to her, making soft tutting noises.
“You should have left some of the clean-up for me,” he told her, taking the frying pan from her hands and finishing the drying. “You don’t have to wait on me.”
Lucy scoffed and took the pan back from him, making a concerted effort not to smile as his brow furrowed in displeasure. “You are literally my guest, so it doesn’t make sense for you to be cleaning up after breakfast.”
Max turned and leaned against the wooden countertop, his arms crossing over his chest in a way that drew her attention to the lean muscles on display in his tight jumper.
It was dark green and made his eyes look even more brilliant than before, but it wasn’t his eyes she was staring at.
Right now, all Lucy could manage to look at was the way his biceps and pectoral muscles twitched as he moved his arms, and the way the jumper lay against the flat planes of his stomach.
When her eyes traveled higher up, she couldn’t help but admire the man’s neck.
A tendon flexed there, and she had the strangest urge to run her tongue up the length of it.
Finally, her eyes met his, and she saw him peering at her just as intently as she was at him.
She expected a smirk to come across his face since she had once again been caught eyeballing him, but instead she saw his nostrils flare and his eyes fill with heat.
It had been a long time since Lucy had seen anyone look at her with what could only be described as lust, but here she was in nothing more than a pair of leggings and a jumper two sizes too large, and she felt like the sexiest woman on the planet.
He’s not staying, an unhelpful voice reminded her, and it was like a cold bucket of water on her desire.
Putting the pan to the side, Lucy stepped back and gestured toward the family room. “Should we decorate?” She winced when her voice cracked slightly, but Max seemed to think nothing of it. Or so she thought.
Max nodded slowly, the smirk she had expected to see earlier finally making an appearance. “Certainly,” he said, pushing off the counter and heading toward the main rooms. “Lead the way, Miss Lucy.”
The way he said “Miss Lucy” like a gentleman from one of her mother’s favorite historical romance novels had her wanting to swoon like a regency debutante, but she managed to push that feeling away.
If her legs were slightly wobbly as she did so, well, hopefully he wouldn’t notice.
“All the decorations are in the basement.”
When she peered over her shoulder, Max was following closely behind but had a brow raised and a dubious expression on his face. “You have a basement? I didn’t think those were legal in Britain.”
Lucy rolled her eyes at him and chuckled as she led him down the hallway toward the small staircase that led to the large lower floor.
“Yes, they’re legal, it’s just that most people don’t have them.
” She flicked on the lights and started down the stairs.
“You have to put in a lot of work to make them stable and waterproof, but my grandfather was motivated enough to do it.” When they got to the landing, Lucy flicked another light switch to illuminate the cavernous space.
“It’s mostly used for storage, but at one time, grandfather thought about putting rooms down here, so there’s all the rough ins for plumbing and gas.
” Expanding was something her mother never wanted to do, but Lucy had considered it.
More rooms meant more guests and less chance for her to dwell in her grief and loneliness.
Lucy cringed at her wandering thoughts and babbling mouth.
She wasn’t sure why she was going on and on about the basement, only that she needed to talk about anything other than just how much she was attracted to the man next to her and how badly she wanted him to stay for more than just another night.
Max’s easygoing countenance was like a breath of fresh air, a wind of change in a house thick with clouds of grief and loneliness.
Being around him was easy, so easy that she knew the moment he left she would have a hard time with things.
Everything would be like it was before, though the fact that she no longer felt her grief like a twenty-pound weight on her chest spoke volumes to how much Max’s presence had already helped her.
Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all.
With a shake of her head, Lucy put aside those feelings and marched over to the storage racks in the corner. “Here,” she said, pointing to the numerous boxes that contained all the Christmas decorations. “I think this is all of them.”
Max stepped up to her, his eyes wide. “There’s a possibility there are more?” he asked, surprise coloring his voice.
Lucy turned to him, one hand propped on her hip.
“Can you not handle a little decorating?” she challenged.
Max seemed the competitive sort, so she knew issuing a test of some kind would get him back on board.
Lucy had been avoiding decorating for the holidays, not wanting to sift through boxes of items that reminded her of good times with people who were no longer with her.
But now she found herself looking forward to it, reminiscing over each item and even sharing some of the stories behind them as she did.
It didn’t take the world’s greatest detective to figure out the reason why.
The idea of decorating with Max was like a salve on her battered heart, so the act of doing it could only be better.
Max gave her a pointed look, but took the bait. “Of course, I can handle it,” he insisted as he grabbed some boxes and started walking them toward the stairs. “I’m always up for a challenge.” He looked at her over his shoulder and winked before walking up the stairs.
Did he see her as a challenge? If he did, he was mistaken because Lucy was pretty sure he could do little more than crook a finger in her direction and she would come running.
Max was already helping to heal the cracks in her heart, but she had the horrible feeling they would split wide open the moment he left again.
“Oh, dear,” she said to the empty space as soon as she had the realization. She was in so much trouble.
***
Many hours and another full meal later, Max collapsed onto the floor in front of the artificial tree they had just finished stringing lights on.
“This has been so much more than a little decorating,” he said with a sigh.
Throwing his arm over his eyes dramatically, he lay on the ground and groaned. “What do we have left?”
Lucy giggled at the sight of the tall, lanky man splayed out on the rug.
He was all long limbs and took up most of the floor space in front of the tree, but something about it looked very natural, like he had been there for dozens of Christmases before this one.
She couldn’t help herself and lay on the floor next to him, bumping his shoulder with her own.
“Cheer up, Max. We’ve only got a few bits and bobs to place on the tree, and then we’re finished. ”
Max lifted his arm and peeked over at her. “Promise?” His expression was pleading and there was something so innocent and childlike about it that she couldn’t possibly refuse him.
Lucy smiled as she stared at him. “Promise,” she vowed.
Decorating the house with Max had easily been the highlight of the season, perhaps even the year.
They spoke about their shared interests as they strung garland along the banister and just about every other surface of the house.
It turned out that both of them are fans of Doctor Who and Sherlock.
Both prefer to read books about events that actually happened instead of fiction, and both prefer a good curry to fish and chips.
As they hung wreaths, strung lights, and added little touches of Christmas cheer around the Inn, Lucy got to know more about Max.
He told her all about his life in America, how he loved working with his best friend at a small patisserie, and how he had come to love a certain American dish that involved pasta and powdered cheese.
Lucy wasn’t convinced that Kraft dinner would be that delicious, but she loved hearing him talk about it.
She loved hearing him talk about everything, loved watching his eyes light up with mirth as he spoke, and the more she listened and discovered about the man, the harder she started to fall for him.
Max pulled himself up to stand and held a hand down for her.
When she took it, a little zing went up her arm and down her spine, and as he hauled her up, she had the strongest urge to step into his arms and never leave.
From the somewhat dazed expression on Max’s face, he may have felt something very similar.
“Let’s get this done. Then we can work on those biscuits you mentioned. ”
Lucy groaned as she passed him a box of ornaments that would adorn the tree.
“I’m starting to regret telling you about that,” she said.
At lunchtime, over cheese toast and tomato soup, she mentioned having a bit of trouble with the recipe.
Max declared that since he was an “expert baker” he would help her with it until they were good enough to meet her exacting standards.
“Maybe we can do shortbread this year instead.”
Max gave her a knowing look, and while normally she would feel slightly chastised at it, something about the way he already knew her so well made her feel warm and tingly all over.
“You’re not changing a decades-long tradition and you know it.
I’m sure if we put our heads together we’ll be able to figure it out. ”
Lucy tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “Fine. We’ll do the ginger biscuits, but when they turn out like crap, I’m going to give you a big, fat ‘I told you so.’”
Max smiled and reached into the box, pulling out a sprig of mistletoe. He held it up to her and smirked. “And where does this go?”
Lucy was very tempted to hold it directly over her head and get the kiss she had been longing for since the moment he arrived, but she resisted. “There’s a hook on the beam between the living and dining room,” she told him. She pointed out the spot, but Max didn’t move to place it there.
“Are you sure that’s where you want it?” he asked, his voice low and slightly husky.
His jade eyes danced with mischief, but there was also what looked like yearning there.
Lucy wanted to kiss him so badly, but she couldn’t bring herself to declare it.
It had been so long since she’d felt this light and happy that she didn’t want to do anything to upset the balance.
What if they kissed and it went poorly? The rest of Max’s stay would be awkward and she couldn’t have that.
Lucy took a deep breath and looked him directly in the eye.
“That’s where I want it,” she instructed, her voice steady.
Max looked slightly disappointed, but his expression was also one of understanding.
He nodded and turned to hang the mistletoe, but Lucy stopped him with a hand on his arm.
Max looked at her, his eyes questioning. “That’s where I want it...for now.”
Max’s lips twitched in the corner and he nodded again. “For now,” he repeated. Lucy’s eyes followed him as he walked over to the hook and hung the mistletoe, knowing full well that “for now” wouldn’t last nearly as long as it probably should.