by Sabrina York
Coop laughed. “Yeah. Not that.”
“Anything you can do to help is appreciated, thank you.” I told him. “Ben? Can you use Cooper and his team on the maintenance checks?”
“That’d be great. Thanks.”
Coop winked at me as he followed the rest of his crew upstairs to drop their gear in their billets after everyone else cleared out. For some reason, for a second there, I was pretty damn happy he was here.
But then, he stopped short, turned slowly, and came back to me. “Oh. I do have a question, Vic.”
“Shoot.”
He looked around the empty room, then leaned in and his lips touched mine. It wasn’t an onslaught. It was, indeed, a question. Sweetly asked with timorous hope.
I didn’t mean to answer that question. I swear to God I didn’t. Something possessed me, took hold. Something made me kiss him back. Maybe it was the allure of his breath; I wanted to drink it all in. Maybe it was just joy that we were together again. Maybe it was just a reawakened primal lust or the fact that I was so damn lonely all the time… Surely it wasn’t the ache of a soul unfulfilled.
I was damn fulfilled. I had a great job, a fabulous apartment, and a hot boyfriend.
What a pity he wasn’t anywhere in my mind when I kissed Coop back. That kiss seared away all thoughts entirely.
It turned into a long, hot, hard kiss, one that woke up parts of my body that had been, apparently, in hibernation for years. In fact, his kiss set me afire.
So much so, that I lurched back and swiped my bangs out of my eyes and said, “There. Does that answer your question?” in a frosty tone that was hardly breathless at all.
I have no idea why he laughed.
“It does indeed, Vic.” And then—to my horror—he turned away and headed back to the stairs.
“And what was that burning question, may I ask?” I called after his retreating form. I just had to.
He looked back and winked. “I wanted to know if it’s still there, Vic. That thing between us.”
Heat rose on my cheeks. “What thing?” I knew damn well. I’d just felt it.
His expression made clear he was wise to me. He came closer again and whispered, “It’s great to see you again, sweetheart.” And then he gathered his gear and headed upstairs.
His dog remained behind, for some season, staring at me with stupid big brown eyes until I hissed, “Go!”
And then he left too.
3
Ye Gods, it was nice when we finished prepping the house early, thanks to Coop and his team. Four extra bodies really does make a difference. Because of them, we all got some sleep, though I spent what was left of the night in my cramped, but private, bedroom, tossing and turning. Thinking of him. Remembering each and every moment with him and eventually dreaming about him. I woke up in a warm embrace and for a second, I thought he’d come to join me in my bed. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or irritated when I realized it was just a pillow hugging my back.
It hardly mattered though, did it? Even if Coop and I had been there, all tangled together in that warm, cozy nest, there wouldn’t have been time to do anything about it. Nothing satisfying anyway. The guests were to arrive at 10 am sharp.
I hadn’t been able to afford a cell phone when I was a kid, but I did have a picture of us in my wallet. For some reason, I pulled it out. Stared at it. Me and Coop, so young and carefree. It was faded and worn, but that girl smiling out at the world was a happy one. Happier than she’d ever been.
Happier than she’d been since.
Never mind all the success, the corporate climbing, the jet-set lifestyle, the Beemer.
Nothing, and no one, made me as happy as he had.
And he looked scrumptious. Hat on backwards, brown, shirtless, and grinning at the camera as he wrapped his arm around that happy girl.
I remembered that moment. It was that ephemeral glimpse of perfection just before everything had gone to shit.
It had been almost the end of the season. We’d been planning to backpack together in Canada for a few weeks before school started again. But then, he’d gotten a call from an ex—someone named Barbie Malone—and he’d answered it.
I’d been young, dumb, insecure, then hurt and furious knowing that he would even talk to an ex-girlfriend. We’d fought and I’d told him to get lost.
And he did.
He just left.
And that had been the end of that.
A couple of years later I heard through mutual friends that he’d done as he’d threatened, and joined the Navy so he could be a SEAL. No word if he’d married Barbie. No word at all.
Funny how some people just disappear, isn’t it? They aren’t even on the internet, damn it all anyway.
Ah, but now, he was here. In the flesh.
This Coop was a lot different than a faded, ten-year-old, two-dimensional photo of the man.
And a lot scarier.
Maybe not even the guy I remembered so fondly…you know, from before he shattered my dreams.
I wasn’t ready for this.
Not even.
So when I caught him alone in the kitchen that morning—who am I kidding? I was listening for him—I knew it was time for us to have a chat.
“Ah. There you are, Cooper,” I said crisply, ignoring the Rottweiler who trotted up to sniff my crotch.
“Cooper?” He wrinkled up his face. “You used to call me Rocky.”
“Yeah,” I said on a snort. “I used to be eighteen.”
He tipped his head and his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Has it really been that long?
My immediate, gut, visceral response was, I’m not old.
I knew he wasn’t saying that. He was not implying that I was absolutely out of time like a dried up avocado, but that’s where I went. I pulled back a little. Cleared my throat. “It was a long time ago. I’ve grown up.”
I didn’t like the way he eyed me. The way his appreciation burned. “In all the best ways, I see.”
I whirled away from his attention, but I could still feel it searing my back. “What is that supposed to mean?”
His chuckle surrounded me like a hug; he felt close, though he hadn’t moved. “You’re prettier now.”
“Oh!” I whipped back around, arms crossed over my chest. A mistake, as it happened, because his licking gaze went right there. The tip of his tongue dabbed out. My breath locked and it took me a sec to remember what, exactly, I was infuriated about. Surely there was something? “Oh, yes,” I began again, with ample vigor. “So I was ugly then?”
“What? With those cute little freckles over your nose?” His finger snaked a trail, connecting the dots. It was annoying, so I shook him away. I wasn’t a youngling any more. I wasn’t a tasty little virgin caught in the net of an older, more experienced, sexy sexy sexy man. A man who could seduce a nun.
Barbie Malone had been a nun. Or had planned to be one, before she met Coop.
Even back then, he’d been a hottie.
But now?
Mother Mary, help me.
I looked away. Scrambled for something. Anything. “Besides, Rocky is a stupid name.”
“Stupid?” There was a thread of affront in his voice. “You used to like it.”
“I never liked it. I laughed at it.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes. I did. I laughed my ass off. Remember?”
He thought for a bit, then grunted. “Okay then. Well, what are you going to call me? Cameron?”
“As if.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll call you Cooper.”
“Okay.”
“And you call me Ms. Walker.”
“Ms.— What? Why do I have to call you that?”
“Because, technically, I’m your boss.”
He reared back. “You are not my boss.”
“I’m the Visit Manager here because an employee flaked. I’m really the VP of Hospitality. Ta da!” I flourished my arms like a magician who’d just done a trick. “I’m here incognito.”
/> “Incognito? Really?”
I hadn’t intended it that way, but now that I was here, it kind of made sense to see how well boots on the ground embody the company élan. “Substitute. Whatever. Point is, I am your boss. And—and this is a very important point—we will work together on a highly professional, completely platonic level. As the two highest ranking members of the ship, so to speak, the staff will look to us for leadership.”
“So you’re sayin’ we should work together, or sumpin’ like that?” He used his hillbilly voice, so I smacked him on the shoulder.
“Quit. This is important.”
He grinned and leaned against the counter. “Okay. I’ll play your game, boss lady—”
“This is not a game, Cam! This is serious.”
“Is it?” I stood my ground as he came toward me. He got close enough that I could smell his minty breath as he breathed. In and out. And then, he came closer still, until his body and mine almost touched, but didn’t. It was then, with his cheek so warm, a finger’s breadth from mine, that he whispered, “I thought you were going to call me Cooper.”
I blinked. “I was. I am. What?”
The smirk on his face was beyond irritating. “You just called me Cam.” He said it like it was a victory of some sort. How ridiculous.
“I called you Cam because you annoyed me.”
“Still counts.”
I frowned. “No. It doesn’t.”
“Does.”
“Doesn’t.”
“Does…times infinity.” This, he crowed in a triumphant tone.
“Ghaaa! You are so aggravating.”
He made a jaunty-bow, like an old-timey-knight you want to slap in the face, and pronounced, with the flourish of an imaginary hat, “Anything for you, my love. I do try.”
And yeah. It took me over, the hilarity of all this. The goofiness I’d forgotten I loved. Oh, remember when we laughed? Just laughed and laughed, together in our safe womb of love?
I wanted to feel that way again. And I wanted it with him.
I wanted it so badly, it hurt.
My expression must have changed because his did. A sadness touched his eyes. His smile faded. He stepped toward me.
This time, he didn’t touch me. He just looked at me for a long while and said, “I’ve missed us, Vic.” His voice was a little ragged, but it was clear he was trying not to let it show.
“Us?” I said, my hand hovering just over his lapel. I could feel his heat from there.
“Yeah. Us. We were a good thing, I think. Maybe we were too young to know how good it was.”
My gaze flicked to his lips, then back.
He frowned at me.
“What?”
His frown deepened. “You’re supposed to agree.”
“Agree to what?” How was I supposed to pay attention to the conversation with him being there, so close? Smelling like that?
He grinned. That lethal grin. “Agree that maybe we had a good thing.”
And then, he kissed me. Nothing but a peck. Nothing but a whisper.
Still, it rang through me like a Christmas bell, damn him.
It took everything in me to pull back and blurt, “Please don’t flirt with me.” Out with it! No point beating around the bush.
“What?” He seemed truly stunned, which made me feel a little guilty, but not enough to stop. I’d decided, during those long sleepless hours, that I was not going to fall back into that same old tired trap. I was a different person now, and the fact that he made my head spin was dangerous. The fact that he made me forget about my job, was horrifying. I couldn’t think when he was near. I certainly couldn’t do my best work. And this was an important Visit for Eden...
“Look, Coop…”
He threw up his hands. “Oh great. I always love it when sentences start with look, Coop.”
“I’m sorry. But I just can’t deal with this right now.”
“This? This, this? Between us?” He waggled his finger between us. “Is that what you’re acknowledging?”
“Doesn’t matter.” I showed him the hand. “Am I attracted to you, still, after all these years? Yes. Do I have time to indulge in you? No. Not this week, Coop. Not now.”
“Next week then?” His grin was alluring.
“Will you stop? Can we just be friends and co-workers and get through this week? Please? That’s all I ask. All I want for Christmas. Okay?”
He stood there, hands on hips, staring at me silently, but then he nodded. “Sure, Vic. Let’s get through this week. Let’s do it together.” He hugged me then, but I noticed that it was a hollow hug, which made me wonder if I’d just done something very stupid.
But was it? Was it stupid? I was in such a frazzle with this cluster%ű&k of a Visit—and the guests hadn’t even arrived. My concierge skills were dull, the staff needed micromanaging and I, as a human being, simply did not have the capacity to handle all that and a red-hot love affair doomed to burn itself into a tiny fluttering wisp of a crisp.
But still, on some level, I kind of wish I did.
I really did.
4
After Coop left the staff house, I woke up my minions and herded them through a rushed breakfast, handed out last-minute assignments, and sent Jed back for his shoes before heading to the main house. I didn’t see Cooper or his team, but I did see Mason. Sprawled on the ratty staff sofa in our ratty living room. On his back. Feet in the air. Tongue lolling out. Snoring.
What part of contained did Coop not understand? Mason could loll just as comfortably upstairs, in his bunk, rather than all over our itty-bitty living space. Farting.
But I did not have time for this. I had way too much to do.
First on the list was a check of each room in the guest house. Ken was waiting for me when I stepped into the lodge foyer, which opened to the great room. My breath caught. It was gorgeous! Beyond gorgeous. Oh, the Mistletoe Lodge was magnificent anyway, with its soaring beamed ceilings and the stately river rock fireplace, which ran all the way up to the roof. But now, decorated in white Christmas lights and boughs as it was…it was perfect.
Instrumental carols swirled in a subtle symphony. The scent of pine—which covered for the artificial tree—floated in the air. There may also have been some baking cookies in that air freshener too. It smelled so much like Christmas, I got excited for a second there. Christmas hadn’t excited me for a while. On account of the fact that I never got to celebrate it.
Ken had outdone himself. Lights twined around the bannisters all the way up the stairs. The tree was the pièce de résistance—twelve feet tall and dressed in white bows and dove ornaments. It was a little bougie for me—I preferred my Charlie Brown Christmas trees—but it was perfect for here. Noble, haughty, and cold.
“Ken, it’s perfect,” I said. And he beamed.
I was just making my last pass through the house at 9:45, when a huge yelp and a great gushing sound welled from inside the powder room, just off the foyer. To their credit, my team converged on that vicinity in no time. I whipped open the door. And stared. At Jed, sopping wet, under the arching, and relentless spray of the bidet.
“Man,” he said, holding his jeans closed with one hand. “There’s something really wrong with this toilet!”
“Oh dear,” I said. As one would. On the one hand, this was hysterical. Really it was. Jed was skinny to begin with, but soaking wet? And with a death grip on his pants? And that stunned surprise lighting his eyes? I can just imagine why he freaked. A sudden shot of cold water in certain places would be alarming.
But on the other hand, the guests could pull up any minute, and now the marble foyer was an ice skating rink. “Can we get this cleaned up, please?” This, to anyone. No one moved. All right, fine. “Olivia and Wren? Please. And be sure to disinfect. As for you, Jed, what were you doing in there?”
He shrugged. “I had to take a dump.”
I sighed. “We use the facilities in the staff quarters, remember?” It was a good rule, because have yo
u ever had to fold that origami shit on the end of a sheet of toilet paper? Ain’t nobody got time to go around this big old house, checking to see if you fucked up my toilet paper origami, bitches.
“Yeah.” He tipped his chin and looked up at me. “I really had to go.”
“All right then. Do see a doctor about that. But for now, please drip as little as possible as you leave this house. Not,” I called as he headed for the back door—the long way through the house—“that way.” I waved toward the front door, a few feet away. “Go dry off and change into your formal wear. The rest of you, please change when you finish.” I poked my head in and gave the powder room a sniff. “And maybe some potpourri in here?”
What on earth had Jed been eating?
I went on, working through my final checklist. It wasn’t until I finished, and checked my phone that I realized it was 9:55. My heart thudded. So late? I still had to change too. If I hurried, I could do it.
I don’t think I ever moved so fast. I even carried my heels as I ran barefoot through the snow-sprinkled path from one house to the other to make it back in time. Gasping, I took my place in line, quickly adjusting the fit of my jacket and a wayward fluff of hair. I checked my phone.
10:00. Perfect.
I watched it change to 10:01 with a snap.
I sucked in a breath and muttered through my gritted teeth, “Smile, everyone.”
“Smiling,” Coop said from the far end of the line. Too far for me to sear him with a glare without hitting anyone else. And the guests would be here any second. So I had to keep that searing glare to myself, which, as we all know, causes constipation.
By 10:05, I knew they’d been delayed. By 10:15 I’d reached Miranda Givens, Executive Secretary to Tommy Astro, who was Farley Weaver’s manager. According to Miranda, the party had been delayed and, oh dear, had no one called?
They would, apparently, be arriving at noon instead, and expected a full lunch to be prepared upon arrival. Everything else was on schedule, including the massages at 3:00 pm.
All right. Fine. I released the staff back to their duties—and in Coop’s case, back to hanging around and getting in the way. Noel was not happy about the change in the meal schedule and spoke about it rather vociferously. In French. I figured, as long as he was speaking French, it wasn’t something I needed to worry about, so I walked away.
