His Brother's Christmas Bride

by Aislinn Kearns

  “Oh, wow,” Molly whispered as they stepped inside.

  Will paused to see the entrance through a stranger’s eyes. Marble floors, white walls with art hanging on them, a huge staircase that led to the upper floors. He supposed it was impressive. He’d become immune to the grandeur over the years. Not because he thought the richness was his due, or anything. More because the memories of this house were tainted.

  Tainted with his parents’ antics through his childhood, their fights and hatred. The neglect of their children.

  But it was still the only place he’d had to go to after his divorce. The only place he could hide away and not be disturbed.

  “We could do the reception in here,” she said, looking around. “Since, given the weather, we should do it inside. A bit tight, but I could make it work.”

  “You could. Or in the ballroom.” It had been years since the room had been used for entertainment, but all the guests should fit comfortably. Unless Molly had a huge family? He didn’t even know.

  Molly blinked at him. “There’s a ballroom?”

  Will nodded, oddly embarrassed by the fact. He’d forgotten he lived in a place with a ballroom, forgotten what that meant to other people. He was a blue-collar guy in every aspect of his life—his job, tastes—and he only used a tiny fraction of the huge house.

  Most days, he forgot the rest of it was even there.

  He set the luggage in the middle of the entrance hall and strode to his left. “It’s not used as a ballroom now, obviously. It’s a showroom.”

  “Showroom for what?” she asked as he pushed the doors open.

  There was no need for him to reply as all the pieces came into view. Chairs, tables, sculptures, and everything in between. All made from wood, placed about the huge space to best show them off.

  Will usually custom made pieces for a client to their exact specifications, but when he’d first set up shop as a carpenter, he’d needed a way to show what he could do. Sometimes he sold pieces directly from this showroom when he took potential clients through, but mostly he used the pieces to impress them, prove he was the right man for the job, and they hired him on the spot.

  When he had no custom pieces to build, he’d take the time to add a new piece to the showroom. If there was no room, he’d take out an older piece he wasn’t completely happy with and donate it to a place or person who needed it. The process kept him busy and learning.

  “Who made all these?” Molly breathed, fingers trailing over the back of an armchair, though it may as well have been his skin. He swallowed, mesmerized by her unconsciously sensual movements as she swayed through the space, touching and stroking.

  “I did,” he muttered. Peter really hadn’t told her anything about him, huh?

  She glanced up, eyes shining, and Will tore his gaze away so he wouldn’t reveal what he was feeling. “They’re beautiful. You’re talented.”

  Will ducked his head. “I don’t know about that. I just like making stuff.” It was a simplified version of the truth. He liked the satisfaction of constructing something that fit together perfectly. He liked working with his hands, clearing his mind. He liked the simplicity of it, the control.

  “This isn’t stuff. This is…art.”

  Will’s chest puffed out in pride. “Thanks.”

  And, damn it, if that didn’t make him like her more. Why couldn’t she be the cool ice-queen he’d imagined? Why did she have to be beautiful and nice and like his art? He’d worked hard to build his skills, constantly testing new techniques and styles to have her notice and appreciate that sent his heart spinning.

  “Will this room work?”

  “Absolutely. It’ll be perfect.” Her eyes roved across the space as if seeing the finished result. That must be the interior designer in her, able to envision the final space before she’d started.

  Will was the same with his pieces. He needed to see it in his mind to the last detail before he could start.

  Will waited until Molly returned to herself with a brisk nod before he spoke. “Let me show you to your room.”

  He returned to the suitcases and hefted them up, then headed towards the stair. Her footsteps on the marble told him she was following.

  “Have you always been a carpenter?” she asked.

  “As a hobby. Made it my career after the divorce.”

  “I can see why.” She was quiet for a moment until they reached the second floor. “Do you mind if I clear the ballroom out for the reception?”

  “If you can find somewhere to put everything,” he puffed. He refused to rest, despite his lungs burning and his arms aching from the weight he was carrying. This woman clearly didn’t know the meaning of traveling light.

  “Thank you.”

  “Tell me if you need help with any of the bigger pieces. I’ll mostly be out of your way, since I have a lot of last minute jobs to finish before Christmas. For presents and such.” It was mostly the truth. But more than that, he wanted to stay as far away from Molly as he could until he forced his brain back under control. “But I can take an occasional break.”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  He reached the room and set the cases down.

  “I’ve put you in Peter’s old room,” he said. He’d spent the night airing and dusting and washing, since the room hadn’t been used for years. But it was the most appropriate one in which to put Peter’s fiancée.

  “Oh,” she said. “Thank you.” She didn’t sound entirely pleased by his choice, but it could be the room itself. Plain walls—a white that bordered on gray, plain bedding, plain, store-bought furniture. Will had often asked Peter if he should make a new bed or dresser for the room, but Peter didn’t care enough for him to bother with it.

  As much as the room suited Peter’s uptight, efficient nature, it didn’t at all gel with Molly’s more eccentric style. Her brightly-patterned dress, her purple hair, her red shoes, all spoke a woman who loved color.

  Would she see a different side to Peter, staying here? Will couldn’t imagine what she saw in him, particularly enough to marry him, and in such haste. They were so utterly different. Was he hoping she’d see the light?

  Or was that simply the strange feelings he was having for her talking instead?

  He couldn’t be jealous, he refused to be. He wasn’t that guy who would get between a couple. Not an uncommitted one, but definitely not one about to be married. Not with his history. And to do that to his own brother? Not a chance.

  “I’ll let you get freshened up,” he said. “Bathroom is across the hall, my bedroom is further along. If you need anything in the night I’m there.” He indicated to his bedroom door, two down from hers.

  Whatever he was planning to say next got stuck in his throat. For the first time, he noticed how narrow this hall was. It made Molly stand close—too close.

  Will swallowed heavily as heat lanced through him. Oh, this woman was definitely trouble.

  Chapter Three

  Will mostly had himself together by the time Molly came downstairs. Mostly.

  He had no idea what was wrong with him. It was like his mind fled the instant he’d caught sight of Molly, and hadn’t yet returned. At this point, he wasn’t convinced it ever would.

  She hadn’t changed, still in her bright, fifties-style dress with her hair pinned up, though she’d discarded the jacket. The look suited her to perfection. Even the purple hair could be her natural color, the way she carried it.

  In one hand, she held a patterned notebook with a pen hanging off the spine.

  “Tea or coffee?” he asked, coming into the entrance hall from the showroom. He’d hid there so he wouldn’t appear like an overeager prom date waiting at the bottom of the stairs. In his haste to leave he hadn’t told her where the kitchen was or how to find him when she was ready, meaning he’d had to hover awkwardly in wait so she wouldn’t need to search for him.

  “Tea would be great, thank you.”

  “I prefer tea, too,” he told her as he led her through th
e back of the house toward the kitchen.

  “As a nation we’re too obsessed by coffee. It baffles me. It’s much harder to make well, it’s more expensive, and doesn’t taste as good.”

  “It does have more caffeine,” he pointed out. “And sometimes you need that.”

  “True,” she allowed.

  Will turned back to check on her, to find her eyes warm with amusement. His heart kicked. Yeah, he didn’t have himself together at all.

  “This place his huge,” she commented as they stepped into the kitchen.

  The room had been updated a few decades ago into the country style. White cupboards, lavender wallpaper with delicate flowers, yellow curtains, currently open so they could see the view to the trees beyond.

  A breakfast table with four chairs around it was to his left. It was the first thing he’d made after he’d arrived, not wanting to use the over-sized formal dining room on his own. Or ever.

  “Yeah, it’s a bit ridiculous. When our parents gave it to us during their divorce, Peter and I almost sold it. No point in having a house this big for only one of us, or even both of us. But the economy was bad at the time and no one wanted a place this big. We held onto it, waiting for a better time to sell. But then I left Ann and moved in. The rest is history.”

  Will couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken so much in one go. He wasn’t chatty by nature, but his awkwardness around Molly was taking over, making him babble.

  “It’s a great place. Definitely too big for one person, but a large family could be comfortable here. Or you could turn it into a B&B.”

  “Yeah. We’ll figure out what to do with it eventually.” He began the process of making tea as Molly leaned her hip against the bench and watched him. His skin prickled all over, knowing her eyes were on him.

  He licked his lips and willed his heart back to a normal pace.

  “Has your family always owned this place?”

  “No,” Will admitted as he put the kettle on the stovetop. “My parents bought it as a getaway house for vacations. Or, more accurately, for week-long parties where they could get up to all kinds of stuff.”

  He peeked at Molly to see her frowning at him.

  “What kind of stuff?”

  Pete hadn’t told her about their childhood? Will wasn’t sure he should be the one to spill the beans, but surely Molly should be made aware of their history. And if she and Peter were to marry, it wasn’t like he could keep it a secret for long.

  Will was no longer sure whether Molly knowing so little about the family she was marrying into was a sign of her and Peter’s too-short courtship, or simply a sign of Peter’s distracted nature. He could easily imagine his brother forgetting to tell his future bride anything important about himself.

  “You haven’t met them yet, I’m guessing?”

  She shook her head.

  “Our parents are…um…wild, to put it nicely. Not so much these days, but when we were kids, for sure. Drugs, sex, alcohol, the works.”

  “And they did that here?” she hissed, peering around the room as if there might be some evidence of previous escapades. He’d had the place scrubbed from top to bottom multiple times before he’d moved in. If only he could scrub his mind of the memories so easily.

  “Yeah. They’re prominent lawyers in the city. I’m sure Peter told you. They needed somewhere more private, not because the parties and lifestyle were a secret, but more for plausible deniability.”

  “Wow. That’s…something.”

  “That’s one word for it,” Will said with a chuckle. He’d worked hard to remember that time with baffled amusement, rather than the creeping horror he’d had as a child.

  “Did they bring you and Peter along?” she asked.

  Will shrugged. “Yeah. They didn’t have much else they could do with us, since they wouldn’t hire permanent staff like nannies for fear of gossip. When their friends came, we were told to stay in our rooms. I usually snuck into Peter’s after dark and the two of us would talk and talk to drown out the noise from below.”

  “Gosh,” she said, her eyes wide. “I can’t even imagine.”

  “The parties weren’t even the worst part,” Will told her, apparently warming to his story, gratified by her interest, even though it was for Peter’s sake that she cared. “It was the fights afterward.”

  “Fights?” she asked.

  “My parents rarely stayed faithful to each other, but both had a jealous streak. After they’d crashed from the high—literally and figuratively— of the parties, they’d usually have heated arguments about the other’s behavior.”

  “Gosh. That’s…gosh.”

  Will couldn’t look at her wide-eyed surprise. Possibly it had been the wrong conversation topic to bring up only an hour after meeting this woman. It was a far too telling detail of his and Peter’s childhoods. But, damn it, she planned to marry Peter, and their parents’ actions had affected them in more ways than they could ever know. And she’d find out eventually, right?

  “It sounds like a difficult childhood,” she murmured.

  “It was,” he admitted. “But it made me into the man I am today. For obvious reasons, I can’t stand cheaters.”

  It came out as a warning, but for her or himself? He wouldn’t be a part of the kind of relationship his parents had, whether being cheated on, or doing the cheating. That he was drawn to Molly didn’t change that.

  He glanced at her to see her reaction to his statement to find her eyeing him oddly. Good. That meant she hadn’t noticed his extremely inconvenient attraction to her.

  “You’ll meet them next week for the wedding,” he commented. “Thankfully not together. They finally got a divorce seven years ago and are much better people because of it.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  Will finished making the tea and handed her one. “Sugar?”

  “One, thanks.”

  He pushed the sugar jar across the benchtop and handed her a spoon. Her fingers brushed his as she took it from him, and his heart somersaulted.

  “What about your childhood?” The question was mostly to change the subject, but he was genuinely curious about her.

  She laughed lightly, stirring her sugar in. “Pretty idyllic, actually. Particularly compared to yours.”

  “That’s not hard,” he commented dryly.

  “True. But, yes. We lived in a nice house in a nice suburb in a nice part of the city. Very conformist, but peaceful.”

  “Is that why you’re…less conformist now?” he asked, eyeing her purple hair.

  “Exactly. It’s nice to have a job that lets me be a little less conservative.”

  Will nodded, figuring that interior design would allow for a more artistic style.

  “Well, I like it,” he said, then cursed himself. He shouldn’t be commenting on her appearance. He shouldn’t be noticing her appearance. He took a gulp of too-hot tea to calm himself and nearly choked.

  “Thank you.”

  He still couldn’t imagine his uptight brother with a woman like this. She was so bright and fun and funky and his brother was…the exact opposite of that. But was that the point? Peter had always dated women who were female versions of himself, but he’d never married any of them. Maybe the differences between him and Molly was what made Peter finally take the leap into matrimony.

  “How did you meet Peter?” he asked, dying of curiosity despite the unpleasant churn in his gut any time he thought of them together.

  “We met at a party Peter’s company threw. I was a date of a client’s brother, though that didn’t work out.”

  “Right.” And then because he still didn’t want to imagine Molly and his brother together, he didn’t ask any follow up questions. “I suppose you want to see the property?”

  “Yes, that would be great.”

  They set down their empty tea mugs and Will began the tour. He showed her the public rooms on the ground floor first. The huge dining room off the kitchen, the two separate living a
reas beyond.

  “How many guests can you sleep?” she asked.

  Will stumbled to a stop. “Guests?” he asked, voice strangled. He turned to face her in the cramped hall. She was close, too close, and made no move to step back.

  Neither did he.

  “Well, yes. We’ll want the bridal party to stay here, at least. For two nights at a minimum.”

  For a brief moment, Will was tempted to refuse. To throw Molly out on her ear and reclaim his quiet sanctuary from the world. But he reminded himself of how much he owed his brother. That Peter had got him through their tough childhood when their parents hadn’t cared. Peter had protected him far more than a kid should’ve had to.

  He had to extend that same debt to Molly now.

  Rather than refuse to house the bridal party as all his instincts screamed, Will drew in a deep breath. “We have ten bedrooms,” he said instead. “Nine, not including mine.”

  “Okay.” She made a note in her book.

  “How big is the bridal party?”

  “Undecided, right now. Mostly likely a maid of honor, a bridesmaid, you as the best man, one groomsman, and then parents from both sides.”

  “So we’ll have enough?”

  “I think so.” She made another note.

  “I haven’t used any of the rooms for a long time. They’ll need cleaning.”

  “I’ll arrange that. Is there anyone local?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps.” There was a small town a twenty minute drive away, but he didn’t go there except to buy groceries, and see his friend, Danny. Even then he mostly had food delivered, not wanting to interact with people more than necessary.

  She made another note. “Okay. I’ll look into that.”

  She was very efficient and professional about planning this wedding. For the first time, Will saw what might attract Peter to Molly. Though superficially Molly wasn’t like the usual women his brother dated, she certainly took some things seriously.

  Next, he took Molly to the mudroom, intending to take her outside. But the snow drifting from above outside the window made him pause. She’d left her jacket upstairs.