Yours to Hold: Ribbon Ridge Book Two

by Darcy Burke

  “They’re going to be working overtime,” she said, thinking about Derek and Chloe’s wedding that would be happening in less than two weeks.

  “Definitely getting a late start. Dylan’s pretty pissed about that, but he hasn’t been able to find anyone else, so we’re sticking it out.”

  She flashed him a smile. “Maybe I’ll come up here with my pruners one night this week.”

  “I could see you doing that—let me know if you do, and I’ll meet you.”

  She slid him a provocative look. “Don’t tempt me.”

  “It’s what I live for.” He brought her hand up and pressed a kiss to the back.

  The cottage came into view, and she was instantly impressed. It was a gorgeous, two-story craftsman-style building with wide windows, stonework, and a massive arched entry. “This is spectacular.”

  “You should’ve seen it before. It was a small, mid-twentieth-century ranch. I’ll show you some pictures.”

  “Wow, and Dylan transformed it completely. You say this was all Sara’s idea?”

  “Sara’s idea, Tori’s design, Dylan’s implementation. A team effort, really, but yeah, it’s technically Sara’s baby. She’ll be managing all the events here. She’s pretty excited about it.”

  “I would be, too.”

  “Let me show you inside.” He pulled his keys out and unlocked the door, then led her into a huge space.

  A wall of windows showed an expansive view of the valley. “This is magnificent. I think I want to get married here.”

  He laughed. “It’s pretty spectacular. This view is exactly what Sara wanted. That entire wall opens so that this space can flow out into the outdoor area.” Part of it was covered, providing shelter from sun or rain, but there was a large green space, too.

  She envisioned the bride and groom standing before the panorama amid a setting of flowers and greenery, which it wasn’t at present. It was a lackluster patch of half-dead, clover-infested grass. “Will the ceremony be out there, overlooking the valley?”

  He nodded.

  “I have to tell you, there’s a ton of work to be done out there. I hope your landscaper comes through.”

  “You and me both. I’ll follow up with Dylan again to make sure.” He turned and tugged her toward the back of the building. “Wait until you see the kitchen.”

  “Spoken with the excitement of a chef,” she said, grinning. Whereas the outside needed a lot of work, the interior looked completely done. There were little pieces of blue tape here and there to indicate things that needed fixing, but overall it was beautiful. And the kitchen was no exception. It was commercial but attractive, with stainless appliances and granite counters. There were plenty of work spaces, and she could see Kyle working his magic in here. “Do you get to test this place out?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. I don’t have anything to do with Derek’s wedding.”

  She wanted to ask why they hadn’t made up but figured he would talk about it when he was ready. He’d revealed so much to her, and she believed he would continue to open up.

  He ran his hand over the granite and tested the water faucet in the large sink.

  So he wasn’t going to open up about that today. That was okay.

  “What’s upstairs?” she asked.

  His answering look held a bit of smolder. “A wedding suite complete with a hot tub that would put the one in our hotel room to shame.”

  “Really?” Lust flared in her belly and spread lower, heating her core.

  “Don’t look at me like that.” He came toward her with a growl and swept her into a kiss. His mouth was hot and demanding, his hands hard and fast against her as he lifted her onto the counter and situated himself between her legs.

  When they came up for air a moment later, they were both breathing hard. She slid off the counter, her body gliding against his. “I suppose we should go before we do something we shouldn’t.”

  “I wish the bed had been delivered.” His voice was dark and sexy, and it raked along her nerve endings like a rough caress she couldn’t get enough of.

  She forced herself to walk away. “You’re a bad influence. Come on, I want to see where your restaurant will be.”

  He held his hand out. “If I wasn’t so excited to show you, I’d toss you back on that counter.”

  She shivered as she took his hand again, and he led her from the cottage. He locked the door behind them, and they retraced their steps to the parking lot.

  “After the wedding, the construction will move to the other buildings?” she asked. Maybe if they kept the conversation focused on the project, she wouldn’t be so tempted to jump his bones.

  “Yeah, the church will be my restaurant.” The pride and excitement in his voice when he said that was evident. “And the brewhouse will be added on—adapted from an outbuilding over on the other side of the church.”

  “Sounds great. I can’t wait to see how it comes together.” Yikes, saying things like that implied she would be around when it did. And she had no idea what the future held.

  They walked by the monks’ quarters, and he explained the plan for phase three—converting that into the hotel, which he’d earlier explained wouldn’t happen until sometime after the first of the year. “When do you expect the restaurant to open?” she asked as they neared the church.

  He opened one of the heavy doors and held it for her as she went into the cool, dim interior. “I’m actually hoping we can do a soft open in December and then a gala New Year’s dinner.”

  “That sounds great.”

  He slid his hand around her waist and let his hand skim down to caress her backside through the thin cotton of her tank dress. “There’ll be plenty of champagne,” he whispered.

  Again, heat flooded her core, and she wondered if she’d been too quick to scoot off the counter back at the cottage. Good lord, they weren’t college kids; they could keep their hands off each other for a little while. She drifted away and looked around the cavernous expanse. She could easily see how this had been a church, though the pews and altar were long gone. High, arched windows, some with stained glass, let light in and kept it from feeling like a gloomy, abandoned house of worship. “Tell me about your vision for the space.”

  “We’re keeping the stained glass. I love the character it provides. We’ll draw that into the interior design and try to stick with a craftsman feel. Since this is an Archer property, we’ll have art that matches the pubs—Chloe’s taking care of that.”

  “I’ve always loved the art in the Archer pubs. My dad’s an artist.”

  Kyle glanced toward her. “Really? What kind of art?”

  “Everything—paintings, sculptures, things you would never think were art.” She laughed. “Like the headdress he once made using repurposed sex toys.”

  Kyle froze in his tracks and turned to face her. “What?”

  “I told you my parents were strange.”

  He burst out laughing, his blue-green eyes sparkling in the filtered light. “Oh my God, that’s hilarious. How do you respond to that?”

  Relieved by his reaction—he could just as easily have been horrified, which is what she had been at seventeen—she smiled. “With a nod and a ‘very nice, Dad.’ It’s best not to engage too much, or he’ll talk endlessly about the symbolism and how if we all wore our sexuality out in the open, the world would be a more peaceful place.”

  Kyle regained his composure and wiped a hand over his cheek. “That’s probably true, but man, I don’t think I’d want to wear a dildo on my head. Does he still have this thing?”

  “I have no idea, and you can be sure I’m not asking.”

  “I don’t blame you.” He shook his head. “So this will be the main dining area. Lots of tables and cozy booths. We’re putting a huge fireplace in over there.” He pointed to the rear wall, where the altar must have once been. “And if you follow me, you can see where the kitchen will go. There are some offices back here and a small kitchen.” He took her through an archway t
o a corridor that led to the offices and the kitchen at the back.

  All the rooms were dingy and collectively contained a ramshackle assortment of furniture—odd chairs, a desk, a bookcase. The kitchen was very old—the counters had ribbed metal around the edges that held the Formica, or whatever it was, down.

  She walked to the window and looked out at more overgrown bushes behind the building. “Not quite the extravagant chef’s dream like in the cottage.” She turned and found him staring at her, his gaze shadowed. “What?”

  “I’m looking at a chef’s dream right now.”

  Her butt was flush against the counter, a wide, discolored white sink to her right. Oh! It took her a moment to realize he meant her. But only a moment because he stalked toward her with purpose.

  He thrust his hand into her hair and clasped her hip as his mouth came down hard on hers. He angled in deep, thrusting his tongue and claiming her with a fierce passion that stole her breath and her ability to think. His hand massaged her waist and hip as he pressed into her. Then he lifted her to the counter as he’d done in the cottage and spread her legs, shoving her dress up to the tops of her thighs. He splayed his hands over her flesh, his fingers kneading and stroking.

  She pulled at his hair and returned his kisses, desire curling through her. Place and time fell away so that she was only aware of the scent of the body wash she’d scrubbed into him that morning, the feel of his hair against her fingertips, and the taste of his mouth—fire and need and Kyle.

  He ran his hands up under the skirt of her dress and found the top of her underwear. She scooted closer to the edge as he worked the garment down over her ass. Using him as leverage, she came up off the counter so he could get the panties out from under her and strip them down her legs. He shoved them in one pocket while pulling a condom from the other.

  She laughed softly. “You came prepared.”

  His answering look gleamed with intensity. “Always with you.”

  She flicked the button of his shorts open and pulled down his zipper, then slipped her hand inside his boxer briefs to stroke his eager cock. “So prepared,” she murmured, licking her lips as she relived the blowjob she’d given him that morning in the shower. She’d never gotten turned on by performing oral sex before, but with him, she’d practically orgasmed. She wanted to do it again to see if she could get there . . .

  “You’re a naughty girl,” he breathed, accurately tracing her thoughts. “We should be quick.”

  “I don’t think I can wait.”

  “You are so fucking perfect.” He pulled his cock free, and she helped him roll the condom over his length.

  Then he was kissing her again, ravaging her mouth while he parted her legs and put himself at her opening. His tongue thrust at the exact moment his cock surged forward, spearing into her, filling her. She groaned into his mouth and wrapped her legs around his waist.

  The kiss intensified as he slammed into her. There was nothing slow or sensuous about this—not like the marathon session they’d engaged in the night before at his house. This was fast and necessary, primitive. Like running for your life.

  He wound his hand in her hair and pulled her head back, breaking the kiss with an almost violent tug. She gasped as his mouth latched onto her neck and sucked. Vaguely, she worried he might leave a mark, but she didn’t care. In fact, something about that excited her. This was rough and wonderful—so far from the unyielding control she’d been forced to endure before.

  She reveled in the delicious feel of his body pounding into hers and let out a series of incredibly indelicate sounds as her pleasure mounted. Clasping her legs around him, she gripped his back and dug her nails into his T-shirt. “Kyle,” she moaned, so close.

  He licked her neck and moved his hand down to cup her breast, squeezing her as he cried out his release. She came at the same time. Blackness veiled her brain as she lost herself to the moment. When she found her bearings again, he was heaving like he’d just run up the hill leading to the monastery—or was that her? Both of them, she realized.

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “God, Maggie. That was . . . wow.” He pressed a kiss to her lips, and she stroked the back of his neck.

  “Kyle?” The call came from the old sanctuary.

  Kyle straightened, his eyes widening. “Dylan,” he mouthed. He ripped off the condom, careful to keep it from spilling, and looked around for a place to ditch it.

  “Give me my underwear,” she hissed.

  He pulled them from his pocket and thrust them into her hand while he disposed of the condom in a random drawer and then readjusted his shorts.

  She was just sliding from the counter and smoothing her dress over her legs when Dylan walked into the kitchen. He stopped short upon seeing them.

  “Hey, Dylan, I was just showing . . . uh . . .” He looked at her in question, clearly not wanting to introduce her as Maggie Trent in case Dylan knew who that was.

  She doubted he did, but since he was Sara’s boyfriend, they had no idea what he knew. “Magnolia.” She waved at him across the kitchen. “Nice to meet you.”

  “This is Dylan,” Kyle said, looking relieved. “He’s the contractor I told you about.”

  “You’ve done an amazing job on the cottage,” she said. “Really, it’s breathtaking.”

  “Thanks.” Dylan looked between them, appearing a little confused or surprised or . . . something else. Did he realize he’d almost interrupted them having sex on the counter? Had he heard the noises she’d made? Maggie hoped to God she didn’t look guilty.

  Dylan turned to Kyle. “I came up to do a little finish work. I saw your car, but then I didn’t find you at the cottage. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t trapped underground or anything.”

  Maggie looked at Kyle in question.

  “There’s an underground tunnel between the cottage and the monks’ quarters. There’s also a large room where they used to store wine that they made. Dylan’s converting it into a sweet underground pub with a hobbit door built into the ground. In his spare time.” He threw Dylan a grin.

  “Yeah, right. I have loads of that. Almost done with the cottage though. Ahead of schedule, if you can believe that.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t.

  “Speaking of that,” Kyle said, “what’s going on with the landscaper?”

  Dylan rolled his eyes. “Asshole. For the record, I’m not including that in my schedule comment because yes, he’s behind, and I’m pissed. I’ve actually been trying to find someone else, but everyone’s booked up. It’s the high season, for Christ’s sake.” He pulled his phone from his back pocket. “That reminds me, I need to return a phone call about that. Fingers crossed this person pans out. Catch you guys later.” He nodded and then left.

  Maggie sagged back against the counter. “You don’t think he knows who I am?”

  “God no. I doubt he would’ve recognized your name, but I didn’t want to take any chances.”

  “Good call. So, uh . . .” It was past time to address the elephant in the room. “We haven’t discussed this. Whatever we have going here is great, but I’m not ready to meet your family or anything.” And she might never be.

  “I guess that means you never met anyone besides Alex? I’d wondered if maybe you’d met my mom or Sara, if they’d come to any of his appointments.”

  “If they did, they didn’t come in.” She’d recognize any one of them though—from pictures Alex had shown her and from the funeral. She’d snuck in late to the back of the church and had left before the service finished. She’d watched Hayden deliver the eulogy and Tori get up and speak. Talking about this brought all of the emotions back to the surface, and she struggled against an onslaught of despair and frustration.

  He broke into her troubled thoughts. “I think we’re on the same page—you aren’t ready to meet them, and I’m not remotely ready to introduce you. They’d never understand me seeing you. Especially my dad.” He raked his hand through his hair, something he did with frequency, she
realized, particularly when he was maybe feeling overwhelmed. “He’d completely lose it.”

  While she understood, it still hurt to hear that his family blamed her. Why wouldn’t they? She blamed herself. “Well, it’s a good thing it wasn’t one of them. Coming up here wasn’t such a good idea. Let’s go before someone else shows up.”

  “Yeah.” He gestured for her to precede him, and she noticed he didn’t take her hand like he’d done before.

  “Hold on, let me dispose of—”

  “The condom,” she finished for him. She left the church, and he came out a moment later.

  When they got to his car, she paused on the passenger side while he rounded to the driver side. “Maybe we should cool it a little. Like I said, this is great, but I need to get my head back and focus.”

  He looked at her over the hood of the car. “Probably a good idea.”

  She nodded and got into the car.

  All of the joy and contentment she’d felt earlier evaporated like it had been a dream. Maybe that’s all this was—a beautiful dream that was destined to end. If that’s what it was, she’d remember it fondly and just be grateful she’d had it at all.

  MONDAYS WERE UNIVERSALLY reviled as the worst day of the week, and there was a reason. Weekends were awesome, life-affirming, and Mondays just threw you back into the rat race. Or, in Kyle’s case, into the orbit of his dad and Derek, both of whom he was avoiding more than usual.

  He massaged his forehead as he tried to focus on the reports he was staring at. God, he was glad this job was temporary, and he really hoped he’d be able to cut back soon so he could focus on launching his restaurant. He ought to have a conversation with Dad about it, but he hadn’t yet. He added it to the growing pile of shit they should discuss but that he was avoiding.

  He’d been thinking a lot about Alex, too. Both because of his conversation with Maggie yesterday and because of what she’d said on Saturday—that he’d had a crush at work. Who had it been?

  His phone rang, startling him. The number was from The Arch and Vine, their Ribbon Ridge pub. “This is Kyle.”

  “Hey, Kyle, it’s Tommy. Any chance you can cook for me later? I’m down a body, and I’ve got no one else to call with decent experience. You did say you were interested in helping out some time, right?”