Chapter 18
Are there drugs in peppermint bark? Because I think there might be drugs in peppermint bark. It’s the only explanation for why I’ve been euphoric for the past week. Have you ever had peppermint bark? Because I’d never tried it before this week, and it is D-I-V-I-N-E.
That decadent dark chocolate base layered with luscious white chocolate blended with crushed peppermints. It’s creamy, and crunchy—sweet, spicy and the perfect amount of bitter.
I never would’ve discovered the super-magic-powers of the peppermint bark, but after delighting over a piece at the ranch, Cecelia taught me how to make it.
I’ve never spent so much time working painstakingly over a double-boiler in my life. My complexion is barely holding on because the sugar is wrecking me, but the constant steam from the double boiler is saving me.
Every time I make a new batch, I intend on gifting it to someone, but one piece for me becomes five pieces for me, and then the container is empty.
The Christmas season is upon us and is by far the most joyous I’ve ever had. Celebrating wasn’t a priority of my parents, but Charlie and I liked it well enough. The cute parties at school, cheerful music, pretty decorations and string lights were always a highlight of the year.
The Christmas before Charlie died was the last happy holiday I had—Carter made sure of that. I couldn’t ever be fully present for Everly, despite desperately wanting to give her good memories.
With endless company Christmas parties, Carter’s expectations of me were on overdrive. The requirement to look a certain way, behave a certain way, and cook, bake, and wrap to his high standards.
Feeling safe with Greyson has allowed me to embrace the holiday season and go all out for Everly and Harper. His daughter may be accustomed to more cheer, but Everly’s never seen such a spectacle.
The evergreen trees around the ranch are decked out in string lights, mystical against the ever-present snow. Main Street is no different, with each storefront decorated for their holidays and beliefs.
The school gave the kids a lovely send-off for winter break; and having everyone home for two weeks is a gift in and of itself.
We’ve become a version of a family. The single father and his daughter, and the separated mother and her daughter. Or perhaps, Greyson just treats his employees like family. Perhaps, I’m just the nanny.
But it doesn’t feel like I’m just the nanny.
If I was merely an employee, electricity wouldn’t zap between us when our eyes meet, or arms brush.
If he was only my boss, I wouldn’t meticulously plan his favorite meals and go out of my way to please him.
I’m here to care for his daughter, not him, after all.
Giggles tinkle from the living room where the girls are watching The Grinch for the umpteenth time as I put the final touches on my hair and makeup for Christmas dinner at Lucky Spurs Ranch.
Now that I’m not expected to dress to Carter’s exacting standards, I’ve come to enjoy dressing for myself. Once I succumbed to the peer pressure, Livy, Izzy, and Delilah made it their mission to dress me like their personal Barbie.
My closet at Greyson’s apartment is jam packed with hand-me-downs, gifted items, and key pieces I’ve splurged on for myself.
Despite their insistence of how gorgeous I look in this makeup or that, I’m happiest with some lengthening mascara and a swipe of tinted lip balm.
For the dinner tonight, I’ve chosen a pair of dark-wash, boot-cut jeans that fit me like a glove, a pair of cowboy boots the girls found that I “just had to have,” and a cloud-like ivory sweater.
I feel beautiful, more so than I ever have.
I’m applying an extra coat of lip balm, because the dry cold here is brutal, when Greyson’s voice raises outside my door.
“How many times do I have to say no? No, Olivia. This isn’t up for discussion. I don’t give a rat’s ass what she thinks. I’m done talking about this. Enjoy your Christmas Eve. We’re staying the night at the ranch if you stop by tomorrow.”
I wait a beat before exiting my room as nonchalantly as I can muster. Greyson’s leaning against the opposite wall, head hung low, phone gripped tightly in his fist.
“I take it you heard that,” he states, not asks.
“Not intentionally.” I fiddle with the ends of my hair. I blew it out for the dinner tonight, so it hangs long over my shoulders. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Greyson isn’t a feelings-sharer, so I’m taken aback when he nods.
“Do you mind lending me your ear while I get ready?” he asks, walking to his bedroom.
I don’t enter his bedroom. Ever. When I was new, I tried washing his laundry and sheets and you’d think I killed his cat. One time I cleaned his bathroom, and a vein nearly popped out of his forehead.
And now he wants me to hang out in his bedroom, while he…changes clothes?
I want to be a shoulder for him to lean on, but more so, I’m jumping at the opportunity to get to know Greyson on any deeper level than the surface he offers the rest of the world.
Lost in thought, I barely register that he’s closed the door behind us.
“Thanks. I don’t want Harper hearing any of this.”
“Of course.” Awkwardly, I look around his bedroom, my mind collecting details like bits of treasure for me to examine, sort, and covet in the quiet hours when I’m alone.
The framed photo of him holding a baby Harper on his night stand. Her drawings haphazardly taped to his closet door. A misshapen, painted ceramic dish filled with his keys, wallet, and loose change, that Harper no-doubt made with her tiny hands.
He’s an excellent father, there’s no question. Carter never paid more than a passing glance to anything Everly made, let alone proudly display it.
Greyson grabs a fresh flannel from the closet, the taped drawings fluttering from the opening and closing of the door. He opens his dresser to grab a white undershirt and goes to change in his bathroom.
He leaves the door ajar so I can hear him. Looking around for somewhere to sit, I find the only option is his bed. I sit on the edge of his mattress and indulgently run my hands along the worn forest green duvet he sleeps beneath each night.
His voice draws my attention to the cracked door, and through the narrow opening, I can see him changing his shirt in the vanity mirror.
I should look away. I should be professional and appropriate and give him the courtesy of looking away. But when he unbuttons his flannel and shrugs it from his shoulders, I can’t peel my eyes away.
“That was Liv on the phone. She’s spending Christmas Eve with her parents, and just like every year, she tries to convince me to come and bring Harper so Meredith can meet her.”
I know from bits and pieces that Meredith is his mother, and their relationship is fraught with tension. I don’t ask for clarification, nor does he provide any.
“If I haven’t let her around my daughter in all nine years of her life, I have no fuckin’ idea why Liv thinks I’d start tonight.”
In the mirror I watch him reach over his head and grip the back of his shirt, taking it off in the sexiest move I’ve ever seen. Thankfully, the bed doesn’t creak when I rock back and forth trying to get a full picture through the cracked door.
Sweet. Baby. Jesus. That peppermint bark must be hitting hard because heat flashes over my body as the glory of his muscular back imprints on my memory.
Carter’s back is fit from swimming, but his muscles are lean.
Greyson’s back is all ridges and valleys where the muscle and sinew weave together to create a hulking masterpiece. What would those muscles feel like beneath my palms if we—
“If a mother could love her own child so conditionally that she stopped raising me when I was eleven fucking years old…there’s no way in hell I’m exposing my daughter to that kind of heartbreak.”
My heart breaks for the grieving little boy Greyson was when his dad died. I can’t blame him for sheltering Harper from Meredith’s damaging behavior.
No! Don’t put the shirt on…darn it. My empathy distracted me from the last seconds of admiring his bare back, now clad in a white T-shirt.
“I know Liv wants us all to be one big happy family for Harper. But Harper’s family is already filled with people who love her and would never even dream of hurting her.”
Are Everly and I a part of that family? I don’t know when it happened, but we’ve become ingrained in the Lucky Spurs Ranch family.
He puts the clean flannel on, a festive red and green, and buttons it, checking himself in the mirror. I quickly stand and shift out of view, so he doesn’t catch me spying. A quick brush of his hair, and he’s ready to go.
I know Greyson doesn’t need or want my opinion, nor has he asked. But the way he’s looking at me, waiting, spurs my bravery.
“For what it’s worth, I think it’s remarkable the lengths you’ve gone to protect Harper. So many children are exposed to toxic relatives because the parents want to keep the peace. You’ve placed her emotional safety and happiness above all else, and no one can fault you for that.”
His brow furrows deeply, and my insides tense. Did I overstep?
“Thank you,” he says, cutting off my impending apology.
“For what?”
“For validating my experience.” Those rich brown eyes flit across my face, searching.
“Should we load up the girls and get going before the snow gets worse?” I ask, leaning toward his closed bedroom door. The air between us is stifling with things unsaid.
Greyson nods and steps to open the door for me.
“The guys were asking if you were planning on bringing your peppermint bark? You’ve really mastered it.”
His compliment makes me all tingly, or maybe it’s the withdrawals from not having any peppermint bark in the last hour. It’s drugs, I swear.
“About that…” I hedge.
Because there isn’t but a crumb left.