Wrapped Up In You (A Mystic Island Christmas)

by Stephanie Rowe

  Those eyes. Shit. He knew them.

  "It's snowing," she said, her voice filled with awe as she looked up.

  Cole didn't bother to check out the sky. Instead, he watched the tiny snowflakes dotting her dark hair, settling on her shoulders. It was snowing hard already, the flakes whipping horizontally from the wind. He didn't want to look up. He just wanted to look at her.

  The ferry dropped suddenly, and she yelped, grabbing his arm as they both slid across the now-damp deck. Even his boots weren't going to be able to hold once the deck got saturated, not in this kind of storm. "We have to go inside."

  She met his gaze, searching his face, as if she were waiting for something else from him.

  "What?" he asked. He knew she wanted something from him, but he had no idea what it was.

  Disappointment flashed across her face, as if he'd somehow let her down. "Nothing," she said with a shrug he didn't believe. "I just don't want to go in."

  "I don't either." Once they went inside, the moment would be over. He'd be besieged by people he'd once known, people who would treat him like the person he'd once been. He'd be swept away from Kate, this kiss, and the intimacy they'd found on this deck. He wanted to be here, outside, with Kate, where nothing he was or had ever done mattered. He wanted to know what it was she'd wanted from him, that he hadn't given her.

  For a long moment, they stared at each other, fighting for balance in the rising storm. He wanted to stay on the deck with her forever. He wanted to kiss her again and again, until he ferreted out her secrets, or got her out of his system. Either one would work. Going inside now left too much unfinished...which was maybe a good thing.

  He wasn't here for a woman, and he wasn't here to get involved.

  He was here to cut the last tie to his past, and then never look back. Kate Smith, whoever she was, was not part of that.

  It was time to go inside, for the last time, so that he could finally leave it all behind forever.

  But he didn't want to go.

  He wanted to hold onto this moment forever.

  But he already knew that moments like this one didn't last. It was over before it had even begun.

  * * *

  Willow dragged her suitcases over the threshold of the Stone House Cottage, the bed and breakfast she'd made reservations at two weeks ago, when she'd made her desperate decision to run away from her life for Christmas. She was shivering from her short walk from her rental car to the front door. The rear wheel drive vehicle had barely made it up the snow-coated hill to the Stone House, and she was tired, cold, and yes, a little cranky about the fact that Cole hadn't remembered her.

  Yes, they'd been fifteen, and it had been one magical kiss in the moonlight years ago, but still. She'd remembered that kiss. That was why she'd come back. Not for Cole, but because that night with him was the only night she'd really felt alive in her life, and she was terrified that her heart was turning to stone with each passing day.

  The kiss with Cole on the ferry had been magical, but she'd been almost relieved when he'd been swept away by the local folks once they went into the lounge, welcoming him back as if he were a long lost hero. She didn't want to get involved with him, or anyone. It was too risky. She just wanted to find her spirit again, by herself, with just the joy of strangers helping, strangers who knew nothing about her and had no interest in trying to ferret out all her secrets for the world to see.

  "Welcome to Stone House Cottage, and Merry Christmas!" A cheerful woman with gray hair in a bun, a bright red holiday sweater, and blue jeans walked down the hallway, wiping her hands on an apron decorated with Christmas ornaments and holly. She beamed at Willow, her twinkling blue eyes making Willow want to smile back. "Let me help you with your bags!"

  The woman hurried over and grabbed one of Willow's suitcases, dragging it into the foyer. Willow followed her inside, then paused, staring in awe at the lobby of the inn. A huge Christmas tree took up an entire corner, decorated with shiny ornaments and real candles. Christmas lights were strung across the walls, Santas were placed on every table, and there were even bright red stockings hung by a beautiful stone chimney. Christmas music was playing in the background, and the most delicious scents of fresh bread and pumpkin pie were wafting in from the kitchen. "It's beautiful," she breathed, all the tension fading from her body. It had been the right decision to come to the island. This was exactly what she'd wanted.

  The woman smiled. "We do Christmas right on Mystic Island," she said. "Some of our guests have been coming here for three generations, because there's no place that does Christmas the way we do." She set the suitcase down and held out her hand. "My name's Rosie Wilson. You must be Elizabeth Jespersen, right?"

  Willow shook her hand, grinning widely. Rosie's enthusiasm was contagious, a welcome change from Cole's rejection of the island's magic "No, I'm Will—." She cut herself off. "I mean I'm Kate Smith."

  Rosie's brows knit. "Kate Smith?" she repeated. "Is the reservation under your name? Because I don't recall that name. Elizabeth Jespersen is the only one who hasn't checked in yet."

  Sudden foreboding pressed at Willow. "I just made it two weeks ago."

  "Two weeks ago?" Rosie's brows knitted even further. "We've been fully booked since last January. You couldn't have made it two weeks ago..." Suddenly her face cleared. "Oh! You booked for next Christmas, right?"

  "What?" Willow's stomach dropped. "Next Christmas? No, this Christmas. Today."

  Rosie walked over to the front desk and began typing on the computer. "No, see? Right there." She turned the monitor so Willow could see it. Sure enough, beside her name was a reservation for exactly one year away.

  "Oh." Willow's heart sank. "I didn't mean for next year. I meant this year. There has been a misunderstanding. Do you have anything? I don't need anything fancy."

  Rosie clucked gently, giving Willow a look of sympathy. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart, but we're completely booked, with a full waiting list. Everyone in town is at maximum occupancy. We always are at this time of year."

  "You mean...there's nowhere to stay? At all?" As she said it, she heard the blast of the ferry horn as it headed back to the mainland, no doubt hurrying to beat the storm. "Surely there must be something available somewhere in town? I mean, I can't leave, right?"

  "No, you can't." Rosie sighed, rubbing her chin. "The only thing I can think of is that the Ocean Heights Inn might have space. It's been closed for the last six months, and they weren't planning on being open this season, but the owner is back in town now, so maybe you could barter a room for yourself."

  "Really?" Hope leapt through Willow. "Do you have their number?"

  "Sure." Rosie picked up a rotary phone and dialed. She listened, then hung up. "The answering machine is still on, and it's full, so clearly the messages haven't been checked. You'll have to go over and talk your way in."

  "Okay, great. No problem." She was desperate. Surely in a town like this, they wouldn't turn her away, right? Someone would let her bunk down somewhere. "Which way is it?"

  "It's at the north end of the island," Rosie said. She eyed Willow skeptically. "Do you have a good car?"

  "Um..." She tried to remember what kind of rental she had. "It has rear wheel drive."

  "Well, if you don't have at least front wheel drive, you'll never make it there if you wait much longer with the snow coming down the way it is." Rosie walked around the table and picked up Willow's bag, giving her a thoughtful look. "You know, I don't think it's a fluke that you came here without reservations and nowhere to stay."

  Willow wearily picked up her bag and followed Rosie back outdoors into the biting wind. She shivered when the wind hit her, whipping the breath right out of her lungs. "Why is that?"

  "The island chooses people. If it called you here, it had a reason. If you had waited to get a reservation, you would never have come, because you couldn't have gotten one." Rosie opened Kate's rear door and tossed the heavy bag in as if it weighed nothing.

  Willow's heart
skipped. "You think it's chosen me?" She remembered Cole's story about the island's legend. She'd come here to find herself again. Was she destined to find it?

  Rosie eyed her. "Maybe. Either that, or you just bought yourself a long week of sleeping in the back of that car and living off canned beans. You'll know soon enough."

  Willow blinked. "Canned beans?" Surely Rosie was kidding. "I'll find a place to stay, even if the Ocean Heights Inn won't take me."

  Rosie slammed the car door shut. "No, you won't. There's not a spare bed in town. It's your only option." She grimaced. "And I'll be honest, sweetheart, I don't think it's a very good one. Let's hope the island has a plan for you, because you're going to need some help."

  Chapter 4

  HE DIDN'T WANT to be here.

  Not for a single minute.

  Cole stood grimly in the front hall of the house he'd grown up in. The old building that had once been full of warmth, people, and history now stood stark and empty, with a coating of dust on everything. He remembered each piece of furniture, and even the paintings were exactly the same as when he'd left. It was as if time had stood still inside the house, without even a whisper of change...except that it was now eerily empty.

  The only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room, the clock he'd been responsible for winding once a week. How was it still going?

  Hell, he didn't want to be here for a minute, let alone a week.

  Grimly, he set his bags down. They hit the hardwood floors with a thud. He remembered polishing those floors with a wax his dad had made from goat's milk and honey from their own backyard. Now, they were dusty and dull, so far from the standard his dad would ever have allowed.

  He took a deep breath at the thought of his father. There was nothing he could do now. He was gone, and this was Cole's legacy to dispose of.

  The windows rattled from the wind as Cole walked further into the house, flipping on lights as he went. Most of the light bulbs were still working, casting a sleepy glow into the shadows, and over the couches that someone had covered with sheets to keep them clean. It looked like a mausoleum, and felt like one, too. This wasn't his home anymore. It was just an empty building that meant nothing.

  His job this week was to get it in shape to put on the market, to turn it into something a stranger would want. Hell, he'd give the damn thing away if he had to. He just wanted out—

  A knock sounded at the door, and he grimaced. His brief stop in the grocery store for enough supplies to last the storm had put him over the edge. Too many questions about where he'd been and why he was back. Too many people who wanted to talk about his mom's funeral six months ago. He wasn't interested in socializing. His plan was to stay low profile, clean up the house, and then get out. He didn't even know what to say to people anymore. He'd grown up here, but now he felt like a stranger.

  Ignoring the person at the door, he continued to head back toward the kitchen, when his visitor knocked again. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

  He jerked to a stop and spun around, adrenaline racing through him. He recognized that voice. Kate Smith was at his door.

  Despite his best intentions to be antisocial, he couldn't help the surge of anticipation. Kissing her had rocked him on his heels, and he was intrigued by her. She wasn't a threat to his need to stay disconnected from the island, because she had nothing to do with the past he was trying to leave behind, or the present that he wasn't all that enthralled with either. She brought her own sphere of existence, and that was exactly what he was in the mood for.

  She knocked again, louder this time, and he heard her muttering under her breath about the cold. He couldn't help the grin that spread over his face as he strode toward the door. He pulled it open, just as she started to knock again, resulting in a fist to his chest. He caught her hand in his, grinning at her startled expression.

  "Oh, sorry." She jumped back, her eyes widening when she saw him. "Cole? You live here?"

  "Yeah." He frowned at her obvious surprise. She hadn't tracked him down on purpose?

  "Is this the Ocean Heights Inn?"

  She was asking about the inn? He narrowed his eyes. "Yes, it is." She couldn't have a reservation, because they'd all been cancelled. The day he'd buried his mother, he'd had his admin cancel all the reservations, even the ones who'd been coming for decades. They could take a year off. He'd felt a little guilty at shutting down the inn, but he'd decided it would be good for them to learn that this coastal Maine island wasn't all that the world had to offer. "It's not open for business, though."

  "Yes, I heard." She lifted her chin resolutely. "There was a mistake in my reservations at the Stone Cottage. I don't have a room, and the ferry doesn't come back for a week. I need a bed. I don't care if it's clean or fancy, I just need a place to sleep."

  His eyebrows went up, and anticipation rolled through him. "You want to stay at my inn for the week?"

  "Yes. I'm desperate. Please? I'll pay whatever you want. I…I have money."

  The slight hesitation in her last sentence made him realize that she hadn't wanted to admit she had money. Whoever she was, she was hiding from something, or someone, from a life she wanted to escape during the season when most people sought out their loved ones.

  He knew about walking away from his life. He was here to sell the inn, but he was also here because he hadn't wanted to spend Christmas in New York City, going to all the parties he'd been shortlisted for. He studied her more closely, noticing the desperation in her eyes, the lines of stress around her mouth. Something inside him softened, something that hadn't been soft in a very long time. He didn't want to be with others this Christmas, but Kate was different. She made him want to care, and it had been a long time since he'd cared about anything.

  He wanted her to stay.

  Slowly, he stepped back and held the door open for her. "It's not in shape for guests, but if you can handle dust and cobwebs, you can have your pick of the rooms."

  Her face lit up. "Really? Oh, wow, you're the best!" She gave him an impulsive, genuine hug, making him feel like more of a good guy than he'd felt in a very long time...and it felt good.

  Damn good.

  * * *

  Willow swallowed with sudden nervousness as Cole stepped back, gesturing for her to come inside his inn. Being wrapped up in his arms on the ferry deck had been a moment of reckless abandon and intimacy in a winter storm, a moment of connection that had no future. On the ferry, he was a shadowy figure who'd provided warmth and security. Now, he was simply a man. His coat was off, revealing a navy blue fleece that was unzipped to reveal the collar of a light blue oxford. His jeans were dark, in perfect condition, but they hugged his lean hips with the intimacy of a woman. There was a faint hint of whisker stubble along his jaw, and his eyes were dark brown, studying her so intently she felt as if he were peering right into her soul.

  He was pure male, and she was walking into his territory, inviting herself into his lair. On the ferry, it had been neutral territory, a fantasy buffeted by the storm and the waves. Walking into his inn to stay there was so different. Intimate. Being with him was no longer simply an elusive snapshot in time. It was reality, a moment that would stretch into a night, and a morning, and days. How long could she hide who she was under that kind of scrutiny and closeness?

  She glanced at her car, suddenly wishing she could jump in and drive back to the life she'd been so quick to run away from, but her rental was already covered in a sheet of snow. Plus, she doubted it would handle all that well across the stretch of Atlantic Ocean that separated Mystic Island from the mainland.

  "I'll get your bags," he said, his voice rolling through her. "Come inside. You're shivering."

  "It's okay." She turned toward her car, eager for an excuse not to take that step into his house. "I can get my stuff—"

  "I'm on it." He slipped past her, his shoulder brushing against hers before he vaulted down the slippery steps with ease. He reached her car in a few easy strides, paused for a moment to
flip her windshield wipers up so they weren't touching the glass, then grabbed her luggage, and strode back inside. He raised his eyes at her as he passed, holding the door open with his foot to keep it from swinging shut. "You coming inside, or what?"

  "Yes, of course." She peered past him into the foyer. "Is there anyone else here?"

  He grinned, a mischievous smile that made her heart skip. He was handsome when he was being serious, but his smile took her breath away. "No. Just me. Why? Are you afraid?"

  She lifted her chin, giving him a haughty look. "Of course not. Why would I be afraid of you?"

  "Because you already know what a great kisser I am." His smile faded. "I have to be honest with you, Kate. Kissing you was incredible. If you stay here, you need to know that it's going to be on my mind."

  Heat flushed her cheeks. "Are you saying I'm not safe with you?"

  "No. You're safe. I'd never do anything to make you uncomfortable." His gaze dropped to her mouth, and then back up. "But I'm not a saint. I'm not going to be able to forget that kiss."

  Her heart began to race. "You think you won't forget a kiss with me?"

  "I know I won't."

  "Don't make promises you can't keep." When his eyebrows went up, she realized she might have pushed it a little far. It wasn't as if she wanted him to remember what had happened between them so long ago, because if he remembered, then things would change. She didn't want them to change. She wanted to be anonymous.

  "I never do." He leaned back against the door, holding it open with his body. "You still want to stay here? Just you and me, and a great kiss that neither of us is going to forget any time soon."

  A part of her wished that the inn was busy so there was a buffer between her and Cole, with his mesmerizing kisses and his intense stare. Despite his warning, she felt completely safe with him. He'd kept her safe many years ago, and he'd been her protector on the ferry. She trusted him in a way she didn't trust anyone else in her life, and that was a great gift. Her whole body began to relax as the reality of her situation settled on her. Since no one else was at the inn, she didn't have to worry about pretenses, or being identified. Cole clearly didn't recognize her, so she could just drop all façades, venture out into town when she wanted to, and retreat back to the inn when she needed to escape.