by Beth Andrews
Gracie sighed, took a turn patting Daphne’s hand. “I hate to break it to you, but if you’ve been friends with a guy, chances of it becoming something more are pretty slim. Believe me, I know. Seems to me that with friendships like that, where one person has more than just friendly feelings toward the other, someone always ends up getting hurt. And I...well, it would just suck if that someone were you. I mean, you seem really nice.”
“You’re sweet. And I appreciate the thought and the concern, but Oakes—”
“His name is Oakes?” Gracie asked. “For real?”
“It was his mother’s maiden name. Anyway, he would never hurt me. He couldn’t. He’s too kind. Too considerate.”
“But...don’t you think that, since you’ve known each other for so long, that if you two were meant to be together, something would have happened before now?” Gracie asked, seeming genuinely curious and not just trying to make a point.
Daphne pursed her lips. Considered the girl’s words because it was obvious she meant well. “I understand what you’re saying and normally, I would agree with you. And, if I had a patient who came to me with this problem, I’d tell them the same thing you just told me. But you see, the situation between me and Oakes is different. He’s just too honorable. He still sees me as a kid. Treats me like a little sister, even though we are not related. At all.”
She explained their unique circumstances to Gracie while the girl took another tray of cookies out of the oven. By the time Daphne was done, Gracie was wide-eyed and openmouthed. “And I thought my life was complicated.”
“The situation is tricky, I’ll give you that,” Daphne agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t make it work. We’ll have almost four days together, which will give me plenty of time to confirm that my feelings for him are real. And it will also give him plenty of opportunity to stop seeing me as Zach’s kid sister and to look beyond all the weird and wonderful ways our families are tied together.”
“So he’s staying here, too?”
“Yes. I was lucky enough to get the last available room here and not have to go to the hotel where the rest of the wedding guests are staying.”
Gracie turned off the oven. “Come on, then.”
Daphne slid off the stool when Gracie grabbed her hand and tugged her from the room. Daphne hurried to keep up with the teen—who knew legs that short could move so quickly? “You’re not kicking me out for sampling a few cookies, are you? Just add them to my bill.”
“Nothing like that. I’m going to help you—though I have to say, it’s against my better judgment.” They turned the corner into the dining room and Gracie knocked twice on the closed office door, then opened it before being bid to do so. “Fay, we have a guest here with a special request.”
Fay was a thin, strawberry blonde with smooth hair and a kind, gentle smile. “Of course,” she said as she stood and walked around her desk. “I’m Fay Lindemuth, the manager here. Welcome to Bradford House.”
Daphne shook her hand then sent a quizzical glance at Gracie. How was this woman going to help her and what did she mean they had a special request?
“Daphne needs to stay in a certain room, one next to a guest who hasn’t arrived yet,” Gracie told Fay as she gestured for Daphne to take a seat across from the desk. “It’s all for the greater good,” she assured the B-and-B manager. “And for love.”
“Of course,” Fay said immediately as she went behind her desk and started typing into her computer.
Stunned and grateful, Daphne sat there frozen. The best she’d hoped for was bumping into Oakes from time to time. Yes, the B and B was small, but if they’d been on opposite sides of it, she would have to spend more time lying in wait for the man.
“Fay’s a sucker for a good love story,” Gracie told Daphne.
“It’s true,” Fay responded, not upset to be called on her sentimental streak. “While our sweet Gracie is not.”
“But you helped me anyway,” Daphne said to the teen. She reached out and squeezed her new friend’s hand. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Gracie said, as serious as a heart attack. “I just hope, for your sake, this isn’t a mistake.”
“It’s not,” Daphne assured her. Going after Oakes was the best decision she’d ever made.
* * *
“ALL I’M ASKING,” Rosalyn said to Oakes over the phone as he slowly walked toward the foyer of Bradford House, “is that you promise me you’ll be here in time for brunch on Christmas morning.”
“Mom,” Oakes said, setting his bag down so he could squeeze the bridge of his nose. “I’ll be home.”
His mom was already nagging him to come home, and he’d only just arrived in Shady Grove twenty minutes ago. Had just registered for his room at the B and B, his preferred place to stay. He was happy to be away from the rest of his family, who were all booked into King’s Crossing, a four-star hotel on the river.
“But what if something happens?” she asked, sounding worried and stressed. Ah, the joys of the holidays. “You never know about weather delays, especially this time of year and in the northeast.”
“My flight home departs Pittsburgh before seven a.m. I’ll be in Houston by ten.” The time difference gave him an extra hour, plus he was taking a private charter so he wouldn’t have to deal with airline delays. He would have promised he’d fly home Christmas Eve, the same night as the wedding, but the ceremony was to take place in the evening, and he didn’t want to enable his mother any more than he needed to. The woman was a nervous wreck, worried she wouldn’t have all three of her sons home for Christmas. Stressed over her annual Christmas day brunch. Still angry with Oakes for taking Daphne to this wedding.
He was crazy about his mom, but she tended to worry about each and every possible scenario. Including a few she made up.
“All right,” she said, as if resigned to her fate of having an ungrateful, reckless son who’d ruin Christmas for everyone if he wasn’t there for brunch at 11:00 a.m. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. And I—I hope you enjoy yourself at the wedding. Please give Kane and his fiancée my best.”
He softened toward her. How could he not? She knew he’d be at the wedding with Daphne, was still upset about it, but had wished him well anyway.
“I will,” he told her. “You could have come, you know. Kane and Charlotte would have loved for you to be here.”
While he wasn’t sure that was completely true, as Kane kept most things—his thoughts and feelings, especially—close to the vest, his brother had invited Rosalyn to the ceremony. It was a considerate gesture, as Rosalyn had been his stepmother for ten years. But she’d declined, knowing that her being there would only upset Kane’s mother, Gwen.
Oakes was pretty sure Rosalyn would have preferred that type of consideration from Oakes when it came to Daphne, the daughter of one of the women Senior had cheated on her with. A pang of guilt hit him.
“It’s better this way. Some things are just not meant to be.” He had a feeling she was talking about more than her attending a wedding. He wasn’t about to ask for clarification, though. Not when he could guess her true meaning.
Mainly that he was not meant to be with Daphne, in any way, shape or form. Not even as friends.
“Well, I have to go,” Rosalyn said. “I need to pick up a few more things at the store. I love you.”
She sniffed and he knew she was about to cry. Damn holidays always brought out her weepy side, but this time he knew it was more than that. “Love you, too.”
He sat on the wooden bench to wait for the pretty, strawberry-blonde manager to take him to his room when his phone buzzed again.
He checked the screen. “Hey, Dusty.”
“Swear to God,” Dustin said in a harsh whisper. “If your ass isn’t here on Christmas morning, I will kill you in your sleep.”
Dustin
, in his second year at college, had been home on Christmas break for just over a week and being home, away from his friends and the freedom he’d gotten used to during two years at school in another city, was obviously getting to him.
Oakes grinned. “How’s it going at home, then? Enjoying being back?”
“Mom sobs at half the commercials on TV, but refuses to turn the damn thing off and keeps asking me to watch made-for-television Christmas shows with her.”
Dustin’s tone was bereaved with a healthy dose of irritation for good measure. “A man can only watch so many stories about women leaving their stuffy fiancé for an artist,” he continued. “And why does every small town in those shows have their own Santa look-alike. There can’t be that many old guys who look that way in real life.”
His brother sounded like a desperate man. Never a good thing for anyone, especially not a twenty-year-old kid. “Tell you what,” Oakes said as he stared out the front window at the gently falling snow, “get the key to my place from Mom. You can have a few friends over, hang out there for a night or two.”
“Yeah?” Dusty asked, excited and eager. “Thanks, man.”
“Hold on, I have a few conditions. One is that you don’t wreck the place. Keep your friends in line. Two, clean up after yourself. I want it to look better than the way I left it. And three, don’t even think about letting anyone drink while you’re there.”
“What? Come on. I’m in college. You remember college, don’t you?”
“Vaguely,” Oakes said dryly. “I mean it, Dusty. If you get caught drinking you’ll not only get into trouble with Mom and Michael and the authorities, but I will kick your ass.”
“Why do you always have to be such a freaking Boy Scout?” Dusty muttered.
It stung. Probably because he got it not just from his younger brothers, but his older ones as well. They all thought he was some sort of wuss. As if being a nice guy, being responsible and making good decisions, was equal to being spineless.
It didn’t. And he was getting damn tired of them thinking it did.
“You don’t like the rules? Stay home. I’m sure there’ll be a really interesting romantic holiday special on this afternoon. You and Mom can string popcorn.”
“Fine,” Dusty agreed quickly—because as Oakes had noted, his brother was a desperate man. “No property damage, no messes and no alcohol. I might as well see if Greg and his buddies want to join us since we won’t be doing anything illegal, immoral or enjoyable.”
“Great idea.” The manager stepped out into the hall and headed toward him. “I have to go, Dusty. Talk to you later.”
After hanging up, he made small talk with Fay Lindemuth as she led him upstairs to his room. She was a quiet woman and maybe a bit on the shy side, so managing a bed-and-breakfast, where she had to welcome strangers all the time, seemed like an odd choice of a career.
She explained when breakfast was served, that there was coffee and tea service every afternoon and wine and cheese in the evenings. At his room at the end of the long hall on the second floor, she unlocked the door with a real key as opposed to a key card, showed him where everything he’d need was and then left him to unwind and unpack.
He considered flopping facedown on the bed, maybe taking a nap. But his conscience wouldn’t let him. Not before he’d hung up his clothes.
And let Daphne know he’d arrived in Shady Grove.
He sent her a quick text then lifted his large suitcase onto the bed. He’d thought he and Daphne would be traveling together, but she’d been serious when she’d said she didn’t want him to pay her travel expenses. She’d texted him about an hour after she’d left his house that night two weeks ago to ask about accommodations. He’d told her that wedding guests were staying at King’s Crossing but he’d decided to try Bradford House. A few minutes later she’d let him know she’d already booked a flight and reserved a hotel room. Then she’d told him she was swamped for the next little bit and would just see him in Shady Grove. The only other time he’d heard from her since was when she’d texted him over an hour ago letting him know she’d just checked into her room.
It was for the best, he told himself as he hung up his clothes in the closet. They weren’t a couple and this wasn’t a weekend getaway. There was no reason for them to spend every minute of the trip together. Besides, he had duties as brother of the groom. Tonight, there was a dinner hosted by Charlotte’s parents, then later a small bachelor party. Tomorrow evening was the wedding rehearsal followed by another dinner. And, of course, the following day was the ceremony and reception, which was the only thing Daphne would be attending with him.
She’d be fine on her own. She didn’t need him to hold her hand. She was probably already off exploring the town. He wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t even see her until he picked her up for the wedding Saturday afternoon.
What did surprise him—and worry him—was the disappointment that followed that thought.
He enjoyed being with Daphne. And that made sense, as they were friends. But her showing up at his house drunk, wearing that damn dress, had triggered some overly friendly imaginings of the erotic kind. Starring the two of them.
They would eventually pass, he assured himself. They always had before.
But it kept getting harder and harder to push them back into the recesses of his mind. To ignore his attraction to her.
He was scared that one of these days he wasn’t going to be able to fight it. That he would do something incredibly stupid, like kiss her. Or take her to bed.
And either of those things would destroy their friendship, ruin any chance he might have at getting closer to Zach and break his mother’s heart should she find out.
He hung up a pair of pants, slapping the hanger on the rod with more force than necessary. No. It wasn’t worth it. He had to keep things just as they were. He had his life mapped out. He just needed to stay on course. Sylvie had already agreed to attend his mother’s New Year’s Eve party with him, but he could definitely step things up where she was concerned. He’d call her, ask her out for Monday night when he got back to Houston.
Yes. When it came to Daphne, the best course of action was to leave well enough alone.
He was just bringing up Sylvie’s contact information on his phone when someone knocked on the door. Expecting the manager again, he crossed the room and opened the door with a smile, only to feel that smile slowly fade away when he saw who it was.
His throat dried as he skimmed his gaze over Daphne. Her hair was down, the ends grazing her shoulders. Her sweater was all fuzzy and soft-looking and clung to her breasts and the indentation of her waist, the deep blue of the material bringing out her eyes. Her jeans were black, painted on and tucked into high-heeled, knee-high black boots. Her smile was wide, her mouth painted a deep and vivid red. She looked fresh and casual and sexy. Touchable.
Leaving well enough alone was going to be a hell of a lot harder than he thought.
Not because of the desire digging its sharp claws into his chest, stealing his breath. No, it wasn’t his physical reaction to her that had his gut aching, his head spinning. Wanting wasn’t the problem.
It was the need that was killing him.
The need to be with her, see her, talk to her more often than a few times a month. To simply be with her. A need that had grown slowly over time, increasing each year, each week, each day until it had become a part of him.
A need he was afraid would never go away.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“ARE YOU OKAY?” Daphne asked, frowning at him in concern. “You’ve been staring at me for like five minutes.”
The back of his neck warmed, though he was sure he’d only been staring a moment or two. “Daphne. What are you doing here?”
She raised her eyebrows and cocked a hip, drawing his attention, once again to those jean
s. “Well, I’m not getting much of a warm welcome, that’s for sure.”
He winced. Shook his head. “Sorry. I meant to say ‘hello’ then ‘what are you doing here?’”
Her eye roll said that wasn’t much better. “You texted me. Remember? Told me you’d arrived.” She tipped her head to the side. Sent a pointed look behind him as if to ask if he was going to invite her in. He almost didn’t.
Letting her inside his house two weeks ago was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place.
But then she took matters into her own hands, as she often did, and stepped forward with a sigh, forcing him to back up out of her way. But he hesitated at the door. It seemed like a bad idea, the two of them in what was, essentially, his hotel room together. Too cramped, even though the room itself was spacious. Too intimate with the huge bed there, as in “right there.”
He closed the door, leaving it open a crack, as if that alone would ensure they didn’t have complete privacy.
“No,” he said, going for casual and unconcerned by sticking his hands in his pockets and leaning against the dresser. “I mean, what are you doing here, at Bradford House? Guests of the wedding are staying at a hotel on the river.”
“Oh, that.” She faced him, but even though she stood still, energy pulsated around her, seemed to vibrate just under her skin. “Yeah, I’m staying here.”
He wasn’t going to start repeating everything she said again, like he had in their last conversation, although he found himself wanting to. He had a hard time following her at the best of times, and now, with her scent invading his room, her eyes bright, that small, secret smile playing on her glossy red lips, he had a tough time gathering his thoughts. Making sense of them. Of what he wanted to say.
Of what he wanted, period.
“Why are you staying here?” he asked, knowing he sounded like a lawyer but unable to stop himself. “Instead of at the other hotel?”
She wrinkled her nose. “And take a chance of running in to Kane and C.J.’s mother? I don’t think so. With my luck, we’d get stuck in the elevator together. The stress would kill me. From what I’ve heard, that woman is scare-eee.”
