Her hands were shaking, and Perry didn’t know if it was adrenaline or the cold.
He lightly touched her elbow. “I could drive you home.” He did have a big SUV, after all.
Val obviously didn’t like that idea. She shook her head immediately. “Too dangerous. Conditions are deteriorating too fast for anyone to be on the road. Not you, not Sasha, not an Uber driver.”
Sasha let out a long, gut-wrenching sigh. “Yeah. Shit.”
“You can stay here,” Perry said. “I’m sure there’s an open room, isn’t there, Val? And if not, I could always sleep on the couch in the carriage house.”
Val nodded, seeming to think out loud. “Louise can stay in the extra room of the carriage house with me, and the love birds will be in the Jack Pine Room.”
“Who are the love birds?” Sasha asked.
“Karen and Andie. They’re newlyweds. Let’s see,” Valerie said. “The Boltons left a day early to miss the storm, so the Blue Spruce Room is open. We can put you there, Sasha, on the house of course, hon. Perry, I planned to give you the Red Cedar Room since it’s your favorite.”
Excitement rushed through Perry. In the Red Cedar Room, he’d only be separated by an en suite from Sasha. Which, actually, she might not be crazy about.
“We’d be sharing a bathroom,” he told Sasha, so she wouldn’t be surprised.
Her eyes got big. “Cozy.”
“Hey,” he whispered, trying to cut Valerie, his nosy sister, out of the conversation. “If that makes you uncomfortable, I understand. I can sleep on Valerie’s sofa.”
“Pshh. It’s fine, hot stuff. Told you I wasn’t shy.” This time Sasha reached for his arm, placing a reassuring hand on him. He couldn’t help but lean into her touch, and she watched his face without wavering, a flash of heat in her eyes.
Valerie cackled. “Okay, that tension is thick as fruitcake, just saying!”
Perry closed his eyes and prayed for the icy ground to open up and swallow him whole. Sometimes older sisters sucked.
Sasha snorted a laugh before stomping her feet, like she was trying to keep warm. Her shoes were shiny black pumps, and his brain split in two trying to decide if he loved the way they made her legs appear miles long or if he was worried about her toes and frostbite.
She must have followed his gaze, because she said, “Inappropriate footwear. Name of my memoir.”
“They look nice, at least.” They looked more than nice. Sexy.
“Cold, though.”
“I bet.”
“What do you think? You okay staying here until the blizzard passes?” he asked.
“That could be days, right? Wasn’t that the forecast? It wasn’t supposed to hit until tomorrow morning, though.”
“Weathermen are crooks,” Perry said with a smile. “Let’s get you inside. You’re trembling.” He retrieved her sex-toy bags, which scrambled his brain a bit with lust, before they walked inside together.
“I don’t have any extra clothes. Or a toothbrush.” She lifted an unsteady hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry. I feel so unprepared.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll loan you some comfy stuff,” Valerie said. “And we have any type of toiletry you’ll need. Lucky you got snowed in at a bed and breakfast. Hospitality is kind of my thing.”
Perry and Valerie led Sasha up the stairs to the Blue Spruce Room. When he opened the door for her, she stumbled back into him.
“Yikes.”
He peeked around her to see what had spooked her, but nothing was out of the ordinary.
“What’s wrong?” Valerie asked.
Sasha seemed to shake it off. “Oh, nothing. Wasn’t expecting it to be so … seasonal, that’s all.”
Valerie and Perry glanced at each other and laughed. Winterberry Inn had been in their family for three generations. It was known for its Christmas charm. During the other seasons, Valerie toned it down, but winter was in their blood, literally.
“You can blame our grandfather for that,” Perry said. “He set the precedent of a Christmas tree in every room back when party lines and rotary phones were a thing.”
Valerie squeezed Sasha’s shoulders gently. “I’m going to go grab you pajamas. Perry can show you around in the meantime.”
“Cool, cool, cool,” Sasha whispered under her breath. She rolled her bags into the Blue Spruce Room. “Ah, Christmas lights on the four-post bed. Neat. And berry swag around the window—okie dokie. I see there are glittery pinecones on my bedside table. That’s … something.”
“Oh my God. You hate Christmas!” Perry leaned against the doorjamb and grinned.
“I do not!” She whipped around and stared at him. “Okay. That’s a lie. I despise it. And it’s like Christmas afterbirth in this place.”
“Gross.”
“I agree.”
They smiled at each other before Perry had to shake himself. He could stare at her all night. She was gorgeous.
And also only interested in sex, which was not usually his cup of tea.
Wait. That came out wrong. He wasn’t bad at sex.
Correction—he didn’t think he was bad at sex. He’d never had complaints. He’d never had a one-night stand either and wasn’t sure if he’d excel in that arena. In fact, his recent career and love-life shakeups had made him doubt himself in more ways than one.
“Let me give you that tour.” He offered her his elbow.
She rolled her eyes and her grin widened, finally seeming to relax a little. Then she shucked off her green trench coat and threw it on top of the plaid bedspread.
“Lead the way, Mr. Winters.”
“Gladly, Miss …?”
“Holiday.”
“Ah, festive.”
“Shut up.” She tucked her hand into his elbow, a pleasant, warm pressure, and he led her out of the room.
“This whole hallway is guest rooms, as are the ones a floor up. I’m here.”
He pointed to his door as they passed it. They walked down the staircase, which was adorned with balsam fir garland and tasteful white twinkle lights. He loved the smell of the house at Christmas, loved the mix of greenery and lights and warmth.
Nostalgia from his childhood hit him in the chest. He’d missed this. Maybe coming home after his career had fallen apart in Topeka had been the right decision after all. A fresh start was exactly what he needed.
When they reached the foyer, he pointed to the basket of blankets. “If you want to sit on the front porch, feel free to take a blanket from here. I can’t imagine that’d be fun in the blizzard, though.”
They walked into the formal sitting room. This was his least favorite room. It was stuffy, even when covered in Christmas. Next was the breakfast room, which still had refreshments from the Staunchly Raunchy Book Club party.
“This is where Val and her chef serve breakfast every morning. But you can come in here anytime. There’s always baked goods.”
He picked up a leftover chocolate éclair, but as he moved it to his mouth, Sasha grabbed his hand and directed it to her mouth instead. His breath caught and his eyes were drawn to her lips as they wrapped around the pastry. She took a bite, never breaking eye contact.
“Fuck,” he hissed, his whole body firing with lust.
“What do we have here?” a woman said from the doorway, humor in her voice.
Andie Romero—biggest troublemaker in all the land. She was wearing a Christmas sweater with cats on it.
Perry closed his eyes, sad about the interruption, and Sasha turned away from them both, choking on a laugh, her mouth full.
Karen Romero, Andie’s wife, waltzed up next to Andie. Karen was a middle-aged, five-foot-nothing FBI intelligence analyst, who could command a room with nothing more than an arched brow. Perry wished he had her presence.
“They were canoodling,” Andie whispered.
“Were not,” Perry said like a five-year-old. He wished they’d been canoodling.
Sasha managed to swallow her mouthful of éclair around
her laughter before turning back toward the women. “Perry was very kindly showing me around, considering I’m stranded here.”
“At least you’re in the best of company,” Karen said, teasingly tossing her locs over her shoulder.
“Thank you, Karen.” Perry was touched she’d say that.
“I mean us.” Karen grinned at Sasha. “Come on. We’ll show you where the stingy Winters keep the wine.”
“It’s called a wine cellar. Not exactly a secret,” Perry said.
“Yeah, but most guests don’t get the security code. We’re special. Karen interrogated it out of Valerie,” Andie said. “Follow us, kiddos. Bring your éclair.”
Karen and Andie led them through the breakfast room into the hearth room. The fire had died down to glowing embers, making it cozy and warm. The Romeros didn’t stop to admire the charm. They grabbed Sasha’s hands and dragged her through the formal dining room—all decked out with boxwood wreaths, winterberries, and unlit candles—to the laundry room and the cellar door.
“The code is 1225,” Karen said. “Christmas.”
“Cute,” Sasha said. She reached back for the éclair Perry was holding, and he handed it over. She grinned.
The wine cellar wasn’t anything special, but the Romeros gasped in excitement and started talking a mile a minute.
“What type of wine do you like?” Perry asked Sasha, while their chaperones were distracted.
She shrugged and ran her finger over a dusty bottle. “Cheap and red. Maybe boxed.”
“Oh dear,” he said. “That will not do at all.”
“Are you a wine snob?” She lowered her voice. “I refuse to sleep with a wine snob.”
He pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m not a snob. I have taste. There’s a difference.” Though being newly unemployed had made his wine obsession a bit complicated, but that was what was wonderful about having a sister with a well-stocked cellar.
Andie appeared in front of them, a grin lighting up her expressive face. She was wearing black lipstick and looked like a total badass. “Hey, wine snob. You choose. You’ll know what’s too expensive. We don’t want to piss your sister off when we filch it.”
He watched as Sasha finished her chocolate éclair, her lips wrapping around the luscious dessert. He knew just the thing. Humming, he stepped over to the short, squatty bottles of port and late harvest zins.
The 2013 Venge Vineyard Late Harvest Zinfandel. Perfect.
Karen strolled over and nicked it from his hands. “A dessert wine when only one of us has had dessert.” She threw a glance over her shoulder at Sasha. “How fitting.”
“Let’s go back upstairs and have dessert, then, ladies.” Perry tried to send Karen his most winning smile, hoping to charm his favorite FBI analyst.
After a long beat of side-eye, Karen said, “I like where your mind’s at, kid.”
She took Andie by the hand, still holding the wine bottle, and directed them out of the cellar.
They reached the hearth room. Someone had set it back to rights from the Staunchly Raunchy Book Club, so there was no longer a circle of chairs. It was once again a cozy sitting area with the wood-burning fireplace as the centerpiece.
“Why don’t you all sit,” he said. “I’ll get us wine glasses and the desserts.”
“I’ll help,” Sasha said.
Perry gathered up four wine glasses and a corkscrew, and Sasha grabbed the platter of leftover desserts and a stack of small plates. There were chocolate éclairs, apple tarts, slices of German chocolate cake, chocolate-covered cherries, and lemon bars.
“God, who made all this? It looks amazing,” Sasha said.
“Probably Valerie. The inn has a chef, Eden, but Valerie was a pastry chef before taking over here, and she likes to flex those baking muscles every once in a while. Plus, the chocolate cake is our mother’s recipe.”
They slipped back into the hearth room and were met with quite the romantic display. Andie and Karen had cuddled up on a loveseat and were whispering with their heads together. Karen laughed at something Andie said in her ear, a secret, soft laugh that was completely at odds with her usual toughness. Then she lifted Andie’s fingers to her lips to kiss her knuckles.
“Sweet,” Perry said quietly.
Sasha smiled, but it was almost pained. Sad. “Yep. Very.”
“Oh, there you two are! Bring us the corkscrew, slowpoke,” Andie called to Perry from across the room.
Sasha dished out their desserts for them. Perry opened the wine and poured everyone generous helpings. He grabbed an éclair—Sasha had eaten his earlier—and settled down into a large, comfy wingback chair next to the fire. Sasha selected a few chocolate-covered cherries and a piece of German chocolate cake.
Perry couldn’t take his eyes off of her as she took her first bite of cake. She hummed happily, watching the fireplace, then took a sip of wine. The deep red of the wine against the berry-color of her lips made him dizzy and hot. He wanted her to love the wine. He wanted her to love the cake.
Hell, he just didn’t want her to be incredibly upset about being stuck here at his family’s legacy. Here with him.
She moaned. “Shit, this is good.”
Karen and Andie agreed, eating their desserts with relish.
They all sat in comfortable silence. A log rolled in the fireplace and split apart, causing crackles and a slight flare of flames. Karen pulled out her phone and fiddled with it for a few seconds. Then Christmas music floated from its speakers. A Bing Crosby classic.
Perry smiled. There was a blizzard outside, and his whole life was packed into cardboard boxes in the back of his SUV, and he hadn’t told his sister that he’d lost his job, but this—this right here, with Sasha and the Romeros and Bing Crosby—was perfection.
Sasha stood abruptly, like her cushy armchair was on fire. “I need to go.”
“Are you okay?” Perry started to stand, but she waved him down. She finished the rest of her wine in a couple gulps, which scandalized him.
“I should call my sister, let her know what happened. She’ll be worried.” She held up the empty dessert plate and wine glass, as if she’d forgotten they were in her hands. “Uh, I’ll go put these—”
“I’ll take them.” Perry gently removed them from her hold. “No worries.”
She nodded stiffly. “Thank you.” Then she was out of the room, her velvet dress swinging around her thighs.
“Someone’s allergic to Christmas music,” Karen quipped dryly. “Doesn’t take FBI training to see that.”
“She needs a little holiday loving, I bet,” Andie added.
Perry snorted. “Busybodies.” But he couldn’t stop watching the doorway Sasha had left through. What if she was freaked out about being here? What could he do to ease her mind, make her comfortable?
Karen snapped her fingers at him. “Loverboy, go find her. Make sure she’s okay.” She lowered her voice. “Get laid.”
He shook his head. “No, I’ll help you two clean up and—”
“We’ll do it,” Andie piped in. “Anyway, we want to make out, and you’re killing the mood.”
Now it was his turn to stand like his seat was on fire. “Fair enough.”
He didn’t actually think he’d find Sasha, especially if she’d retreated to her room, but he didn’t want to cramp Karen and Andie’s style. Both of them had demanding jobs—Karen a FBI analyst and Andie a bartender and PhD student—so maybe they were using their snowed-in status as an excuse for a romantic getaway.
This was a wonderful place for that. In fact, the inn was renowned for the romantic Winterberry Christmas Couples’ Soiree, but he’d never brought a woman to it. It was hard to be romantic at a B and B run by his own sister. As he reached the second-floor landing, movement in a nearby sitting room caught his eye. He peeked through the doorway. The room had no fewer than four small Christmas trees tucked into every available space, and in the corner, there was an old upright piano that was permanently out of key. These trees were strung
with red wooden beads and threaded popcorn. A model train set circled the largest pine.
Sasha was as still as an ice sculpture in front of the large window. She’d pulled aside the curtains, and the reflections of the Christmas lights in the glass cast a warm glow around her head, like a halo.
“Snow’s getting worse,” she said, without glancing back at him.
“Seems like it.”
“My sister said the news is calling it a snow-pocalypse. They always say that though, don’t they? Hope they’re exaggerating. I could be stranded here for days, if not.”
“That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? At the very least, there will be awesome desserts.”
She turned to him. He sat on the piano bench, facing her.
“There might be other perks as well,” she said softly, her eyes assessing.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yep.” She took a few steps until she was standing right in front of his legs.
He had to tip his head back to see her face. Their closeness, the sudden heat between their bodies, his exposed throat—it made his breath catch and hitch with longing. She ran a light fingertip over his Adam’s apple, and he swallowed thickly.
“Follow me, Perry.” She strode from the room, and he did what any person with half a brain would. He obeyed.
He caught up with her at the door to the Blue Spruce Room, where she grabbed his hand and pulled him inside but didn’t close the door behind them.
She let go of his hand and knelt in front of the red roller bags she’d deposited at the foot of her bed. What in the world was she doing?
She bent down and fiddled for a second before reappearing in front of him.
“Uh, thanks for helping me try to get up the hill today and for showing me around. And for the wine and chocolate. You’re very nice.”
“I’m pretty sure I wasn’t that helpful.”
“Still. You got wet and cold, and now you’ll probably catch that chill.” She pulled a long, rectangular box from behind her back. “Here. Take this. On the house. As thanks.”
“Oh, you don’t need to do that. You don’t owe me anything,” he said but instinctually took the box when she handed it over.
Stocking Stuffers Page 3