Chapter Seventeen
“Oh my gosh,” Amy said. “That’s why I went out on the porch this morning. To fetch the newspaper. In all the subsequent drama, I totally forgot about your article. The paper’s probably still out in the snow where I dropped it.”
“I rescued it,” Carson said. “Hang on, I’ll go get it.” Before leaving the room, he glanced at Larkin. She’d been the morning hero—figuring out the culprit who’d been behind all the bad stuff at Bramble House. And he’d been so damn impressed by her.
But how was everyone going to feel after reading her article? How would he feel?
He fished the rolled-up newspaper out of the slipper basket and pulled off the elastic. Larkin’s story hadn’t made the front page. He wasn’t sure if that would turn out to be a bad thing or a good thing.
“Here you go.” He passed the paper to Chet, who spread it open on the table in front of Amy and turned to the third page.
“Bramble House B & B: A Marietta Christmas Tradition. That’s the headline,” Amy explained, before bending over the paper again. “From the moment you step into the walnut-paneled foyer, Bramble House envelops you like a warm hug from your grandmother—oh, I love that, Larkin.”
Carson glanced at Larkin, looking for a hint as to what was to come, but her expression was impassive.
Amy continued to read. There were passages explaining about the four unique Christmas trees, the delicious gourmet breakfasts, the comfortable rooms, all with uniquely Montana and Bramble family names.
“Going up the three-story staircase is like traveling through history. Framed photographs chronicle the lives of all the Brambles, beginning with Henry and May Bell, who moved from Boston to Marietta in 1870. They built Bramble House after earning a quick fortune in the copper mines. A long-standing rumor has it they also discovered a vein of rare Montana sapphires from which several pieces of family jewelry were fashioned.”
Amy stopped reading and looked at Chet. “My bracelet. What happened to it after the nurse insisted on removing it?”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve got it.” Chet pulled the silver bracelet from his shirt pocket.
“This bracelet is reputed to contain some of the Brambles’ Montana sapphires,” Amy explained.
“Oh really?” Marjorie asked. “May I see it?”
Amy allowed the bracelet to be passed along, but waited until it was back on her wrist, the right one this time, before finishing the article.
“A lot could have gone wrong when Bramble House was sold after Mable Bramble’s death to a young former investment banker from Wall Street.
Instead, in Amy Hardwick and her husband, Chet, the Brambles have found a loving custodian who preserves the entwined history of the town and the Brambles, while offering their guests the utmost in comfort and pampering. ”
Amy set down the paper. Her eyes filmed over with moisture as she smiled at Larkin. “This is beautiful. Just beautiful. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I reported the truth, as I always do,” Larkin insisted. “Albeit with a bit of a Christmas filter. But that had been what Marly was looking for in her Christmas Eve edition. And I delivered.”
“You sure did,” Amy agreed. “I’m going to have your article framed and hung in a place of honor. But right now—” she cupped her hand to her forehead “—I really need a nap.”
“You sure do.” Chet helped his wife to her feet, then retrieved Robin from Carson’s shoulders, which had begun to ache to be honest. “We’re going upstairs for some family time. Jo, are you okay down here?”
“I’ll help with the cleanup,” Carson said.
“No you won’t,” Jo insisted. “You and Larkin were a great help this morning, but I’ve got this.”
“I can help,” Marjorie offered. “In fact I was going to ask if I could prepare Christmas breakfast for everyone.”
Amy paused at the doorway. “Jo doesn’t work on Christmas, so we traditionally have a self-serve breakfast on the twenty-fifth.”
“I know, that was explained when we booked our stay. But I love cooking and baking at Christmastime, and I haven’t been able to do much of it this year.”
Amy thought of the many offers of help the older woman had made over the past week. Maybe she should have accepted some of them.
“I thought you’d enjoy a break from all that work,” Peter said. “That’s why I booked this holiday.”
Marjorie put her hand over Peter’s. “I’ve loved our time here. But it just doesn’t feel like Christmas if I’m not part of the action.”
“What do you think, Jo?” Amy asked.
Jo shrugged. “If Marjorie wants to cook, that’s fine with me. Come on in and I’ll show you around the kitchen.”
*
Carson had been hoping for some time alone with Larkin, so when she offered to help him apply grout sealer at her grandmother’s house—totally a one-man job—he accepted.
He was pleased with how the bathroom had turned out, and it was gratifying to see Larkin’s expression as she surveyed the final result. She tested the new support bars.
“Solid as a rock,” he assured her.
“You’ve done a fabulous job. Gran is going to be so happy.”
“Hopefully she feels safe and finds it easy to use.”
“I’m sure she will. Want some coffee?”
“Sure.” He followed her to the kitchen, admiring her curvy figure as she moved around the familiar room.
He wasn’t a sentimental guy. He didn’t watch Hallmark movies like his parents or tear up at country songs about old trucks and loyal dogs like his brother Luke.
But Larkin’s article had made his heart ache a little.
It had made him proud of his sister and what she’d achieved at Bramble House.
And it had made him love Larkin all the more for how she obviously understood and appreciated what the house and business represented.
“You did an amazing job too,” he told her, wishing he was able to better express what her words had done to him.
“Thank you,” she said, in a tone so cool that Carson realized she had definitely not forgiven him after yesterday’s argument. And now, with hindsight, he could see how his attempt to protect his sister could have been interpreted as an insult to Larkin.
“I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. I should have trusted you to write a great article.”
“What I wrote was fair and true. Why did you assume I’d write something negative?”
“I didn’t assume that. I was just worried. A lot of weird things had been going on, as you well know.”
“Anyone could tell that the things that have gone wrong this week are atypical. Frankly I knew as soon as Gibson found that dead mouse that Amy and Chet were being sabotaged.”
“I wish you’d told me.”
“I believe I tried to. But I had no proof. Anyway, it shouldn’t have mattered. If you had respected me as an intelligent journalist, and a somewhat decent human being, you wouldn’t have thought for an instant that I would write a hit piece on Bramble House.”
“That’s an exaggeration. I didn’t accuse you of writing a hit piece. I just asked if I could read the article.”
“How would you feel if I asked to see if you’d branded your cattle properly? Or questioned the price you sold your yearlings at?”
“Not quite the same thing, but I take your point.” He went to where she was standing, by the coffeepot, and took her hand.
Just touching her skin did crazy things to him.
“You’re pretty damn amazing. You figured out what Shelley was up to before anyone else.
You wrote a beautiful, moving article about Bramble House.
And you’ve been here for your grandmother when she needed you. ”
“I’m a journalist. We’re trained to be observant. As for Gran, I’m loving every moment I get to spend with her.”
He got that. “She’s a gem, your grandma. I see a lot of her in you. She’s got spunk.”
“That she does, which is why I’m so grateful you fixed her house so she can live independently again. It’ll mean so much to her.”
“I was happy to do it. Plus the job came with perks.”
“Such as?”
“Getting to spend time with you.” He reached for her other hand, pulling gently until she looked up and met his gaze directly. “This past week hasn’t always been easy. But it’s made me realize something important.”
She waited, her gaze unblinking.
“Deny it all you want, but you are amazing. I loved you when we were eighteen. Can you blame me for falling in love with you all over again?”
*
“Love?” It was a good thing Carson was holding her hands, because Larkin suddenly felt off-balance. Carson had talked about having feelings for her. Feelings. It seemed to her that “love” was a big leap forward from “feelings.”
And yet, was there a better word to describe what she felt for him? He might drive her crazy but there had never been a man who came close to him. That’s why it had hurt so much that he didn’t trust her to write that article about Bramble House. He should have known she would never hurt his sister.
“Hell yeah, love. Do you think I would have kissed you if I felt anything less?”
Her gaze dropped from the deep blue of his eyes, to the long curve of his lips.
He was smiling. He’d always had such a sexy grin.
She could feel her heart thrumming away in her chest, like a bike coasting down a hill, running faster and faster.
The way she and Carson had once done, in those golden summers of youth.
“But have you thought this through?” She cursed her practical nature, but it could not be denied. For years she’d guarded her heart and her feelings, the legacy of that awful night with Andrew. She needed to be sure before she risked another catastrophic hurt.
“Not beyond tomorrow, and my desperate need to keep you in my life.”
“But how will that happen? Specifically? Your life is on Whispering Pines and mine is in Denver.” She didn’t mention Marly’s job offer.
It would be crazy for her to leave a job like hers, with growth prospects, to work at a sleepy, weekly small-town paper.
Never mind that she was sure she’d enjoy the work and find it fulfilling.
She didn’t want to be with a man who would expect her to sacrifice her career goals for his.
“Oh, babe.”
He brushed his hand down the side of her face, and she marveled that a man with such work-roughened hands could be so gentle.
“I’ve been the foreman on Whispering Pines for the past nine years. I love that ranch, but it isn’t enough. Not without you.”
“Are you saying you’d leave it?”
“For you? Yes.”
“But what about your family? Wouldn’t you be letting them down?”
“Hell no. My younger brothers will be glad to get rid of me.”
That could not be true. But she loved him for saying it. Love. There was that word again. “So what are you saying? That you’d move to Denver?”
“Can we settle on an acreage outside of the city? I’ve got a degree and a lot of work experience with cattle. I’d need to get a job on a ranch. I hear there are plenty of them in Colorado.”
He meant what he was saying, Larkin realized as she studied the depths of his eyes. He really was willing to leave his family. Whispering Pines. Her gaze shifted to his mouth again. He’d said he wouldn’t have kissed her if he didn’t love her.
And she had no reason to doubt him.
Just as she had no reason to hold back any longer. Standing on her toes, she reached her mouth up to his. Their first kiss was tentative. Then deeper. And wilder. Carson’s mouth trailed down her neck to that soft part where it met her shoulder.
He’d always known what she liked best.
“Remember that time we made out in your grandmother’s spare bedroom?” he whispered into her ear.
“I sure do.”
“I think we should return to the scene of the crime.”
She took his hand. “I think you’re right.”
The pot of coffee gave a small burbling sound. It was ready. But no one would drink a single cup.