I just can’t ruin our relationship. Maybe one day I’ll be thankful for not fucking up our perfect friendship or regret not acting on my desires. If only I knew how to have a romantic relationship. I park in front of my shop, taking a deep breath as I bury my emotions deep. I stay in there for a long time, watching locals and tourists alike walk around the town square. The small ice rink that the local merchants set up every year is already crowded, and it’s not even ten in the morning yet.
Cassie’s too old to skate in there. She claims that the place is for babies and that she’s ready for the lake. I never thought I’d miss having a baby or a toddler in the house. It was so much fun to play with her.
I remember the day when she learned to skate. It was on the lake. Lee held her hands while I skated backward telling her how to slide one foot in front of the other.
Damn, the image of Lee is back but this time the baby she holds is ours—a little boy. This is so fucking bad.
I pull myself together and get out of the truck and march toward the garage.
Jared’s Car Repair Shop has belonged to my family for a couple of generations. It was my grandfather, Jared, who established it over sixty years ago. He loved cars and could spend hours tweaking an engine until it worked like new. I inherited his passion for fixing things. When I was young, I’d take apart the kitchen appliances just to see how they worked.
Mom tried her best to break that habit by grounding me and signing me up for every sport imaginable. Skiing, snowboarding, skating, ice hockey, field hockey during the summer, and even soccer. My brother Holden and I never won a medal, but if there had been some contest for who in Kentbury practiced the most competitive sports, we’d have won.
Needless to say, the times when I wasn’t practicing, I was with my uncle at the shop. My parents didn’t like it, but they were too busy with their own lives to stop me from visiting my uncle.
Unlike Grandpa Jared or Uncle Gerry, Dad hates the car shop, the engines, and the grease stains. According to my uncle, he couldn’t wait to get out of town and become something better. Dad, however, never left. He’s worked for the Main Street Bank for as long as I can remember. I, on the other hand, love to get under or on top of a car and spend hours tuning it.
My biggest passion is to take a beat-up old classic and restore it to its former glory.
Dad and I have nothing in common. My parents never understood Holden and me. The only time they were proud of me was when I got the acceptance letter to MIT and a full-ride scholarship.
I have work to do, and without Cassie, I can get more done. My heart stops when I enter the shop and see a message from Lee on my phone.
Lee: Thank you for offering to make me dinner, but I have plans.
Plans? I groan.
Heath: Do you need me to come by later?
Lee: No, I’m busy tonight.
That’s bullshit. She told me she was free tonight, and if I wanted, I could leave Cassie with her. Though, her dad offered to take my kid for the night. They made plans for tomorrow morning. I wish my parents were more like Steve Harris. He’s always treated me like his son and loves Cassie like his granddaughter. Seeing that I was free in the evening, I thought it’d be a good idea to spend it with Lee. We could grab dinner, maybe go to the lake, and a movie by the fire afterward.
But she doesn’t have time anymore. Fuck, I swear under my breath.
That’s not possible, something happened. I rehash the entire morning and our conversation after her dad left with Cassie. My stomach clenches when I figure out the answer—her brothers.
Bishop and Kingston stayed behind to discuss an issue with her. That has to be it. They either pissed her off, or she has to help them with the resort, or the farm. Maybe Chloe is moving out of Bishop’s and Lee has to be around. No, if that’s the case Bishop would be calling me to help out with the move.
I have a niggling feeling that she’s canceling because of them. I swear those two treat her like the oldest of the siblings instead of the baby of the family. They’d be lost without her—just like I would.
Heath: What can I do to help free up your time?
Lee: Nothing.
Nothing?
Is she blowing me off?
If she’s upset with me, she’d tell me. She always does. So then why is she suddenly saying that she’s busy? This is so unlike her. Lee’s a pretty easygoing person. She’s a fighter, one of those people who would make the impossible possible. Even if she had to put out a fire, she’d be free in the evening. She’d call me to help her with it.
Maybe that’s the problem. She’s always taking care of everyone. I try to keep an eye on her. Be the person she needs when she’s falling and there’s no one else around to catch her. With the holidays, there are a ton of emergencies that she has to handle. I try to be there for her and find ways to give her a break. I thought that cooking for her would be nice. She beamed when I offered. There has to be a good reason why she suddenly canceled on me.
Heath: Busy how?
Lee: You wouldn’t understand.
Heath: Why are you canceling on me?
Lee: Like I said, I have things to do. It’s Saturday. I have a life you know.
I stare at the text, analyzing each word. What does having a life have to do with me cooking her dinner?
Did I piss her off?
I work hard to stay away from her bad side. That’s a place where only her brothers belong. Not me. Instead of texting back, I call her, but I get her voicemail—three times.
Looking at the clock, I decide to start working and let her be for now. She is busy and I have a sweet 1963 Corvette waiting to be brought to life. Hopefully, the replacement parts I need will arrive today because there’s a big storm coming next week. The delivery services won’t drive to Kentbury until the roads are clear.
After I put on my work clothes, I try calling Lee one more time with no luck.
“What is happening with you, Knightly Rose Harris,” I say out loud staring at the phone.
I give up and send her one last text.
Heath: I’m sorry if I upset you. Let me make it up to you.
Four
Heath
The Harris Ski Resort’s lobby is like a comfortable, homey living room of a cabin. It has a central gas fireplace ensconced in a tubular glass case, wall dividers made up of iron banisters laid together like earthen wrought iron gates and adorned with iron maple leaves. To the left, there’s a floor-to-ceiling window where we can admire the slopes. It’s fancier than it was a year ago, yet, the architect who renovated the place made sure to keep the quaint, cozy feel of the establishment.
“What’s going on, Miller?” Kingston greets me.
“Where’s Lee?”
“You can’t find her at the B&B, her house, or with Dad?” he asks confused.
“Would you mind tracking down your sister, please?” I show him my phone. “I’ve been trying all day, and she’s been ignoring my messages and sending me to voicemail.”
“Lee?” He furrows his brow.
“If you’re looking for Cassie, she’s already at Dad’s. They left after having an early dinner. André prepared some snacks for them to take home.”
Cassie has André, the lodge’s chef, wrapped around her little finger just like everyone else. We hired him a year ago to make the restaurant one of the best in the area, not to cater to my child.
“No, I’m looking for Lee,” I speak slowly trying to bring back his attention since he’s already staring at the front desk.
“What Lee?” he asks without even looking at me.
Great, I lost the fucker.
“Yes, she’s five foot three, hazelnut color hair, dark eyes and looks somehow like you—but pretty. She goes by the name of Knightly. We call her Lee, and she usually wants to kill you because you upset her.”
He focuses his attention back on me. “Miller, I love my sister, but I don’t keep track of her. Since you’re free, why don’t we go to the restaurant?” He
invites me like he used to do when we were twenty-five. It was back when he was starting to work at the lodge, and I had come back from Boston to take over the shop.
“I saw a group of guests that might do it for tonight.”
“You’re not twenty anymore, King,” I say quietly since there are guests around.
He chuckles. “Should I settle down, Miller?”
“No, but at least don’t be fucking around with your guests. It was fun ten years ago. But you’re thirty-five.”
“Should I start behaving like you?” He stares at my hands. “I don’t see you settling down. If you’re warning me because you think I might knock up a girl, I use condoms.”
“I did too, and fucker, they don’t always work,” I say. “Think about the reputation of the resort. Why would I want to stay at the place where the owner might or might not fuck my wife or girlfriend?”
He takes a step back as if I just punched him in the face. Somewhere along the way, King lost perception of what matters. He lives in his own reality where he keeps the business afloat and tries to make it the best. Sometimes it feels like he lost his humanity.
“I get it, keeping the family business going is important. Finding an outlet helps you balance your life. But be careful with what you’re doing. Did Lee know that you were planning on selling her B&B?”
“That was a couple of years ago, and I didn’t do it,” he growls.
“Because I stopped you,” I remind him. “Until you pay me back, I own half of this place. Do your siblings know that?”
His eyes widen. Of course, they don’t know shit. He likes to know everything that’s happening with the farm and the B&B but never tells them what’s going on with the resort.
“Now, find your sister. She’ll answer your call.”
He huffs but sends a text. We don’t speak as we wait for her response.
Where are you, Knightly Rose?
“She’s at the creamery getting ice cream before heading home.”
“What the fuck?” I glare at him. “She’s doing exactly what I told her we should do earlier today. Why would she cancel on me?”
“Maybe she had things to do, and she finished early. Who cares?”
I do, fucker. I glare at him. We’ve never talked about Lee and I becoming something else, but I guess there’s a mutual understanding that I can’t break the bro-code. What would he do if I did?
“I’m going to the restaurant. I’ll have André make something for her. Maybe ask for some chocolate cake to go with her custard.”
“Why would you do that?”
He might have graduated from fucking Harvard, but his skull is too thick to comprehend human behavior and emotions.
“Because that’s what you do for the people you care about. You do things that will cheer them up,” I respond exasperated.
“You care about Lee?” he asks confused.
I flip him the finger and leave. There’s no use explaining to an emotionally constipated man how relationships work.
Five
Knightly
Today was one of the busiest days of the year. I’m spent, but also satisfied with the results. After the crazy morning with my family, I had plenty of time to make sure that the B&B felt like a home away from home for the guests. I was also able to package the chocolate chip cookies and set them in the gift shop for sale. Booking the weekend for the bridal party was risky, but worth it. Gloria, the bride-to-be loved Kentbury, the B&B, and the resort.
Gloria found a few places where her wedding could be spectacular. Thankfully, Bethany, the event coordinator, convinced her to keep the ceremony and celebration within the resort. We can’t predict the weather, and during the winter it’s always cold. She’d have to wear a coat over her beautiful gown.
She’s booking the B&B for her and her bridesmaids. She’ll then move to the honeymoon suite at the resort for the wedding night, leaving her bridal party at the B&B.
Bethany is a genius. It’s such a shame that my brother can’t understand that we have a diamond in our staff. A diamond who I think has the hots for our chef André. Not that I should be nosing around their business, I’m just envious of them. It’s Saturday, and I don’t have anything nor anyone to do tonight. Unless my vibrators count.
That sounds terrible, but I’d give anything to have sex with a man and not one of my sex toys while I think of Heath Miller and his big, calloused hands making me come.
Resigned to spend my night alone with a pizza and Netflix, I drive home. However, I take a detour toward downtown and park right by the creamery. I might not have a date, but I can have a pity party loaded with carbs. Life is better with vanilla custard mixed with fresh berries, and I have plenty of berries at home. I wish I had thought about this before I left the resort. André’s chocolate fudge cake goes perfectly with it.
Ugh, why didn’t I fall in love with him? I’d be having hot sex tonight, and he’d feed me all my favorite foods.
I take a deep breath and decide to buy a half gallon of custard so I can save some for tomorrow. I’ll have to run an extra mile for the next week or two, but who cares? I’ll feast on chocolate cake and custard tomorrow.
As I’m about to throw my phone inside my purse, I notice a text from Kingston.
King: Where are you?
He’s not one to care about my whereabouts. He only cares when he needs me. I answer and then ask why? While I wait for his response, I stare at the small ice rink in the middle of the town square. My parents and some of the business owners around the area began the tradition. It attracts tourists. This place and the season remind me so much of Cassie when she was just a baby and we brought her to take her first picture with Santa.
The nostalgia is killing me tonight.
When I enter the creamery, the bell above the glass door rings. The place is busy with tourists. I’m glad that I don’t have to deal with people asking me where Cassie or Heath are.
“Where’s Cassie?” Mrs. Bowman, the owner of the creamery, asks.
I swallow the grunt and smile at her.
“I made hot cocoa flavor today,” she says. “I was hoping you’d bring her since it’s Saturday and the ice rink is open.”
“She’s with my dad tonight,” I answer sighing.
“I’m glad. You and Heath need some alone time. Do you want to take a pint home for tomorrow?”
Mute, I stare at Mrs. Bowman. There’re so many things I should tell her. Like Heath and I don’t need time alone. That we don’t share a home. We’re not a couple. I don’t because what if she says, I know, but you’re in love with him.
Does everyone see me as the pathetic loser in love with her best friend?
I don’t say anything. Even though I want to leave, I order a pint of hot chocolate, and a pint of marshmallow rainbow because it’s brand-new and we always try the new flavors together. I get half a gallon of vanilla custard, and because I just can’t help myself, I also order a pint of peppermint ice cream for Heath because I’m a sucker for that man.
God, I need another intervention. A real intervention, not a talk with my brothers while they try to tell me what to do.
“Say hi to Cassie and Heath from me,” Mrs. Bowman says when she hands me over the bag with ice cream.
“Sure, Mrs. Bowman.” I fake a smile realizing that she really thinks I’m an extension of them.
We’re not a happy family.
“Tell Heath that I added the box of chocolate peppermint baskets he ordered. Do you think he’d like to try the marshmallow sprinkles?”
What are marshmallow sprinkles?
She doesn’t wait for my response and leaves me standing in front of the register.
“Here.” She hands me a tub of tiny snowflake shaped marshmallows.
I frown. Where does she get these novelties?
“How much do I owe you?”
She waves her hand and shakes her head. “It’s on the house. Heath never charges me when I need an oil change. He always helps me when my ca
r, the appliances, or my furnace breakdown.”
That’s awfully nice of him. He’s always looking after everyone, and sometimes he doesn’t charge. I wish everyone could be more like him.
“Thank you,” I say because the second option is to pull out my wallet and explain to her that we’re not together.
Mooching off my best friend’s favors isn’t very neighborly of me. I’m usually verbal, but today I’ve been stopping myself from clarifying my relationship with Heath too many times. Earlier while I was talking to Bethany, she asked me if I was going to marry at the farm when Heath and I finally decided to take that step.
We’re not together.
“Drive safe, dear,” she says, waving at me. “The roads are starting to get icy. I’ll call Heath to let him know that you’re on your way home and to look out for you.”
I press my lips and nod. If I get the job in New York, I’m going to make sure that everyone knows that Heath and I aren’t an item. If not, they might start a rumor that I abandoned him and his daughter.
Six
Knightly
It takes twice the time it normally does to get home. There’s black ice on most of the intersections, and some drivers are skidding as they abruptly brake when they come to a stop sign or a red light.
Once I turn onto my street, I relax a little. No more cars driving around me as if they were at the Daytona 500.
This isn’t sunny Florida, it’s freezing Vermont.
I open the garage door, drive the car inside, and I spot him leaning against the doorframe of the entrance. He’s wearing a gray Henley shirt, the sleeves already rolled over his tattooed, corded arms.
“Hi,” I greet him getting out of the car with the bag with the small pizza box and ice cream.
Christmas in Kentbury Page 3
