by Olivia Miles
Behind them, the old Victorian farmhouse looked like a life-sized dollhouse, decked out for the holiday. The pitched roof was covered in a thick blanket of snow, the beaded spindles of the front porch were generously wrapped in fresh garland, and a candle lit each window. In the bay window, Grace could see the gingerbread village Kathleen had arranged in a winter scene.
The wind was sharp, but Kathleen didn’t seem to mind. Her attention was rapt, and she barely heard Grace when she called out.
Grace sighed, trying again. Raising her voice, she shouted across the lawn, “I’m out of lights!”
With a disoriented frown, Kathleen turned, her expression lifting when she noticed Grace’s progress. “Sure, honey. Go warm up. I’ll be in soon.”
Stomping the bulk of the snow off her boots before she went inside, Grace inhaled the deep, warm aroma of gingerbread and spice cake as she closed the door behind her. It had been a long day—a busy one—and while she was tired to the bone, she was grateful for it. It had been just like old times. Grace had been so busy she hadn’t even stopped to really think about Luke. Or the bookshop. Or her mess of a life.
Until now.
She let out a weary breath as she set her coat and scarf on the back of a kitchen chair. Her fingers were red and chapped, and she ran them under the hot faucet until they tingled. A whole day had gone by without a word from Luke. When she thought of it, she felt incensed. After the way they left things off last night, she had hoped he might reach out to her, explain, or try to talk things through. Instead, nothing but silence.
She narrowed her eyes as she looked out the window, her mind filling with dark thoughts, until she recalled Jane’s words to her that afternoon.
She had a lot of regrets about Luke. Was she only creating more?
Her cell phone buzzed from the depth of her pocket, and the air stalled in her lungs. Speak of the devil… could it be? Her heart was pounding as she considered what she would say to him, what her approach would be, until she saw the name on the display screen.
It was Derek.
It rang a third time and her mind whirled with possibilities. She hadn’t spoken to him in a month, maybe more—she didn’t even know what she would say to him. The thought of his voice and the routine of their life in New York pulled her straight out of her childhood home, reminding her of the life she had, the one that was still waiting for her, there for the taking. If she wanted it.
She stared at the screen, at the name of the man she had spent so much time with but somehow never knew. And it was then that she knew what she needed to do.
She had built a life for herself, a successful one at that, but Briar Creek was her foundation. This was where she belonged.
Half an hour later, her car dragged to a stop on the slick mountain road. From a few hundred feet away, she could see the warm glow of Luke’s windows through the snow-covered tree branches. She steadied her breath, gripping her fingers tighter around the wheel.
He might not want to see her. She might only make things worse. But she had to know. Just like she did the time she’d shown up on his driveway, unannounced, and told him she’d made a mistake.
She pulled into his driveway, and his front door opened before she was out of the car. Her stomach fluttered at the sight of him leaning against the doorjamb in a gray long-sleeve T-shirt and jeans, his muscular forearms folded against his chest. His hair was tousled, as if he had just woken up, and from the looks of it, there was a day’s worth of stubble on his tight, square jaw.
She straightened her shoulders. This was it.
“Hey there,” she said softly, barely managing a smile. Her pulse hammered as she waited for him to speak, to say something that would make her feel less vulnerable for showing up here like this.
“I didn’t think you’d want to see me after last night.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t at first.”
“What changed your mind then?”
“I didn’t want to end things like the last time.” This time, she needed to be sure.
He stared at her for a measured second and then his lips curved into a lopsided grin. “I’m sorry about last night,” he said, and her stomach flipped.
Grace nodded, walking slowly up to the porch so she didn’t have to answer. She passed through the open door with only a sidelong glance in his direction, her heart speeding up at the flash in his eyes. Damn it, would the image of this man ever stop having this effect on her?
Chagrined, she smiled to herself. She knew the answer to that question. It was the reason she was here.
“Wine?” he asked, tipping his head in the direction of the kitchen, and Grace felt her shoulders relax.
“I’d love some.”
She followed him through the hall and watched in silence as he uncorked a bottle and filled two glasses.
“I didn’t come here about the store,” she began. She paused, accepting the outstretched glass and taking a sip of the warm, smooth wine. That wasn’t true. Not entirely, at least. “I came here to… talk.”
His eyes held hers with warm certainty. From his close distance she could smell the musk of his soap on his skin. She leaned into him ever so slightly, and then drew her back straight, averting her gaze.
With a grin, he gestured toward the living room, where the lights from the Christmas tree twinkled invitingly. “I have a lot to say, myself.”
She led the way, feeling the heat of his stare, as his eyes lazily roamed over her blouse and jeans, wondering if he felt the same lust when he looked at her as she did for him. There was a time when they could feed off each other’s touch more than food or water or even air. She closed her eyes, wondering if she would even feel that way again. No other man could light that fire in her.
“You go first,” she said, sinking back into the couch.
Luke sat at the other end, a comfortable distance, she noted with disappointment. She braced herself for the inevitable. He wasn’t ready to let go of the past—not any part of it.
Luke rubbed a hand over his jaw, making a faint scratching sound in the perfectly still room. “I don’t really know where to begin,” he sighed, and Grace pressed her nails into her palm. So here it was.
“It’s okay, Luke,” she said, giving him a level stare. “You don’t owe me an explanation. You moved on with your life. I obviously complicated things for you by coming back.”
“You did complicate things,” he admitted. “But you also forced me out of this rut I’ve been living in.”
She blinked. “Really?”
He nodded as a slow smile formed on his mouth. “You made me start thinking about everything I want out of life. Everything I can still maybe have. I thought it was too late, but maybe it’s not.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Grace opened her mouth to say something, but Luke leaned forward, silencing her with his mouth before she could form any words.
She parted her lips to his, releasing a breath as he slid his tongue along her lower lip and then slowly intertwined it with hers. She sighed into his mouth, quickly falling into the natural rhythm of their kiss, and something deep within her belly stirred as his mouth made its claim on hers.
His mouth never leaving hers, his tongue never hesitating, he leaned her back against the pillows, slowly guiding himself on top of her. She smiled through the kiss, enjoying the familiar weight of his body on hers. The way his shoulders felt so massive under her fingers, the way his hair smelled like soap and his skin smelled like sandalwood.
She ran her hands down the length of his back, warming under the heat of his body. His face was so close to hers, if she opened her eyes she could see every eyelash. Her heart ached with the memory of his touch, now so real, as if no time had passed.
His finger grazed the rim of her jeans and she quivered, nestling deeper into the cushion, under the wall of his chest above hers. He traced his finger under her sweater, circling her belly button and then higher, leaving a tingle in his path.
As his hand cam
e up over the swell of her breasts he pushed the sweater higher, until it was over her head, leaving her feeling small under the bulk of his muscled form. She reached out her arms, pulling his sweater over his head, and then ran her fingers down the wall of his chest, over the hardened muscles of his taut stomach.
He lowered himself onto her, his mouth finding hers again, slowly this time, lighter. The tip of his tongue traced her lips and then circled her tongue before probing her mouth, and she welcomed him in, feeling the weight of his body on hers as his mouth pushed deeper.
His fingers traced their way up her stomach and she arched her back with need. The space between her thighs tingled with anticipation. Pulling the lace cup of her bra over her breast, he bent down and took his mouth to the tender flesh, teasing the bud between his teeth until she moaned. She combed her hands through his wavy locks, pressing his head into her breasts, her belly pulsing with each flick of his tongue as desire mounted.
Luke reached behind her and unhooked her bra, pushing it to the side. Her skin was cool beneath him, longing for the heat he could bring to her, and her breasts rose and fell as he stared into her eyes, brushing her hair away from her cheek with the back of his hand.
With sudden hunger, his mouth claimed hers, his tongue frantic in its exploration, its need to bring them closer, connect them on every level. He groaned into her and she parted her legs, imagining what it would be like to feel him inside her again.
Tearing his mouth from hers, he traced her neck with delicate kisses that caused her to shiver and writhe. Idly, he rubbed his thumb over her nipple until it peaked under his touch.
“I want you,” he whispered, his voice low and husky, and she reached up and unhooked the button of his jeans, parting the zipper with a tug of her hands.
She was warm, ready for him. He slid her pants down her legs at an achingly slow speed, and her breath became labored as he ran his hand back up the length of her legs, angling to her inner thigh as he parted her knees. His fingers teased at the edge of her cotton panties and she sucked in a breath as they snuck under the elastic, stroking her until a fire was lit and she cried out.
With a small smile, he leaned into her, kissing her softly on the mouth as his hands slid the remains of her undergarments down her legs. As he centered himself over her, she traced her fingers down his back, tugging his boxers from his clenched and primed body, taking his firm butt in her hands as he guided himself inside her.
She gasped as the length of him filled her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her hands clawing at his back, his neck, nestling through his silky hair. She lifted her hips to match his effort, the tension mounting with each stroke, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her so close she gasped for breath. His thrusts were smooth and deep, and he groaned into her ear, the heat of his breath causing her insides to pool, and she relaxed further into him, her mouth fumbling for his.
His mouth was frantic on hers, fast and hard in its urgency as his breath came in spurts. She lifted her hips, pulling her legs higher and then cried out as she broke. He tore his mouth from hers as he groaned on a thrust, and then collapsed onto her chest, panting.
His warmth still filled her as they lay there, spent, and a tingle of pleasure still coursed through her as he ran his fingertips lightly over her warm flesh.
“Just like old times,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.
She hesitated. “Yes, but maybe—”
“Maybe better?” he finished, and her lips twisted into a grin. “Maybe you should disappear for five years more often,” he said.
No way in hell, she thought. She was right where she wanted to be, and this time, she wasn’t going anywhere.
CHAPTER
28
Grace woke at the first hint of sunlight rising up over the mountains, filling the living room through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Foggy from sleep, she squinted at the unfamiliar surroundings for a split second before a delicious warmth spread over her body.
Smiling, she pulled the blanket higher. The weight of Luke’s arm around her waist was heavy and secure, and she snuggled her back against the smooth plane of his chest, closing her eyes.
“Morning,” he mumbled, nuzzling into the nape of her neck.
A shiver traced its way down her spine, and she pressed herself closer against him, feeling the heat of his bare skin against hers.
“Sleep well?” he asked, kissing her bare shoulder.
“Never better,” she said, shifting herself on the plush rug so she faced him. He rolled over on his back and she settled against his chest. “Today is Christmas Eve Eve,” she said, tracing her fingers over the ripples of his abdomen.
Luke snorted. “You sound like my mother,” he said, combing his hair through his fingers.
She slid him a glance. “That’s not something you should say to a woman you just slept with.” She smiled, leaning in to kiss him. She had only intended a quick peck, but something about the touch of his tender flesh caused her belly to pool with warmth. She pulled back, and stared at the ceiling, smiling. She could stay here all day, exactly like this, but there was too much to do.
Besides, she and Luke would have many more moments like this.
“Oh, shoot,” Luke groaned. “Tonight’s The Nutcracker. My mother will be in rare form today.”
“You think your mother will be in rare form?” Grace shot back. “My mother’s decided to enter the Holiday House contest this year.”
Luke’s eyebrows drew to a point. “You’re kidding me.”
“I know!” Grace laughed. “I couldn’t believe it myself, but when she came by the store and saw the way I had decorated it, I guess it brought that itch to the surface.” She smiled, thinking of how much her mother had improved in the past few days, but when she looked over at Luke, her smile fell.
“What is it?” she asked, alarm causing her pulse to quicken.
After a pause, he shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, pushing up into a sitting position. His bare chest rippled in all the right places, and Grace reached up and ran a hand languidly down his back.
He glanced back at her over his shoulder. “I should get dressed,” he said, abruptly standing up.
Grace’s pulse skipped a beat as she watched him retreat into the hall. She strained her ears, mentally following his path as he padded up the stairs to the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
She dressed quickly and combed her fingers through her hair to smooth it down. By the time she had folded the blankets and set them on the coffee table, she heard the click of the bedroom door, and shortly after Luke appeared, refusing to meet her eye.
“What’s going on, Luke?” she asked, her heart began to race. “Was it last night? Was it too soon?”
“No. No, last night was…” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “It wasn’t last night.”
Exasperation filled her chest. “Then what, Luke? Something’s wrong. I want to know what it is.” She stared at him, her eyes pleading, but he looked away, determined to remain evasive. Distant.
She folded her arms across her chest, feeling alone and out of place. The fire in the hearth had burned out hours before, leaving the room cold and less welcoming than it had been the night before.
She shouldn’t have come here. She expected too much from him, and now she was paying the price.
“I thought you were over our past,” she said.
“I am.”
She took a step toward him. “Then why the cold shoulder?”
Luke let his attention drift over the room. “A lot is happening at once, Grace.”
Grace stared at him, her gaze narrowing, and then she sighed in disappointment. “You’re clearly not ready for this, Luke. You say you don’t want to keep living in this rut, but you like it there.” Her eyes filled. “You don’t want to move on, not really.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is.” She brushed at a tear before it could fall hating herself for co
ming back here, for letting herself get hurt again. “You don’t want to move on because you can’t let go of Helen.”
Luke shook his head. “Stop.”
“You think if you move on with your life—if you start living again—that you’ll be forgetting her, hurting her somehow.”
Luke dragged a hand down his face. He stared at the floor, his shoulders straining against his thin wool sweater. After a pause he shrugged, giving her a hooded stare. “Maybe,” he said, his tone low and husky. “But it’s how I feel.”
“You blame me for it,” she continued, realizing how clear it all was. “You can never move forward with me because I remind you of a part of yourself that you want to forget.”
Luke’s expression folded. He took a step forward, but she was already backing out of the room. “That’s not true, Grace. I mean…” He stopped, running a hand through his hair, his eyes darting wildly.
“See?” she snapped. She shook her head and pushed past him. Her tears were hot and thick, blinding her path to the door, but she could have found her way with her eyes closed. She knew this house—every inch of it. Just the way she knew Luke.
She opened the closet door and grabbed her coat and bag.
“Stop!” Luke ordered, his tone firm enough to cause her to obey. “Grace. Please. Turn and look at me. Please.”
She hesitated, sucking in a deep breath. With her back to him, it was easy. She could leave, get in her car, drive away, and never look back. But she knew how that road ended. It ended back in New York, walking the lonely streets, thinking of him the way she had for the past five years, even when she’d tried so hard not to.
She closed her eyes. It would never be easy with Luke.
Slowly, she turned, almost wincing when she saw the pain in his eyes, wishing he didn’t have this hold on her, that the sight of his face wouldn’t make her heart wrench every time.
“What, Luke? What do you have to say?” She tossed up her hands. “What more is there?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “All I know is that I don’t want you to walk out that door right now. I don’t want you to walk out of my life.”
