“I’m fine—”
“You’re wearing heels and you just got your nails done for the party. Don’t mess them up for this.” I, on the other hand, hadn’t even begun primping yet. Not that that meant a whole lot to me. I planned to just paint my own nails at home, take a shower and get dressed. If there was time, I might shave my legs. Might being the operative word. It’s December 23rd in New England and I have no date and no boyfriend. Let’s be real -- ain’t no one is seeing these legs until May.
Kyra rolled her eyes but handed the box over to me. “I swear, between you and Yvonne, I have my hands full as a personal, unpaid stylist. I’ll be over at six to help you pick out an outfit.”
Kyra always did this. She forced me to put on a fashion show of the same six dresses—the only dresses I owned—until she finally threw up her hands in frustration because nothing I had was good enough. Then, she’d run home, grab one of her dresses and by the time she came back, I was already dressed and ready to go in one of the outfits she had vetoed.
Even still, it was our routine, and it was kind of a fun tradition. I called out to Laura and Mr. Rutherford. “Do you want your trophies back until we return from break? Otherwise, I can keep them all together here and lock them in my office?”
Laura waved her hand at me. “You lock them up. They’re all going to the same place anyway, thanks to you.”
I left the library and made my way down the hall, past the lunchroom until I was at my classroom door. I fumbled with my keys in one hand while balancing the heavy box. Dang, fourteen trophies were heavy. Finally, I got my door open and flipped the light on with my toe. Thank you, fourteen years of ballet lessons and the flexibility that came with that.
I opened my metal filing cabinet and tucked the box inside. Through the window, snow drifted from the gray skies, dusting the football field with a blanket of white. We were expected to get two to three inches this weekend. The perfect amount to add a little ambiance to a romantic engagement party.
I blinked and for a quick moment. I thought I was seeing things. There, standing at the edge of the football field was Taylor Wilson. I squinted my eyes, pressing against the window as he turned, giving me a full view of his broad shoulders and light brown, full head of hair. Even beneath the winter coat, scarf, and jeans he wore, I could tell his body had only improved since high school. Those muscled pecs I had once run my hands up during our stage kiss looked twice as large now.
He glanced in my direction and my breath caught as his eyes landed right on me in the window. I put a hand up, giving a little wave.
He didn’t wave back. That’s when I saw her. Tiffany. Outside, she walked into view, her back to me. My eyes had played tricks on me; he wasn’t looking at me at all. It was Tiffany. Always Tiffany.
“Paige?” A deep voice said behind me and I jumped, startled. My cheeks warmed, and I wasn’t sure if I felt so foolish because of the way I jumped out of my skin or because I was caught spying on Taylor and Tiffany apparently reconnecting on the same dang football field where they had met years ago.
I spun around, finding Coach Bolton standing in my doorway. He smiled and held up his hands. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I pressed my palm to my sternum and chuckled. “Coach Bolton, hi.” I shook my head. “You didn’t.” He cocked a brow in my direction and I rolled my eyes. “Okay, you did. But it wasn’t your fault. I’m jumpy.”
He took a few steps into my room and it wasn’t until then, the mirroring of what was happening here in my classroom to out there on the football field that I realized mine and Taylor’s lives running on a parallel plane. He, the football star destined for greater things. Me, the high school theater kid who got a full scholarship to Northwestern. Only, true to form, mine didn’t pan out. I had to drop out once my mom got sick so I could come home to care for her, effectively putting me behind everyone else and losing my scholarship.
My eyes scanned my classroom, the walls papered with cast photos and scene images from my students’ plays, and I smiled. Despite my broken dream, I loved my job. It was fulfilling in all the best ways, even if I did miss the spotlight myself.
Coach Bolton blinked, his eyes a soft, smoldering gray like the smoke coming off a tamped-out fire. “Paige, how many times do I need to tell you to call me Dave?”
“Right. Sorry… Dave. I get so used to calling you Coach around the kids.” I shrugged. It was a weird habit that only other teachers and parents would understand.
He licked his full lips and took another step closer, running his hand through his dark hair. “You going to the party tonight?”
I nodded. “Of course. I can’t wait.”
He shifted his weight nervously. I didn’t think I’d ever seen Coach so nervous before. “Cool. You also staying at the inn?”
I shook my head no. “My house is literally right next door.” I shrugged. “That would be silly. Especially since Scott could rent any room I take to an actual paying customer.”
“Oh, right. Of course.”
“But since I live so close, it’ll practically be like I’m staying there, too. And I don’t have any tenants this weekend either.” I shrugged. Everyone knew Scott had helped me update my little cabin to rent as an Airbnb. It was the perfect home for it. We had started renting it from the original owners of the Maple Grove Inn when mom got sick because I needed to live with her. But ALS was a long disease that didn’t always progress rapidly. The small cabin with its connected in-law suite was perfect for us. I had my privacy and I could still keep a close eye on her when it was needed. When Scott eventually bought the inn from them, he also inherited my cabin and signed the deed over to me.
When mom passed, Scott helped me set up my little home for an Airbnb. And since the markets were so different, we’ve never really competed with each other in the short-term rental market—his business with the inn is a whole other beast than my little one room studio rental. If anything, he referred his overflow clients to me when it was too busy at the inn.
“Good,” Coach nodded. “I, um, I was hoping to get to know you a little better.” He tucked his hands into his pocket and delivered me a cute, shy smile. It was so weird to see this side of the hulking wrestling coach I’d never seen before. I’d never even looked at him in that way. But… I was starting to look. He was handsome. Muscular. Sweet. Smart.
So why wasn’t I more excited that he wanted to get to know me? I felt an emotional tug, knowing that Taylor was still right outside my window and I swallowed against my dry throat.
I nodded. “That’d be nice,” I said, ignoring the lazy yawn my libido was giving at the thought. I grabbed my tote bag and purse, slinging them over my shoulder. “So, uh… I’ll see you there.”
“Here,” he said, gently taking the tote bag of books and scripts from my arm. “I’ll walk you out.”
“Thank you,” I murmured.
Crap, Kyra might be right. I might actually need to shave my legs tonight.
2
Taylor
I glared at Tiffany as she made her way through the bleachers toward me. “Hey you,” she said.
I snorted, shaking my head and moving to walk past her. She grabbed my elbow, stopping me mid step. “Tay, wait.”
“Don’t,” I said. My voice was thick with warning. Over ten years, and I still couldn’t talk to her — couldn’t forgive her. It might seem childish. Like a girl cheating on you should be something you shrug off once you turn thirty. But what if she had cheated on you with ten different guys from your varsity team? Or if one of the men she was continuously cheating on you with was your own fucking father? Was I supposed to just move on from that? My dad had managed to betray me in every way possible… this was only the icing on the cake.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “What do you want me to say? I’ve apologized so many times. I was young and stupid.”
I nodded. “Yep. Except… I was also young and stupid. And yet, I never, ever would have done that
to you. Or anyone.” I took another step, my boots crunching against the frosted grass. Each blade was encased in an icy cover that shattered beneath my feet. I stopped myself this time as I heard her quiet sniffling behind me and I winced. I could never stand the sight or sound of a woman crying. I sighed and turned back to her. I wasn’t the same brokenhearted guy from senior year. Sure, I didn’t want to be friends or anything, but we were adults. It was time for us both to move on. “Tiff, that day I walked in on you and my father, it set off a chain of events—no, not events… confessions from my dad and all my so-called friends that you had cheated on me with, that irrevocably changed my life.” She peered up at me, moisture spilling over her big, green eyes. I gave a humorless laugh, looking up to the cloudy sky. “And my dad is a bastard. I have no doubt he took advantage of you, even though you were legal and eighteen.” Eighteen. The magical age where society deems you an adult, even though most of us still had no clue what the fuck we were doing at that age.
She blinked and nibbled her bottom lip causing some of the berry colored gloss to slide across her front tooth. “But…you still can’t forgive me? After all this time?”
I sighed. Could I? It had been years since I stepped foot in Maple Grove. And it was days before Christmas. If I was ever going to make amends, now would be the time, right? I swallowed. “Sure, Tiff,” I managed to say. “I forgive you.” Even though I said the words, I didn’t feel them in my heart. I wasn’t actually sure if I forgave her or not, but maybe that didn’t matter. She looked so sad. And I hated causing anyone that kind of sadness, even someone who caused me so much pain.
She smiled, her wet eyes now sultry and lust-filled. “Yeah?” She took a step closer. “You’re all I’ve thought about for twelve years, Tay,” she said, wrapping her arms around my neck and tilted her chin, lips parted.
I grunted, pushing her to arm’s length just before her lips grazed mine. “What the fuck, Tiffany?”
Her eyes darted wildly between mine. “What’s your problem? You were giving me all the signals.”
I let loose a bitter laugh and shook my head. “Signals? What fucking signals? The fact that I was about to walk away from you before I pitied you enough to forgive you?”
“Pity?” she sneered. “Oh, sweetie. No one pities me.”
My gaze dipped to her left ring finger, which was adorned with a big diamond and a wedding band. I’d heard she had gotten married a few years ago and I remember feeling sorry for the poor bastard. But just a few moments ago? I thought she might have in fact grown up and grown out of her bullshit.
I snorted, shook my head, and turned to leave. All I had wanted was a few minutes of peace on the football field that had started it all for me. But Tiffany ruined that, too. She ruined damn near everything, didn’t she? I turned when I was a few feet away and called to her from where I stood. “So, when you said you were sorry, what you meant was that you were sorry you got caught, isn’t it?”
She folded her arms and grunted a puff of air past her berry lips. “I wanted us to be together. It was just too early for us. We needed to sow some oats.”
I pointed at her wedding band. “Is that still your excuse? What’ll you tell your husband someday when he catches you cheating? Because, Tiffany… he will catch you.” It’s just a matter of time.
I didn’t let her respond and stomped off toward the parking lot where my F450 was parked. At the edge of where grass met pavement, I froze. Paige Williams was about fifty feet from me, walking side by side with Dave Bolton.
Paige Williams. I gulped. I hadn’t seen her since senior year. My God, she looked as gorgeous as ever. My dick stirred against the denim of my jeans and I swallowed a groan. That kiss we shared in Guys and Dolls was unlike any I’d had in my life. Even still to this day. We had kissed dozens of times in rehearsals. But it always felt off. Until one day, Paige found me in the dressing rooms, stormed in and without a word, grabbed my face and planted one on me. I was stunned. So stunned I hadn’t even kissed her back. “There,” she said. “Can we stop being so freaking awkward now in our stage kisses?” Then she turned on her heels and walked quickly out of the dressing room.
I followed her out, grabbed at her wrist and pulled her into my body, wrapping her lips with mine and sliding my tongue just along the seam of her mouth. If she wanted a surprise kiss, then I sure as hell was going to give her one. I finished the kiss, her back nudged against the lockers and we both stood there, panting. Her lips were wet and swollen, her small breasts brushing my chest with each heaving breath, and I brushed a bit of her dark blonde hair out of her face. “There,” I had said. “If we’re going to kiss, at least give me a chance to kiss you back.”
Every show thereafter, our chemistry was on point.
No, not on point. On fire.
And now here she was, fifty feet from me and looking as gorgeous as ever. Her hair was the same dark shade of blonde and now dotted with snow that melted the moment it touched her head. And Dave’s shoulder brushed against hers with each step.
A lump lodged in my throat. Were they dating? Was she married? I couldn’t help but wonder why the hell she settled back here in Maple Grove? Last I heard, she had a full scholarship to Northwestern and was well on her way to an acting career. She and I were cited as the most likely to be famous.
I waited until they had passed by, gotten in their cars and left, all the while ignoring the burning jealousy in my gut. Then again, he put her into her car without so much as a peck on the cheek. Just a little wave as she backed out of her parking spot and turned left out of the lot.
I closed my eyes and as I heard Dave’s car engine start and the crunch of tire on gravel, I stepped out from beside the bush, walking over to my truck.
Even if they are dating… Dave was a nice enough guy. Sure, he was one of the guys on my team that Tiffany had cheated on me with. Not cool. But he was also the first guy to come confess to me. To apologize. He was the person who opened my eyes to who Tiffany really was.
Despite my anger at Tiffany, I did believe a lot of the betrayals were the result of teenagers being young and stupid. But Tiffany cheating on me that many times? With so many guys? That went beyond normal teenage hormone stupidity. That was pathological.
Paige could do a lot worse than Dave Bolton.
Then again, she could also do a lot better.
I arrived at the Maple Grove Inn with one lone duffel bag. I didn’t plan on being here any longer than fucking necessary. But Cam has been my best friend since grade school, along with Steve and Scott. I sure as hell couldn’t miss his wedding. Especially since I had missed his first wedding to Hannah. He always shrugged that off… the fact that I had missed his first wedding. But I could see his disappointment in me. Hell, he had lost just as much as I had here in Maple Grove. His dad had passed away when he was younger. His first wife died several years ago.
But the difference was that Cam hadn’t been left with nobody. My mom’s death and my dad’s… well, my dad’s choices had left me essentially with no parents. And unlike Cam, I didn’t have four siblings to lean on or to help me through my rough patch. Other than friends like Cam and Steve, I had no reason to come back to Maple Grove.
Until now. Just because I’d been a shit friend with Cam’s first marriage, didn’t mean I had to be one now. It was time to face my ghosts. The thought of seeing Scott had my stomach turning. My blood boiling. But the good news was, Steve had promised me Scott wasn’t going to be at the party. Seeing Tiffany today wasn’t his fault, obviously. It was my dumb fault. Thinking I could slip onto the football field without being noticed. I wonder if they still had that stupid shrine to me in the trophy case. Steve had snapped a picture of it back when they first put it together and sent it to me.
I entered the inn a little after four o’clock, the duffel bag slung over my shoulder and I smiled at the receptionist. She grinned widely back at me and I knew immediately she recognized me.
“Mr. Wilson,” she said, her eyes lighting up like
the Christmas Tree in the foyer. “It’s so lovely having you staying here with us.”
“Thank you,” I said, doing my best not to mumble. My mom always used to get on my case about that.
“Your room is all ready for you.”
I pulled out my credit card, handing it to her for incidentals, but she waved it away. “The room is on the house. Compliments of the Maple Grove Inn.”
I hesitated. This shit happened from time to time. Why local businesses thought celebrities and sports stars needed rooms and clothes comped was beyond me. I stretched out my hand once more. “That’s really nice, but I want to pay. I don’t give out endorsements ever, if that’s what your boss is after.”
She smiled, but still didn’t take my card. “We aren’t looking for any endorsements, I assure you.” She pointed to the wall behind her where there were several signed headshots from various movie stars. “We actually give really great tax breaks here in our little town to film sets, so we get a lot of celebrity guests. But,” she added, “few of which are our town hero. So, yours is comped.” She smiled widely and grabbed a key from behind her desk. “You can follow me this way.” She led me up three flights of stairs and down the hall to the very end, unlocking the door for me and holding the door open.
I had to hand it to them. This place looked incredible. So different than the creaky, old inn most of us used to get drunk behind in high school. It was the perfect spot back then, not well lit and almost always empty because no one wanted to visit our Podunk town. There was a creepy abandoned cabin in the back, set in front of the lake. The owners were also old as shit and nearly-deaf, so we could be as loud as we wanted and they never said anything. Who owns it now? I wondered as I stepped into the suite. The bathroom was off to my right and decorated in a with lots of white marble and copper accents. The room had hardwood floors and a lush area rug that brought a coziness to the space that otherwise would have been cold, particularly in the winter. The suite had a lounge area as well as a separated bedroom with a four-poster bed. A fire roared in the fireplace beside the lounge area.
Holiday Intercepted Page 2
