by Melissa Tagg
And somewhere in that organized mess of people, Autumn directed it all.
She’s doing it for you.
The whisper glided in from who knew where, sending shoots of warmth from his core to his fingertips, despite the brimming argument that no, she was doing it for the town. To fulfill her responsibility as the co-coordinator.
She’s doing it for you.
And here he was, giving a tour to the only man she was convinced could save her business.
“You should see her telling everyone what to do.” Kip was still talking, hands swinging as accents to his words. “Hilarious. And then, of course, soon as we found out the electrical circuits couldn’t handle any more, she got this idea for fire barrels.”
Blake glanced over. “Fire barrels? In the middle of the park?”
Kip held up his palm. “Don’t worry, she checked on ordinances, fire code, all that. Long as the barrels are grated at the top, we’re okay.”
But all that grass, the trees, wooden booths, the gazebo . . .
He shook the silly concern away. This was Autumn they were talking about. Smokey the Bear had nothing on her safety-wise. While he covered for his dad, she covered for him. And gratitude didn’t begin to cover the range of emotions swelling in him.
Dominic returned then and Kip waved a good-bye.
“Thank you again for everything, Blake.” Dom held out his hand and Blake accepted the shake. “I will look through these papers, but I’m confident your father will be pleased at the offer LLI is prepared to make. Please let him know he can expect to hear from me with a final proposal by Christmas Eve.”
Blake’s hand fell to his side. “Really. Christmas Eve.” His words came out flat, more statement than question.
“No rest for the wicked, isn’t that how the saying goes? Anyhow, we’ll be in touch.”
The man was halfway across the lobby before Blake blinked. “Wait, Mr. Laurent . . . Dom.” He skirted around a startled guest, offering a quick apology as he lunged past.
Dominic turned, revolving door humming behind him, along with the clamor of wheeled suitcases rolling over the metal divider between door and floor.
Blake halted in front of the man, breath tight with hurry and doubt. Dad wouldn’t like this. No, he’d hate it.
But the impulse was too strong to ignore—anchored in emotion and the scene outside the lobby window and the realization that Autumn had become as important to him as family. Uncanny, yes, but undeniable.
The woman who opened her home to a friend in need, who couldn’t bring herself to follow her own dreams until everyone around her was secure, who spent her free time volunteering and talked about traveling with the wistfulness of a little kid standing outside a locked amusement park . . . She’d seen him. All of him—not just the Blake who’d early on earned a rep as the wild one, who globe-trotted and graced tabloid covers and flew the plane his brother had jumped from.
She’d crept past the barriers in his heart and taken up residence.
It couldn’t be permanent residence. He’d have to let her go. He knew that. But right now, he couldn’t detach himself from the idea that he owed her this. She’d offered him friendship. She’d given him a peek into her heart. She’d kissed him last night when he’d fallen apart in her kitchen.
He couldn’t just sit by while her hopes dissolved.
“Yes, Mr. Hunziker?” Dominic’s folded arms hinted at slight impatience.
“I wondered if you’ve given any thought to investing in the Kingsley Inn. You are staying there, after all, and . . .” He should’ve thought this through before blurting it out. But he couldn’t let the man walk away without at least asking.
“You too?” Dominic’s impatience slid into surprise.
“Me too?”
“The inn staff fairly ambushed me this morning. Pulled me into a meeting in a space they consider a conference room.”
So Autumn had finally gotten to him. Was that pride pooling through him? “It’s a great little place, don’t you think?” Still needed some repairs, sure, but nothing a few more weeks and a good investment couldn’t solve. In fact, he could list off exactly where he’d start with the larger of repairs right on down to the details.
Dom unfolded his arms. “Tell me something. Why ask me this? You are rival businesses, no?”
“Historically, yes. But a town like Whisper Shore can easily accommodate two upper-end lodgings. And Autumn is . . .” Adorable. Stubborn. Perfect. “A friend.”
“I find business peers do not often make good friends.”
“I find good friends more important than business.”
“I see.”
Blake doubted it, if the man’s expression was any indication. Still. He hadn’t turned to leave yet. Consideration—or maybe simply curiosity—held him in place.
“Look, I wouldn’t ask this, except that I know how hopeful Autumn is to settle the inn’s affairs before leaving. She wants to insure the Kingsley Inn stays open and is prosperous in her absence.”
Dom’s eyes rounded. “She’s leaving?”
“She didn’t mention that?”
“So she’s looking for a financial investment to secure her own departure.”
“What, no, that’s not . . . She’s had a great opportunity land at her feet.” He could admit it, even if it bothered him.
“Owning a business is a great opportunity. Choosing to leave it behind is telling.” Dominic’s stance firmed. “Besides, I’ve seen the numbers. If I wasn’t certain before, I am now. It would be a horrible investment.”
Shock charged its way through Blake. He hadn’t expected such outright refusal from the man, nor the lackadaisical disdain written in his features.
“And if you ask me, you’d be better off looking out for your own interests and that of your family’s business rather than wasting it on an inn that will close by the end of next year’s first quarter.”
Blake felt the tick in his jaw intensify. He pushed out his question, voice raspy. “Did you . . . tell that to Autumn?”
Dom’s stance loosened and he waved one hand. “Of course not. She will receive a polite letter of decline after I check out.”
“Coward.”
Slick with frustration, the word escaped before Blake could stop it. Heat coursed through him, and if he wasn’t working so hard to keep his hands at his side, he’d be yanking loose the ridiculous tie around his neck.
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” The calm in Dominic Laurent’s voice was unnerving. Cold. His eyes narrowed. “I’m sure your father will be sorry as well.”
The slap of the man’s shoes sounded as he made his retreat.
Would it jinx things to call tonight perfect?
Autumn’s gaze traveled across the town square. Christmas classics played over the speakers, and strings of lights hung around the gazebo and from every lamppost standing guard around the square. The rainbow lights ribboning the massive evergreen, though, wouldn’t be lit until the tree-lighting ceremony later in the evening, when darkness veiled the park.
Fire barrels dotted the square and served as gathering spots where townspeople warmed their hands. The streetlights, too, glowed against the almost-dark sky.
And so many people. Families, groups of teens and adults, kids threading through the park. It was . . . perfect.
“Gotta love a town where we mix fire barrels and pine trees in the same event.” Ava linked her arm through Autumn’s. Lucy walked on the other side.
“People are having a good time, aren’t they?”
“I’d say so. What’d you do? Spike the apple cider?” At Autumn’s gasp, Ava giggled. “Just kidding. They’re having a good time because this is an awesome festival. You did you a good job, you and . . .” She hesitated. “Blake.”
Autumn dropped Ava’s arm and turned to face her. “Oh my goodness. Did you just say something halfway nice about Blake Hunziker?”
Ava cocked her head. “Halfway? I was downright complimentary. Which is how I k
now you spiked the cider.”
“I just wish Blake could be here to see all this.”
Lucy jumped in. “He is here. With his dog.”
“I didn’t realize. . . .” Autumn’s fingers went to her hair, nonchalantly threading out wind-mussed tangles.
Ava cast her a wry grin. “I’d say something snarky, but you’d only deny it, so . . . never mind.”
Fun seeing Ava so carefree. The shift felt seismic. “Ave, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were enjoying yourself here at home. Ever thinking about moving back?”
“You kidding? Coach Mac—he’s the head football coach at the college—let me stand on the sidelines for every game this fall. I’m practically an unofficial member of the coaching staff. Got a good thing going there.”
Autumn laughed at that. “I had no idea your football obsession would eventually turn into a dream job.”
“Some people have dreams their whole lives. Others discover their dreams along the way.” Ava shrugged. “C’mon, Lucy, let’s go get some more of that cider.”
Ava retreated with Lucy in tow. But before following, Autumn turned a full circle, gulping in the sight of Whisper Shore in celebration and Ava’s words still knocking around in her mind.
“Some people have dreams their whole lives. Others discover their dreams along the way.”
So what happened when lifelong dreams collided with—her gaze landed on Blake over by Petey’s booth—new ones? She hugged her arms to herself and swallowed, suddenly tasting cold loneliness instead of her exhilaration from just seconds earlier.
Blake reached across the table and accepted a Styrofoam cup from Petey. Kevin stood obediently at his side, looking less a stray these days and more as if he’d belonged all along. Maybe a little like the man himself?
“He turned out mighty handsome, didn’t he?”
Autumn dipped her gaze. Mrs. Satterly looked up at her from where she leaned on a cane. “Oh, Mrs. Satterly—”
“Don’t even try to deny it, young lady. Eyesight’s as good as ever since my optometrist upped my prescription. That boy could pose on the cover of a magazine.”
He has. “Or star in a production of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.” The bottom of his plaid flannel shirt peeked out from underneath his coat, and he wore boots with his jeans. He obviously hadn’t shaved since his night spent at his dad’s bedside. Only needed a fur hat to complete the handsome lumberjack look.
She watched as Blake accepted a handful of marshmallows from Petey, then leaned down to let Kevin eat them out of his hand.
“Sweet of him bringing back all those photos of the farm.” Mrs. Satterly nodded, then turned back to Autumn. “Even blew one up and framed it.”
Autumn could believe it. That was exactly the sort of man Blake was—conscientious, caring, always going the cliché extra mile in a completely non-cliché way.
“Can I get you some hot chocolate, Mrs. Satterly?”
“I’ve already had three cups, my girl. No, you go talk to your man.”
“He’s not my . . . ” Oh, never mind. First Ava, then Mrs. Satterly. She might as well go talk to Blake. If she didn’t, surely someone else would come along to prod her into it. Besides . . . she wanted to.
Just to see how his dad’s doing. That’s all.
Right. She couldn’t even talk herself into believing her own lie.
With a steadying inhale, she moved forward until she’d reached him. She leaned over to pet Kevin first. Then, “Hey, Blake.” She straightened, waiting for him to turn.
As he did, there was no missing the spark of pleasure flickering in his eyes. “Hey, Red.” His gaze swept from her face down to her boot-covered feet and back up.
Kevin poked her leg with his nose, apparently hungry for more attention. She knelt and let him lick her cheek. “I didn’t think you would be able to make it.”
“Miss this? Dad’s doing fine. And I couldn’t have stayed away if I wanted to.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate. “And I didn’t, in case you’re wondering. Want to stay away, I mean.”
He’d slipped into rambling, and she had to work to hold back her own nervous giggle. Don’t be ridiculous. This is Blake. You’ve worked side by side with the man for almost a month now.
But things were different under the moonlight. And a kiss they hadn’t talked about—but which had lingered in the back of her mind all day. When Kevin backed away and she rose, she caught a whiff of Blake’s subtle cologne floating on the breeze. “So what’s up with your dad?”
“Came home this afternoon. He’s worn down, but Mom will make sure he rests. Probably force-feeding him fish right about now.”
Autumn wrinkled her nose. “Poor man.”
“Poor Mom. I have a feeling she’s in for a battle.” He took another drink of the cocoa, then set the cup down. “Dance with me?” He nodded to the wooden dance floor set up in the corner opposite the grand tree.
“But the program’s going to start soon. I should find—”
“Doesn’t start for more than an hour. There’s time.” Blake reached for her gloved hand. “Petey, can I leave Kev with you for a sec?”
At Petey’s nod, Blake tugged Autumn forward.
Over the speakers, Bing Crosby crooned “White Christmas” while couples moved in slow turns on the dance floor. Snowy boots shuffled and winter coats swished. Not exactly ballroom elegance, but the charming atmosphere mixed with the anticipation of the tree lighting filled the space with a merry aura.
“Did you know Bing Crosby originally sang this song in Holiday Inn before White Christmas?” Autumn asked as Blake pulled her onto the floor. She moved into his hold, one hand encased in his, the other on his shoulder.
“Nope. I’ll store that away, though, in my trove of fun facts courtesy of Autumn Kingsley.” They moved along perfectly in sync, melding into the dance with ease. “You dance well, Red.”
“Even in snow boots?” Her black pants were tucked into the white fur-trimmed boots, which matched the glowing white coat that traced her figure to her waist, then fanned to her knees. Though she’d doubted he would make the festival opening, she’d dressed carefully—just in case.
“Even in snow boots.”
They moved through the rest of the dance in silence until the last strains of Bing’s voice faded away. They were halfway through a second song when Blake spoke again. “Red?”
She looked up and for the briefest moment lost herself completely in Blake’s dark-eyed gaze. “Yes?” Her breathy word seemed to teeter in the crisp air.
His hand slid down her arm until their fingers laced. “Come on, I want to show you something.”
“But, the tree lighting—”
“They won’t start without us. We’re the coordinators, remember?”
He nudged her forward, stopping at Petey’s booth to get Kevin, then pointing to his Wrangler. “But where are we going?”
“Patience, pumpkin.”
She’d barely buckled her seat belt before Blake hit the accelerator, leaving the lights and sounds of the festival behind them. “This could be considered kidnapping, you know.”
He flashed her a crooked smile. “I don’t recall any real resistance, sweetheart. You could’ve called for help. You could’ve kicked me in the shin.”
“Could’ve. Probably should’ve.” And yet, there was no denying the delight puddling in her.
Didn’t take them long to reach his apparent destination—the baseball diamond on the edge of town? “There a winter ballgame I don’t know about?”
“The water tower, Red.” He pointed to the gray structure profiled by silver moonlight. “Surely you came here in high school.”
Uh, yeah. Not really her thing. She shook her head.
“I thought every Whisper Shore kid at one point or another climbed the tower on a dare. Or . . . for something else.”
Oh, now he got polite. “Just say it, Blake. It’s the prime make-out spot in the county.”
His exaggerated gasp fu
eled her laughter. “It’s true. Some towns have theaters or scenic overlooks. We’ve got the water tower. But I promise, no funny business. I just want you to see the view from up there.”
He didn’t think she’d actually climb that thing, did he? “Yeah, not happening.”
“You owe me. I made you crepes last night.” He slid from the car but then ducked his head back in. “But if you’re scared—”
She stomped from the car. “I’m not scared.”
His head appeared over the car’s roof. “Prove it.”
“Fine.”
“Really?”
“I said I’d do it, didn’t I?”
She craned her neck to look at the thing once more. Her eyes trailed the narrow metal ladder that scaled the side of the tower to a small landing rimming the round structure at the top.
Blake’s long strides led the way to the tower, hesitance dragging her own steps.
Oh, why couldn’t she just tell the truth? That she’d rather roll around in a patch of poison ivy than climb that thing. Shave her head. Get her tongue pierced.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Blake said into her ear. Irritating how well he could read her. “There’s nothing to it. Just don’t look down and you’ll be fine.”
“It’s going to be freezing up there. And with the snow, it could be a slippery climb. Is that really safe?” But Blake just kept walking. Autumn tipped her head back as they reached the tower’s base and he stepped back and waved her forward. Stupid, stupid, stupid. “Aren’t you going to go first?”
“I thought I’d go behind you. You know, just in case you need a little extra encouragement on the way up.”
He couldn’t go a minute without flashing that smug grin of his, could he. Her common sense told her to flee to the warmth of the car and climb in the back seat with Kevin.
But then she remembered Blake convincing her to sand-board. To spontaneously road trip with him to Illinois. To swing from a rope and land in a pile of hay. Every experience was one she knew she’d file away among her favorites. The man hadn’t steered her wrong yet.
So with a deep breath she placed her foot on the first rung, hoisted herself up, and began climbing. One rung down. Two. Three. This wasn’t so bad. Four. Five. Six. Halfway up she made the mistake of looking down. Oh boy.
