Holly Cortelyou
KISS ME AT LAST
A Wescott Springs Novella
Kiss Me at Last
Westcott Springs, A Novella
Holly Cortelyou
Published: 2016
Copyright © Published: 2016, Holly Cortelyou.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
For permissions contact: [email protected].
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www.HollyCortelyou.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Kiss Me at Last (Wescott Springs, #2.5)
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Come get a FREE E-COPY of Last Resort Love!
...and find out how it all started in Wescott Springs with Nick and Krissa!
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LAST RESORT LOVE
One daring whim leads to a whole lotta smokin’ hot temptation...
Bad luck be gone...Krissa Courtland whispers her vow and stabs a pin in the map. No more cheating exes or downsized jobs. With fingers crossed, she lands in Colorado, but right off a storm flattens her dream cabin. But disaster turns delicious when smoking-hot Nick Olin saves the day. And now Vail’s sexiest resort developer is her landlord and next door neighbor.
Nick’s silky brown curls and teasing smile are tempting, but Krissa can’t shake the ache in her soul and won’t trust in love. Too bad for Krissa, Nick has other ideas. With her luscious curves and vulnerable amber eyes, Nick is oh-so-distracted from his empire building. Every time Nick makes a move, Krissa bolts. Can Nick prove he’s trustworthy and just the man to heal her heart? Or will Krissa run out on her chance at love?
Dedication
To Heather...my original cheerleader and bestest (and onliest) sister!
Acknowledgments
Every book is created with love, hope, and a dollop of crazy, and I couldn't have done it without the support of my friends and family. I especially wish to thank my fellow writers, Rosalie Redd and Lisa Hendrix, for their thoughtful and helpful editing input —you've been an enormous boon on my writing journey!
Thank you so much to Kerry Genova for her thorough and insightful edit and to Valerie Tibbs of Tibbs Design for another adorable cover in my Wescott Springs series. You guys are awesome!
And a little bonus shout-out to Margo of the Old 99 Road Wine Shop—you've been shaping my champagne and vino palate for almost a decade...so Cheers!
KISS ME AT LAST
CHAPTER ONE
A CLANG. A CRASH. A muffled curse echoed through the closed door separating the kitchen from the wine bar. Melinda winced. Another champagne flute lost to the carelessness of the packing crew.
Why again was she spending her life’s savings on remodeling her beloved business? She glanced at the chips on the edges of the long, black granite countertop bar that stretched for eight feet from the front window. Her eyes knew where to look for every ding on a chair back, each scratch on the display shelving, and the scattered worn spots on the aged oak floors.
The whole shop looked well-tended, although a little tired. If she wanted to take the wine bar to the next level, it needed to look the part. Colorado casual was the vibe, but all the details needed a posh and trendy gloss. It was Vail after all.
The kitchen door flew open. A buzz of voices and the screechy, sticky sound of tape sealing up boxes assaulted her ears. Standing in the doorway, Melinda’s main hostess and today’s packing supervisor flipped her braid over her shoulder and jammed her fists onto her hips. Esme had an irate frown marring her normally cheerful face.
"I've counted twice, and I'm sure they didn't bring enough of the boxes for the wineglasses. We're going to need at least four more."
Melinda nodded and maintained a serene expression. "I'll call and make sure—"
The bells on the front door rang. A delivery gal strolled in with a two-wheel dolly stacked high with cases of wine.
"Bother. I didn't cancel today's order." Melinda's forehead scrunched up. What else had she forgotten in the mayhem of getting ready for this remodel?
"I'll talk to the chief packer and see what I can do to get more boxes," Esme said. Something must have caught her eye because she stopped and stared out the front window.
"Your day's about to get even better." Esme smirked and pointed. "Look who's coming just for you!"
Melinda peered through the clear glass and spied all six feet and thick dark beard of Sean McMallory. Was it too late to lock the door?
"Don't be silly," Melinda said. "McGrumpy is just here for the truffles. You know we're the only place in town he can find this brand." Her tone was lofty, but inside she cringed. McGrumpy had made her look like a fool last spring, and she was still not ready to live and let live.
"There's zillions of delicious imported chocolates, but he only gets the Rose de Champagne truffles from here. I think it's you he comes to see. It's your British accent." Esme winked and put her hands together in a heart shape.
Melinda faked silent gagging noises. "Nonsense. He spends more time talking to you than he ever does with me. Besides, I know he hasn't forgotten our battle at the town council meeting. I'm sure he hates it that I'm right and he's wrong." Even if his opinion had carried the vote, he was sadly mistaken.
The delivery woman tapped her foot and glanced at both Esme and Melinda as she extended her clipboard for a signature. Melinda took the sheets and started to compare the boxes with the invoices.
"How about I handle this and the packers, and you take care of McGrumpy?"
The phone rang, and Melinda rolled her eyes heavenward. She pivoted to make a quick exit to her office, but Esme darted in front of her and grabbed the ringing phone.
"Thank you for calling White Rose Champagne and Wine Bar, how may I help you," Esme said. She smirked at Melinda.
The five small door bells chimed merrily again, and Melinda spun around with a cool, plastic smile etched on her lips and cheeks. McGrumpy might have been rude and dismissive of her at that council meeting, but she was a businesswoman with impeccable manners.
Sean McMallory marched through the doorway and straight to the cash register.
Her breath caught a little in the back of her throat. Somehow she was never quite prepared for his piercing, deep green eyes staring steadily at her above his straight, strong nose and closely trimmed dark brown beard. Totally gorgeous, and totally unfair.
"You timed it right, Mr. McMallory, we'll be closing early today."
He glanced around the bar and seemed to take in the empty boxes and half-filled wine racks, but he didn't ask any questions. Why was he so difficult to talk to? What an oaf. Melinda rubbed the tips of her fingers together. Game on. He was not going to ignore her this time.
"We missed you last week, Mr. McMallory."
&nbs
p; "Out of town." He pulled out his wallet.
He didn't wish to communicate with her, but quite contrarily, she wanted to make him notice her. "On business or pleasure?" she said with a practiced flutter of her eyelashes. Her customers ate it up, but clearly, it irritated Sean McMallory. That was a bonus point to her.
"Some of both, I suppose." His tone was clipped and cold. "Do you have any of the pink-sugared truffles available today?"
"You mean the Rose de Champagne truffle chocolat?" Melinda put on her best French accent and made sure she sounded carefree. "Always! It's one of our best sellers...thanks to you. I love the rosy-colored sugar crystals over the white chocolate. It's a delight for the eyes and the taste buds." She almost laughed out loud.
Sean pulled out his debit card. He didn't even blink and still stared at a point slightly above her shoulder. Melinda's nostrils flared.
"May we tempt you with a tasting today?" Melinda asked.
"No, I'm on a schedule."
"Are you sure? We have some new sparkling wines that we've never carried before. A delicious one from Oregon's Willamette Valley and a citrusy cava from Spain that has a surprisingly low price point."
He stared at her with those penetrating emerald eyes and Melinda's voice petered to a stop. There was a small furrow between his eyebrows as if he was curiously studying a new breed of beetle or a peculiar specimen of noxious weed.
Melinda gurgled a nervous laugh. So much for unnerving him with a bout of pushy flirtation. She went for broke. "One of these days, we're going to convince you to sample our wares."
Sean's gaze whisked from her face to her chest and then down to her hips before returning to her eyes. Melinda flushed. That backfired.
"I'm a beer kind of guy. I'm here for the truffles." His voice was dismissive, but his eyes widened as if he noticed the disparity in his choice of words.
Melinda blinked and refused to smile, but she had gotten under his skin...at least a smidge. "You might be surprised. Many of our goods are most approachable to any type of customer. You only have to be open-minded to new things."
A flicker of a grin played at the corner of his lips, and a glimmer of triumph streaked through her veins. Ha! She'd scored a hit. But just as quickly, his expression darkened. He glanced at the ornate clock hanging on the wall.
"I'm running late," Sean said. "I'll stick with the usual."
"Of course," Melinda replied and was careful to keep her fingers from touching his as she took the debit card from his hand.
Without another word, Sean signed the receipt, picked up the white and gold bag with its expensive cache of rich, French chocolates, and exited out the door.
She glared at his retreating back and wished for the hundredth time that he would move to a new town. Melinda scrunched her nose in irritation.
Why did McGrumpy rile her up so much? He'd given her a tongue-lashing in public, and he was a coldhearted jerk, yet, why did he make her tummy flip-flop when he walked through her front door?
Each time she was sure she would treat him like any other paying customer, but it never worked. That challenging stare of his made her take the bait. What on earth had possessed her to flirt with him today? She winced.
He'd certainly looked surprised when she'd batted her eyelashes, and then he'd been annoyed. As if he didn't trust her motivations. Well, he was right about that.
She was getting the distinct impression that he might almost dread coming into the store. Did Sean dislike her as much as his attitude vexed her?
Sheesh. McGrumpy had been coming to the wine bar every two weeks like clockwork to pick up a small box of very expensive sweets.
Who was getting those truffles? Did he have some girlfriend with a chocolate fetish? Or did he take truffles and flowers to his girl of the week? Not that she cared, or that Esme and she had speculated endlessly on the lucky recipient.
She wasn't going to think about Sean McMallory anymore. It wasn't like she was mooning after some construction bloke. It didn't matter that his eyes seemed to look into her soul and that his shoulders made her want to snuggle into his safe embrace. No. Not at all.
She was an independent woman. She needed no man. Especially not some fellow who was probably all about beer, football, and whatever else gorgeous guys who always wore flannel, jeans, and work boots were into.
Indeed!
Sean was simply another customer. If all he chose to buy were chocolates for some girlfriend of the week or if he had some peculiar cacao fetish, well, who was she to judge?
She was a businesswoman. Right? Perhaps it was time to convince him to double his order. She was here to make a profit after all.
Esme pushed through the doorway from the back kitchen with a tray full of sparkling clear wineglasses.
"So did he finally ask you out?" Esme arched her eyebrow suggestively.
"As though I were interested," Melinda said loftily.
"Maybe we should add a beer growler station to appeal to his market demographic."
"Ugh. That's the last thing I want. We're a specialty shop, not Joe's bar and grill. You can get beer any old place."
Esme pointed at Melinda and mouthed the words "Got ya."
Melinda shook off her instant irritation. "Lord, I bite at that one every time, don't I?"
Esme gave her a knowing look, and Melinda was sure that her frustration was with McGrumpy rather than some silliness about what she sold at the wine bar. She was done thinking about him. In less than two hours, the movers would be here, and she needed to get everything ready for the renovation to start tomorrow.
Her heart ticked a beat faster as excitement built in her belly. She'd bought the store a year earlier and had finally saved up enough money to redecorate and redesign the wine bar. She might be eating toast and beans for a few months, but it was going to be worth it.
Esme hummed a tune as she wiped down the counter, and Melinda felt a surge of gratitude that she was blessed with such an amiable and helpful employee.
"Are you sure you're okay with working overtime tonight?" Melinda asked.
"Of course I am," Esme said. "As if I'd leave you in the lurch to supervise all of the packing."
Melinda hugged Esme gratefully. "I'm so wound up about the changes. I'm still not convinced that we can run a mini-version of the wine bar in the middle of a remodel."
"It'll work. You and that designer figured out all the details."
"What sounds good in theory so often gets bollixed up in practice."
"There's been a lull in the tourist traffic. Maybe everyone is gearing up for back to school?"
"At least there are two conventions starting next week, so I'm hoping we might get some traffic from that. I hate to think of all the sales we're going to miss out on since we can't operate at full capacity, but this was the only time slot available on the contractor's schedule."
"Don't worry, it'll all work out." Esme stroked a sunstone dangling from a chain around her neck and smiled serenely. "Everything proceeds as it should."
Melinda wished she had that same New Age good vibe that Esme grooved on. She shuddered thinking about how close she was cutting it on her cash flow for the next two months of demolition and reconstruction.
She'd been pinching and saving like a madwoman for the last year in order to save up for this dream renovation so she wouldn't have to run to the bank for a loan. She could do this on her own. She didn't need anybody's help to make her business succeed. She crossed her fingers and sent a wish skyward.
"I think this might be the first time I pray that the snow doesn't fly early! I want to be ready for the first swarm of skiers," Melinda said, trying to lighten her mood.
Esme laughed and put one last glass into the packing crate. "I'm heading over to see Ella Winters tomorrow morning. What do you think I should bring her?"
"She’s such a lovey, and I'm so glad she came through the knee surgery without any troubles," Ella was a white-haired charmer with a wry sense of humor, and one of her favorite cus
tomers. "I don't suppose a bottle of wine would be the right thing as she’s probably on a bunch of pain meds. How about we make up a gift basket with chocolates, crackers, and a few other things? I'll go gather up some items for you to bring her."
Melinda hummed Esme's tune under her breath as she snagged tasty treats from around the store. Poor Ella. Knee replacement sounded horrid and painful. The least she could do was send a relief basket of goodies, and maybe she would put together a case of Ella's favorite wines for when she was safely home again. She loved her customers, and so many of them were absolutely wonderful...unlike the prickly and ill-tempered Sean McMallory.
Not that she cared, right?
CHAPTER TWO
SEAN DUMPED A heap of grocery bags on the kitchen counter and wished he wasn't so damned tired.
His flight had gotten in late last night, and he was jetlagged and still living in a Caribbean time zone. He'd spent a long day catching up on all his construction sites, sorting mail, checking invoicing, and solving two employee temper tantrums.
He'd been sure that he was going to deliver the truffles he'd picked up, but after an emergency meeting with a client over a permitting issue, he couldn't muster the energy for that emotional roller coaster.
After a visit, exhaustion was the rule, not the exception. He'd have to find time for one before the end of the week. Sean straightened his shoulders and reminded himself that duty and love were his number one priority. After all, there was no one else in her life. Tag. He was it.
He was done with self-pity and moping. Friday. He'd stop by on Friday.
His house phone rang. He scowled but picked it up anyway. Telemarketer or bad news.
"Sean McMallory here."
"Oh thank goodness you picked up at last," a familiar female voice sang out. "It's Jill. I tried your cell, but kept getting voicemail. I need to talk to you, not leave a message. I have a huge favor to ask."
Sean shook his head, but a smile now played at the corners of his mouth.
"I think you’ve used up all my goodwill after the Cinderton project last year," Sean said, but there was laughter in his voice.
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