Love at Christmas Inn Collection 2

by Tanya Stowe et al

  She snatched her room key, tossed the angels a curt nod, and practically flew through the door, pausing only long enough to engage the latch before heading to the dining room.

  As she descended the stairs, rich aromas filled her senses and caused her mouth to water in unbridled anticipation. Fried sausage, scrambled eggs, coffee laced with a hint of warm cinnamon, sweet cream butter, fresh strawberries and—was that crepes heaped with juicy preserves?

  Hope’s belly roared as she double-timed it to the dining area. The sound of murmuring voices grew to a crescendo as she turned the corner. A flurry of tables covered in crisp, white linens with festive crimson poinsettia centerpieces came into view. Through the windows, she saw a large wooden deck spread from one end of the massive inn to the other. Small wrought iron tables and chairs lined the rails and guests who’d already finished their meal gathered around them, sipping hot steamy drinks. On the grounds below the deck, a herd of plastic prancing reindeer surrounded a white gazebo decked with red ribbons. Back-dropped by a glorious view of the Smoky Mountains through a floor-to-ceiling wall of windows, the scene was almost too pretty to spoil with spills and crumbs. Even so, guests were elbow deep in food and conversation, enjoying each other’s company. The place was filled to capacity—not a seat to be had. Obviously, Chef Forrester’s culinary skills drew a crowd.

  Stuffing aside worries of where to sit, Hope headed to the buffet. Steam billowed up from pristinely polished roll-top chafing dishes, warming her cheeks as she surveyed the abundance of food offerings. No point in wasting time waiting for a seat at one of the tables to be vacated. She’d squeeze in somewhere. After all, she was merely a single now, since her pairs team broke up when Warren was hustled off to rehab.

  Don’t think about that, Hope. Focus on the food. This spread is like Christmas morning…better than a mountain of packages garnished with bows.

  She filled a generously-sized coffee mug and, forgetting her manners for a moment, drew a long sip of the Christmassy brew while still poised right there at the bar. Then, with a satisfied sigh, she snatched a plate and heaped it with a sampling of everything—from a fluffy froth of scrambled eggs laced with fine bits of peppers and mushrooms, straight down to stout sausage links and a plump, sugar-glazed cranberry-nut muffin—until it was piled high as the rolling foothills of the Smoky Mountains.

  Satisfied, she turned back to the crowd of diners. Now, to locate a seat…

  “You can sit here with us,” said a tiny voice to her right. Hope turned to find the cutest little pixie of a girl with sparkling blue eyes and blonde curls dancing about her cherubic face, patting the empty seat beside her at her table. “Mama says it’s always polite to invite others to sit with us, ’specially when they have nowhere else to go.”

  “That’s nice of you. Thank you, sweetie.” Hope started toward her. But then her gaze shifted, and she noticed the man sitting beside the child. She froze mid-stride.

  Beauty and the beast.

  “Hello, Hope,” he said in the honey-smooth voice that was all too familiar. So familiar, she was sure his was the laugh she’d heard pouring from the SUV during the wee hours of last night.

  Hope’s heart sank.

  “It can’t be. It isn’t.” She backtracked as the words erupted like steam from a pressure cooker. “Is this some kind of sick prank…Riley Tate?”

  She said it as if the question might be answered in the negative. Perhaps he had a doppelganger, a very impressive look-alike with the same dark hair and piercing blue eyes set in a face that seemed to hold its summer tan year-round. And that smile...one that said he knew a secret others might only try to guess.

  “If it is, the joke’s on me.”

  “I beg to differ. What are you doing here?”

  “I might ask you the same.”

  “You’re the reporter. I thought you knew everything.”

  “Obviously not.” He tossed her a saucy wink. “But this is sure something, isn’t it…you, me…together again?”

  “Oh, it’s something all right.”

  She couldn’t say exactly what she thought of it. Gran would wash her mouth out with soap should she overhear Hope mutter the oath that came to mind.

  “Who would’ve thought we’d travel all the way from Chicago to the little town of Hope Creek at the same exact time?”

  “Not me. Never in a million years.”

  “Hope Mallory in Hope Creek, during the season of Hope. That would make a great story.”

  “Don’t even think about it.” She shook her head. “Don’t you dare.”

  “Okay, no story.” He held up his hands in surrender. “But you have to admit, it’s fortuitous. You…me…us…here.”

  “Us…hardly.” She’d rather have every nail yanked out by the root than share a meal with him. “It’s the makings of a horror movie.”

  “Good one.” He laughed, long and hard, as if she was joking.

  She wasn’t.

  “You can sit next to me.” The child offered, totally unaware of the animosity playing out before her. “Here, come on. Your plate looks heavy.”

  Heat crept up Hope’s cheeks, because the plate was heavy. In her haste, she’d filled it with more than enough to feed breakfast to a small army. And now everyone seemed to be looking her way, wondering why she was standing there like a bump on a log as the food turned cold. Quickly, she lowered her head and, because there was nowhere else to go, dropped into the empty seat.

  At least she’d settled all the way across the table from Riley, with the sweetheart of a child as a buffer in between.

  “Hello, I’m Julia,” said the dark-haired woman to Riley’s right, opposite the child. “I’m Riley’s sister and this little munchkin’s mother.”

  “I’m not a munchkin, Mama. I’m five now.” The child lifted her hand, fingers splayed, as she turned to Hope. “I’m Cassie but sometimes Uncle Riley calls me Sassy.”

  Hope couldn’t help the smile that twitched on her lips. The kid was cuteness personified.

  “I think he’s the sassy one.” Julia shifted in her seat, also turning to address Hope. “What has my brother done now?”

  A cane was propped against her chair, and Hope wondered briefly about the need for it. She saw no cast, no sign of a sprain or break. She passed over the question, not wanting to spoil their breakfast though it looked as if the trio had nearly finished. Half-empty coffee cups sat before the adults, while Cassie’s plate held little more than crumbs.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Cassie.” Hope recovered her manners. “Good morning, Julia. I’m—”

  “Hope Mallory.” Julia plucked a lone grape from her plate. “The skater. I’ve seen your pictures on the newsstand in the grocery store checkout aisle.”

  “Great.” Hope sighed. “Probably one of those icky, disgusting tabloids.”

  “Give me more credit than that,” Riley chimed in. “I do quality work.”

  “Loose definition. And I’m officially a former skater,” Hope marched right over his words, addressing Julia. “Thanks to your brother.”

  “Oh…huh?” Julia tilted her head. “What did I miss?”

  “Chicago People Today Magazine, pages twenty-seven through thirty, right along the center crease, poised for easy access.” She jabbed a thumb Riley’s way. “His nauseating expose. A crowning achievement to someone who’s a legend in his own mind.”

  “Ouch.” Riley used a cloth napkin to wipe crumbs from his lips, then tossed it carelessly onto the table.

  “Ought to win a Nobel Prize of some sort, but definitely not for peace.” Hope drew a sip of coffee. The sweet vanilla flavor chased the bitterness from her tongue.

  “Oh, I see.” Julia nodded slightly, shifting her gaze to Riley and then back again. “The two of you have obviously met.”

  “You could say that.” Hope grimaced. “A time or two too many.”

  “Double ouch.” Riley pressed a hand to his chest. “You wound me, Hope.”

  “What goes around comes
around.” Hope made a twisting motion with her hand, as if gouging the dagger in deeper. “Well, this has been fun but I see a table just opened up near the door, so I’ll move on now and leave you all to your—”

  “Wait.” Cassie tugged at the hem of her sweater. “Don’t go. We’re gonna take a walk after breakfast. Uncle Riley’s gonna show me the chapel. Miss Ari said it’s all decked out real pretty for Christmas. You wanna come?” She leaned in close and whispered, “Miss Ari said if we listen real hard, we might hear the bells.”

  Intrigued by the little sprite, Hope played along. “The bells?”

  “Yep. The kissing bells. Uncle Riley doesn’t believe in them, but Mama does, ’cause she had true love with Daddy…before he went to heaven.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know.” Hope cast a gaze Julia’s way. Did his death have something to do with the cane perched at Julia’s side? Had there been an accident? “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Julia’s lips puckered as she nodded slightly. “Thank you.”

  “Daddy’s with the angels now. Mama says he’s my special guardian angel.” Cassie tugged at Hope’s sleeve, her eyes bright with excitement. “Do you believe in angels, Miss Hope?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “And the kissing bells? Do you believe in them, too?”

  “I don’t know. I’d have to investi—” She stopped short. She wouldn’t investigate. Investigating turned up things best left alone. It led to heartache.

  “’vestigate…with Uncle Riley?” Cassie giggled. Then she puckered her lips and offered a loud smack. “With kissing?”

  “Hardly.” Heat flooded Hope’s cheeks as she felt Riley’s gaze settle over her like smoke from a fire.

  “But the bells—”

  “They’ll have to toll on their own, honey,” Julia said. “No one can force them to ring. It just…happens when two people fall in love.”

  “Oh, well…” She propped her pudgy little cheeks in her hands. “You’ll come with us anyway, won’t you Miss Hope?”

  Chapter 3

  RILEY WISHED THE GRAND CLOCK in the Christmas Inn lobby had a rewind button. He’d give just about anything to go back to the days surrounding the article he’d published about Hope and her skating partner, and have a do-over. Not that he thought speaking the truth was wrong, and he felt in his heart that the article had brought about much-needed change that had most likely saved Hope from a tragic accident—or worse. But he might have gone about it in a different way—a less intrusive and kinder way. With a little compassion.

  He’d let his hunger for the Big Story take control of him, and by the time he realized he was in too deep it was too late. He’d tried to pull back, change gears, but his editor wouldn’t hear of it. He’d given Riley an ultimatum—either you run the story or I will.

  Regret bubbled up in his gut, souring the hearty breakfast he’d enjoyed. He’d had no idea he’d run into Hope this week, but now that he had, he planned to make the most of their time together—however much she’d allow him. And from the rigid tone of her posture as they’d exited the inn following the breakfast hour, he was going to have to work for every moment.

  He struggled to keep a close watch on Cassie as they meandered over the sprawling grounds of Christmas Inn. It was difficult to focus on anything with Hope at his side.

  Or, sort of at his side. She actually loped ahead with Cassie, pointing out a family of cardinals that chattered high up in a tree and willowy limbs draped in delicate icicles, as if she wasn’t mad as a wet hornet at him. The two had become fast friends, and the thought made him at once both happy and sad. Cassie needed a friend, and Riley imagined that right about now, Hope could use one, as well. He just wished he might fit the bill. No go. It was obvious she enjoyed the child but would rather be anywhere than here, with him.

  He couldn’t blame her. She didn’t understand what had motivated him to go after the article on her skating partner, Warren Reed, and why exposing him for being addicted to opioids was so important. She had no idea Riley wasn’t intent on ending her skating career, but instead on saving her life.

  He knew first-hand the destruction a drug addiction could wreak. He’d lived it through Julia’s eyes…and Cassie’s. He couldn’t bear to see another person he cared about catapulted down a similar path. And, though her adoring public seemed to care only about what sort of jumps, spins, and fancy footwork she might wow them with in her next performance, he saw more...cared about her beyond what she could pack into an explosive and elegant five-minute program.

  No, Hope had no idea his true intention. How could she, when she’d never given him a chance to explain.

  Not that he’d tried overly hard. Had he pursued giving her an explanation as diligently as he’d pursued the career-launching story, they would never be at odds in the first place.

  At least, he didn’t think so.

  He watched her weave her way through the walking trail, a lissome figure of grace and beauty. He knew from their interviews the countless hours she’d put into developing that grace. By her own account she’d been born with two uncoordinated left feet, and it was only by chance she’d fallen in love enough with skating to put in the relentless effort required to develop such polished and seemingly effortless agility and strength.

  He knew so much more about her than she knew about him. It hardly seemed fair, yet that was the way of reporting. Riley held no qualms that being on the firing side of the pen allowed him a sort of hermit-like ability, a way to guard his privacy—and his heart.

  Get them before they get you, had been his driving motto. Until he met Hope. That had changed everything.

  The skating feature he’d penned had gained him the notoriety he’d worked so hard to achieve, and that had been admittedly rewarding. But he soon found the cost to his heart—and his conscience—far outweighed the fame. Not because he felt the end product was wrong, but because of the manner in which he’d gone after it.

  He’d hurt Hope, and for a reason that had come like a knockout punch to his gut upon seeing her again, that also hurt him.

  His feelings for her had rushed over him like the return of high tide. He thought time might dull them, but no. Not one bit.

  “How much farther?” Cassie’s voice drew him from his thoughts. She’d paused long enough to turn back and look at him. Her knit cap sat lopsided on her head, allowing a raucous spill of curls to peek through. Her blue eyes shone with delight, and he wondered that she seemed to feel none of the jet lag from yesterday’s extended travel that plagued him.

  “Not too much,” Riley assured her, stepping up to readjust her cap and make sure her hands were nestled snugly into her mittens. “It’s just past the gazebo and over the North Pole Bridge.”

  “The North Pole Bridge?” Cassie giggled. “Is that where Santa lives?”

  “I’m not sure about him, but maybe one or two of his elves.” Riley winked. “They’re everywhere, you know, watching for all of the good little boys and girls so they can report back to Santa.”

  “Well, I’ve been good. Mama said so.”

  “Yes, you have. Your mom’s right on that point, for sure.”

  “This is fun. I wish Mama could have come.”

  “Me, too, but she’s tuckered out from all the traveling yesterday and our late arrival—”

  “That was you.” Hope turned to him suddenly, a thin gathering of frost crunching beneath her boots. “The laugh that rang out just after midnight in the entrance drive. I knew I’d heard that rowdy chuckle before.”

  “Guilty as charged.” He patted his chest. “Cassie said something funny. It made me guffaw.”

  “But it wasn’t s’posed to be funny, Uncle Riley. It was true.” She sidled up to Hope, beckoning her near with the curling of an index finger. Hope obliged, leaning down and close while Cassie cupped hands around her ear and shared, “The angels whispered to me. They promised I’d hear the bells ring while we’re here.”

  Hope didn’t miss a beat. “Did they
, now?” Her eyes widened, as if she believed every word. “That’s wonderful.”

  “Yep,” Cassie nodded. “’Cause someone will fall in love. Mama said it’s about time for Uncle Riley to find his soul mate, ’cause he’s getting’ old.”

  “I’m barely thirty,” Riley interjected.

  “Mama says you’re practic’ly a dinosaur.”

  “Well, she’s older than I am, so what does that make her?”

  “A really old dinosaur?” Cassie deadpanned.

  He chuckled, and this time Hope joined him. Their laughter made beautiful music.

  “Well,” Riley said when he caught his breath. “Someone else will have to make those finicky bells chime, because I don’t think we’re going to find the L word—”

  “Certainly not!” Hope shivered as if he’d tossed a bucket of ice water on her. “Not me. I’m not looking.”

  “Mama says it’s the not-lookin’ times when love finds you.”

  “That may have worked for your mama, but as for me…” Hope shook her head. “Nope, nope, nope.”

  “Well, since that’s settled…” Riley should be happy to let things go, enjoy whatever friendship Hope might come to offer during the course of the next week, but it wasn’t enough. A sliver of disappointment imbedded in his chest. What might it take to change her mind?

  The question rolled over in his mind as they went into motion again along the walking trail. Soon they crossed the North Pole Bridge and crested a hill, and the tiny chapel nestled into an outcropping of woods came into full view.

  “Oh, oh!” Cassie shouted gleefully, racing ahead. “Look at it, Miss Hope. It’s so pretty!”

  Large Christmas wreaths garnished with cardinal figurines and velvet bows graced the whitewashed double entrance doors, while a canvas of woods capped by the Great Smoky Mountains formed an intriguing backdrop. He knew the chapel doors remained unlocked at all times. Ari Christmas had told him so herself, and her family owned the inn, the chapel, and everything else that sat on these grounds. So she should know for sure. That fact added an element to the reason he’d been sent here to investigate another story.