Chapter 9 Warming Up
WARMING UP
HOLDEN
At the risk of her lobbing another spatula at my head, I began.
“Lilah, there’s something I need to explain about your wedding day with Brad.”
She picked at the remains of her sandwich, and avoided looking at me, but didn’t tell me to stop.
I swallowed hard. “Please understand—”
“I heard plenty that day. We don’t need to discuss it.”
“No. You jumped to conclusions.”
Stubbornly, she glanced away, and crossed her arms in front of her chest. But she didn’t leave, so I continued.
“I barely knew you then. We’d only met once before. I didn’t know how to tell you the things I knew about Brad. I was stuck between protecting one of my oldest friends, but knowing what he did wasn’t right.” I hung my head and thought of the night Brad and I had first met Lilah.
We’d partied in Ibiza with some other friends.
Lilah was the young assistant chef on the yacht we’d chartered, and her work ethic impressed me.
Vivacious and skilled, she rose to the challenge to feed us entitled rich guys.
Every single time I locked eyes with her icy blues, my insides turned over.
Never had I experienced such an instant connection like it with another woman.
All the signs of her interest in me were there, or so I thought, and I’d planned to make my move by the second night onboard—except I found Brad with her, talking on the bow.
They were lost, deep in conversation, bonding over their passion for cuisine, and his family’s international restaurant business.
I noticed the look in his eyes when he was with her. So I backed off, letting him have her—a decision I regretted over the years. Where might we be today if I hadn’t?
Then again, at that age, I had recovered from my fall down the mountain, and then buried myself in partying night and day. Reeling from losing all hope of Olympic glory, the last thing on my mind was anything like a relationship.
But now…?
“If you recall, I had brought an old college friend of ours as a date to the wedding. Chantal was my plus one,” I continued explaining to Lilah about the events of her wedding day.
Her jaw tightened. “Chantal? How could I forget? Brad and I had the worst fight ever after the rehearsal dinner since he could barely keep his eyes off of her. And when they blatantly flirted with each other right in front of me—”
She stopped herself and turned away, cheeks flaming red. Good to know she had a jealous streak.
“Yeah, I was there, remember?” I continued. “Only I swear, I had no idea Brad and Chantal had been hooking up for years, even while he was seeing you.”
“It was a complete shock to find out that my fiancé wasn’t who I thought he was.”
“When he admitted to their ongoing affair, it made sense then why she talked me into taking her as my date.”
Lilah snapped her attention back to me, eyes on fire. “Your voices carried while I waited for my dad to come get me and walk me down the aisle. You wanted to set Brad and her up to be together the night of our wedding—”
“No, I made a joke,” I retorted, voice raised and agitated. She flinched. “A sarcastic, stupid, poorly timed one.”
“You said, ‘Should I arrange a rendezvous for you and Chantal after you put your bride to bed?’ That’s what I heard. How could you?” Her eyes watered, angry and hurt, and it was all I could do not to reach for her.
“But I wasn’t agreeing with him,” I added. “I was mocking him. That’s how I deal with things. Humor first, even if it’s not funny.”
She said nothing, but I could tell I was getting through to her.
I shook my head. “Brad laughed, like the absolute jackass he was. And right when I started to say, ‘Jesus, Brad, how could you do this to Lilah?’ we could hear you screaming in the chapel where you announced to all the guests that you would not be marrying him.”
I remembered running into the chapel, stopping at the sight of how visibly crushed she was, with drooping shoulders, tears down her cheeks, fingers yanking out all the bobby pins holding her hair in place.
She’d run out of a side door and through the old abbey in Lucerne, flinging her veil behind her.
I’d turned back to Brad, who sat down on a chair along the aisle, produced a flask from his jacket pocket, and took a prolonged swallow. He’d said, ‘Well, that’s finally over. It got harder and harder to cover my tracks.’
Then he laughed with evil intention, as if the fact he’d carried on a serious relationship—even co-owning and opening a restaurant together in Lucerne with Lilah—didn’t matter.
Like it was all disposable and he could finally wash his hands of it, and return to the irresponsible playboy he always was.
His guests and family turned on him, flailing their questions and accusations.
Disgusted, I ran, calling Lilah’s name and searching for her.
By the time I found her, she had rushed into a taxi at the curb and taken off.
I yelled for her and ran after the car for a block, all the while she glared at me from the back seat, as if I was the reason for the demise of their relationship.
“If it matters, I haven’t seen or talked to Brad since that day,” I finished.
She swallowed hard. “Still, you’re probably just like him.”
My chest squeezed, irritated by her incorrect assumption of me. “Never. Don’t lump me in with that asshole. Not for a single second. If you’ve forgotten, I was the only man running after you and the taxi.”
Her voice shook. “From what I heard, it seemed like you were his accomplice in his cheating.”
“Lilah, no. I was angry for you. Believe me, when I returned to the chapel after chasing your taxi, I gave Brad a piece of my mind. We almost came to blows over it. I left Switzerland, and that was the last I saw of him.”
She shifted focus down to her hands. “But the rumors I’d heard about you seemed true. A playboy like him, both grown men playing games with women.”
“Playboy maybe, but never a cheater,” I assured softly. “I wasn’t then, and I’m sure as hell not now.”
The candlelight flickered between us. For the first time… she peered up at me and let me see the damage there, the old wound, the pain on her pale face, deep worry in her crystal blue eyes.
“The humiliation of investing that much time into someone only to see it wind up in ruins was too much to bear. I had to run. I couldn’t marry him.”
“No one could blame you. I hated myself for years, thinking if only I hadn’t brought Chantal with me… Even wondering if, once Brad got the ring on his finger and took vows with you, that he would have changed for you.”
Her eyes watered. “I doubt it would have made a difference to him. But it changed me. I have been carrying a grudge all this time. And then seeing you here—you were convenient to lash out at.”
I gave a small nod. “I can take the heat. But at least now you understand the truth.”
The silence between us wasn’t heavy this time. It was honest. I hoped that might lay to rest whatever bad feelings she held toward me.
Finally, she lifted her chin and swiped a tear away. She stood and stacked the plates and bowls. “I should clean up.”
“I’ll help.”
She didn’t protest, surprisingly. I took the cue to dry things when she handed a towel my way.
We worked in silence, in tandem, our elbows rubbing.
I became hyper-aware of her breathing, of her chest rising and falling, of that chef’s coat and whatever magic might be underneath. Soon, the heat became all-consuming.
At one point, our fingers tangled while passing a wet dish between us. We both held onto it, so it didn’t fall and break. Our eyes met, breaths mingled, and she whimpered like I had some kind of effect on her.
If only she knew what every second of being around her did to me. Calm down cock. This was not the time or place for my stiff member to show up, too soon after having laid the past to rest. If he were to appear right now, it could ruin all the progress I just made with her.
Her lips were so inviting though. “Lilah…” I whispered, my desire for her taking the lead.
I bent down, heading for her lips. Once there, I brushed over them with the lightest touch, a test, making sure she didn’t throw me out.
“Lilah,” I repeated against her lips, because I loved the way her name sounded there—but an alarm on my phone played loud and clear, breaking us apart.
The moment ruined. She let go of the plate and let me have it, turning away.
“Another weather warning,” I sighed. After drying the dish, I scrolled through my texts, understanding what we were in for. “Tonight should be the worst of it.”
She quieted as she removed the drain cover to let the water out. When I had the last dish put away, I chuckled, closing the cabinet door. “Would you look at that? I managed to help you do something and didn’t break a single thing.”
“The night’s still young,” she teased and shook her head.
“I’m not always this destructive, you know; just grew up with a father who hired professionals for help around the house. I’m not even sure he owned a hammer,” I snickered. “But I really love this lodge. I’ve put my heart and soul into it for the past couple of years. Couldn’t be prouder of it.”
“I can tell. And honestly, Holden, Quest Lodge and the restaurant are beautiful. I’ve toured the property a little since I arrived, and I think once the lodge opens it’s going to be a very popular attraction for ski enthusiasts from around the world.
” She scrubbed a spot only her trained eye could notice on her clean counter.
“I am happy to be here. You’ve built something truly special. ”
“Paying me compliments now? I like it.” I quirked a brow.
She stopped me with a hand in the air.
“Don’t go getting your ego wrapped up in what I just said. Take the compliment and move on,” she chortled.
“Move on, sure. Speaking of, what should we do with ourselves the rest of the night?” I placed one hand on the counter she just wiped, the other in my pocket, casually drifting closer to her.
Shorter than me, her head dipped back to peer up. The light caught her pretty eyes and twisted my gut. I knew exactly what I’d like to do with her—carry her off to bed, show her a good time.
Now that she seemed to warm up to me, nothing wrong with a casual affair for Christmas.
We were both adults who could work professionally and not make it awkward.
Besides, after the holidays she’d probably be too busy to come out of her kitchen to see me, anyway.
Unless we didn’t stop, and made this a rather convenient arrangement well into the New Year? My mind raced with possibilities.
“I-I have more work to do. Did you say you’d set up cots? And do you know where to find them—in the basement storage room? And grab pillows, sheets, and several blankets, too,” she ordered.
“You’re pretty bossy, Frosty, you know that?” I nearly hovered over her now, our bodies close, eyes laser-focused on her rosy lips.
“How do you expect me to command a kitchen if I purred like a kitten?” She fluttered her lashes a few times and then dashed away out of arms’ reach.
Fuck me. Now I could add the image of her purring and stretching her body out in my bed to my list of fantasies. We would be sleeping in the same room tonight? Good luck trying to rest knowing she would be but a few feet away from me.