Their Yuletide Promise

by Stacy Connelly

  Eric was the one who’d been in the wrong, and it was past time she stopped blaming herself. She’d never set out to bury herself in work as some kind of penance or punishment. At first, she’d focused on building her savings back up after paying her parents back for the nonwedding, as if erasing the deficit in her bank account would somehow erase the hole in her heart.

  But her aunt was right. She’d allowed her professional life to take over. Her career had become her refuge and her excuse—for not having fun, for not having time for friends and family...

  The fourth F in her plan—falling in love—hovered around her, floating on the edges of her subconscious like the star-shaped ornaments gleaming in her peripheral vision. Almost close enough for her to reach out and grab the elusive promise of a wish come true, but far enough away that she could turn ever so slightly and lose sight of it altogether.

  It isn’t real, Evie reminded herself, despite the pressure in her chest that made it feel as if her heart was expanding, pushing the boundaries and coming dangerously close to bursting.

  But maybe she wanted it to be real. Just for a little while. Like the twinkle lights and the decorations. Something she could enjoy for the moment, even though she knew it could never last.

  Griffin wrapped his fingers around her wrist. Her too-full heart pounded like crazy as he lifted the decadent treat to his mouth and savored the bite. When he closed his lips around her thumb and licked a small smear from her skin, it was all Evie could do not to melt like the chocolate on his tongue.

  “Griffin.” His name caught in her dry throat, her pulse pounding in her ears so loudly she could barely hear the sound of her own voice or the familiar chime of...

  Wedding bells?

  “I, um, that’s Rory.” She’d programmed in the ringtone for her cousin as a joke, but it was hard to remember she was too smart, too focused, too logical to fall in love, when Griffin James could make her forget everything with a look, a touch, a kiss...

  Maybe it’s time to make some new memories.

  And maybe forgetting wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

  “For someone who makes her living bringing couples together, your cousin could have better timing,” Griffin said wryly. But he gave her hand a final squeeze and stepped back, allowing them both to take a much-needed breath.

  With her skin still tingling from his kiss, Evie reached into her purse for her cell. “Hey, Rory.” She cringed at the overly bright sound of her voice and tried to tone it down as she asked, “How’s everything going?”

  “It’s been great so far and the booth is—well, it’s amazing. Jamison really outdid himself, but I got a call from the babysitter who is watching Hannah. Her grandmother’s been taken to the hospital. I’d try to find another sitter, but everyone’s already busy. I don’t suppose you could take over the booth for the rest of the night?”

  Typically Rory and Trisha handled promotions for the hotel. Both women excelled at engaging potential guests face-to-face, allowing Evie to disappear into the woodwork of her small office.

  But she hated the idea of not pulling her own weight and with this emergency situation, she immediately said, “I’m already here and will head that way now.”

  “Thanks for this, Evie. I really appreciate it. And, well, about the booth. I should probably tell you...”

  “You can fill me in when I get there,” Evie reassured her cousin. “I’ll be over in a minute.”

  “Everything okay?” Griffin asked as he walked back over after throwing the lollipop stick away in a nearby trash can.

  Evie had never had a problem putting work first, but she couldn’t deny her disappointment as she gave a quick explanation and said, “Sorry to have to cut the night short.”

  “Who says we have to?”

  “Oh, come on. You don’t want to hang out at a booth, handing out Hillcrest House brochures the rest of the night.”

  “Maybe I want to hang out with you whatever you’re doing.” Before she could offer another protest, he said, “I’ll grab us something to drink and meet you over there.”

  Watching Griffin walk away, Evie couldn’t make her own feet move. A group of women heading in the opposite direction slowed, heedless of holding up the foot traffic behind them, to check him out. Evie couldn’t blame them. He was easily the most breathtaking man she’d ever seen. She also couldn’t stop the possessive feeling of pride that, for now at least, he was hers.

  Something Griffin seemed to confirm when he glanced back, as if knowing all along she’d still be waiting, still be watching. He flashed a sexy smile and a wink over his shoulder.

  Shaking her head at her own foolishness, Evie hurried off toward the square only to do some traffic stopping of her own. The heart of downtown was a winter wonderland of red and green booths, tables draped with bright bunting and thousands of twinkle lights glittering in the trees. She didn’t have to look too closely or try to guess which of the stands belonged to Hillcrest House. There, front and center, amid the typical and somewhat boring pop-up tents and shade structures, was a perfect miniature replica of Hillcrest’s own gazebo, decked out with garlands and mistletoe and Christmas lights.

  Standing on the front steps, Rory caught sight of Evie and offered a quick wave before rushing over. “Jamison did this. Can you believe it?” she asked, referring to her fiancé. “When he told me he wanted to work on a booth for the event, I had no idea he was going to do something like this. He wanted it to be a surprise, so surprise!”

  Rory’s smile faded, though, as she added, “I’m sorry, Evie—”

  “Why?” Evie quickly cut off the apology. “This is—amazing. And I’m guessing Hannah is thrilled to have a new playhouse.”

  Rory nodded. “She can’t wait for Jamison to reassemble it in the backyard. She’d already promised to invite all her stuffed animals to a tea party.” Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, she said, “I wanted to warn you...”

  “Warn me? Good grief, Rory, it’s a tiny gazebo, not a haunted mansion.” A place where a four-year-old would soon be serving imaginary tea. If that wasn’t enough to dispel Evie’s ghosts, then she could think of one thing that would.

  I kissed Griffin James for the first time on the steps of Hillcrest’s gazebo.

  But it was more than that. More than a kiss. It was the step she’d taken into the present, maybe even a step toward the future. Eric’s betrayal and her feelings of guilt and blame were part of the past. By encouraging her to take that step, to take that kiss, Griffin had shown her how to take control. A new memory could go a long way toward erasing an old one.

  “You’re sure you’re okay with this? I mean, I honestly didn’t think you’d even set foot in the gazebo after you broke up with Eric.”

  Rory would have been right...right up until the day before. But it was still with a sense of accomplishment that Evie said, “Well, you’re wrong. I have a lot of good memories about that gazebo.” Mostly old, but some new enough to make her cheeks heat under her cousin’s watchful eye.

  Turning her attention to the booth, Evie reached out and trailed her hand over the carved railing. “And this is amazing.” Despite the sting of tears at the back of her throat, she turned to her cousin with a smile. “It’s like Jamison is announcing to everyone who sees it how much he loves you.”

  “Oh, Evie.” Her cousin blinked back tears of her own. “That’s such a beautiful thing to say. And I’m so...glad that you can be happy for us.”

  “You and Jamison are perfect for each other.” Before either of them could really start crying, she added, “And what can I say? It must be the Christmas spirit bringing out the best in me.”

  Rory laughed. “I think someone other than jolly Saint Nick might be responsible.” She tilted her head, and Evie glanced over her shoulder in time to see Griffin approach with two steaming mugs.

  “Thought you could use somethi
ng to warm you up.” Flashing a wink, he added, “And I brought hot chocolate, too.”

  “Griffin.” Rory greeted him with a friendlier smile than Evie might have expected as she accepted the warm mug and breathed in the chocolate-scented steam.

  “How has the turnout been so far?” he asked.

  “It’s been amazing,” her cousin gushed. “I’m sure this is going to be a yearly event from now on. I’ve booked five appointments for couples who want to tour Hillcrest House and we already have fifty people signed up for our newsletter. Fifty more and we’ll hit our goal!”

  The goal had been Evie’s idea and had seemed doable at the time, but now that she was the one tasked with getting those final names, she wished she’d aimed a little lower.

  “What do you think, Evie?” Griffin asked. “Maybe we should sign up for that tour.”

  Rory’s jaw dropped. Evie couldn’t bring herself to look at Griffin, but he didn’t let that stop him. He pressed a kiss against her temple, and her body instantly turned toward his. And while she knew she shouldn’t, with her cousin staring at them, her eyes as wide as brilliant blue spotlights, Evie couldn’t resist saying, “I hardly think there’s reason for a tour. You know I’d never get married anywhere other than Hillcrest.”

  “Then there you have it,” Griffin murmured in agreement. “Hillcrest House it is.”

  * * *

  By the end of the evening, both the number of email addresses and the couples signed up to tour the hotel as a potential wedding venue had far exceeded Evie’s quotas. It was all thanks to Griffin. Not that that was any surprise. People—and not just women—loved him.

  For Evie, speaking with strangers, even making small talk, often made her feel self-conscious and awkward and far too likely to say the wrong thing. But every time she tried to ease away, Griffin pulled her back to the center of the conversation. He encouraged her to discuss the hotel’s past with a man who was a retired history professor. To talk about the rose garden with the woman who boasted an I Heart Flowers pin on her floral denim jacket. To inform couples who wanted their wedding to take place outdoors when the grounds and weather were at their best. To promise longed-for solitude during the off-season to a man looking for a secluded retreat to finish his first novel.

  And instead of simply taking one of their brochures with half-hearted interest, more and more people had stayed longer, asking questions, signing up for the mailing list and even using the gazebo as a backdrop for photographs.

  The energy and excitement surrounding the event created more of a buzz inside Evie than if she’d visited every wine tasting booth in the square. And the way Griffin looked at her—a combination of pleasure and pride—had her head spinning in a way that no fruit of the vine ever could.

  “So, is it true?” a young woman asked before glancing at the man by her side with a teasing smile. “Is Hillcrest House really magic?”

  Evie’s heart sank a little at the woman’s excitement and expectation. Tailoring facts and figures to suit a potential guest’s interest was one thing. Weaving tales about magic and the promise of happily-ever-after, that was something else. “Hillcrest House is a gorgeous place for a wedding,” she said, gesturing toward the tablet and the streaming slideshow set up on the sign-up table. “My cousin Rory is the wedding coordinator, and the work she does is—” do not say magic, do not say magic, do not say magic “—remarkable,” she finished.

  The brunette’s face fell ever so slightly, and Evie rushed to try and recapture her interest. She held out the clipboard and pen. “If you’d like to sign up, my cousin can arrange a tour for you.”

  Stepping closer to Evie’s side, Griffin wrapped an arm around her waist. “This is an amazing replica, but it’s nothing compared to the real gazebo. It’s a special place to us, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

  “It is,” she admitted, not having to embellish the truth at all. The warmth in his smile was all the encouragement she needed to add, “It’s where I kissed you for the first time.”

  “And Hillcrest House is where we met.”

  “I knew it!” the woman practically crowed. “I knew it was magic.”

  “That is something you’ll have to see for yourself,” Griffin advised, half challenging, half teasing as he tapped the pen on the clipboard before handing it to the couple to add their names to the growing list.

  “You know, you didn’t have to stay the whole time,” Evie said at the end of the night. Jamison had arranged for the gazebo to be taken down in the morning, so as the clock struck nine, Evie and Griffin were free to go.

  “I wouldn’t have missed it because then I would have missed this.”

  “Missed—”

  Griffin pointed toward a stage at the center of the square as the lead singer repeated, “Sorry, folks, this is our curtain call. Find someone special for the last dance.”

  Griffin held out his hand, and as the opening strains of a rock ballad filled the night air, she couldn’t resist sliding her palm into his. She balked, but only for a brief second, as he led her up the gazebo steps. No ghosts, she reminded herself. Not tonight.

  Evie had never been one to feel the need to fill a silence with inane conversation, but she needed some kind of distraction from the crazy pounding going on inside her chest. Maybe if she opened her mouth to talk, she’d remember how to breathe, because at the moment she felt light-headed enough to wonder if she wasn’t about to pass out...

  “You were amazing,” she said. “With the booth and all, I mean.”

  “I was thinking the same thing about you. You know everything about Hillcrest House from the ground up.”

  “Most people usually aren’t all that interested.”

  “Once people see how passionate you are, they’re more likely to take an interest.”

  Evie didn’t think her passions were something she should be thinking about, not when Griffin was holding her close, their bodies swaying in time with the music.

  “Still...I suppose it’s a good thing we’ll have a lawyer in the family soon,” she said.

  Griffin’s lips quirked in a bemused grin. “Why is that?”

  “With all your talk about the hotel’s magic, we’ll be lucky if we don’t get sued for false advertising when our guests fail to find elves or fairies or whatever it is they’re hoping for.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re safe. People who believe in magic will always find it. The ones who don’t will never bother to look.”

  His words made perfect sense. Magic wasn’t real. It was a simple matter of people seeing what they wanted to see. So why did the idea of never finding magic still seem so...sad?

  “Evie.” She looked up at his husky murmur. The awareness, the understanding in his expression, had a part of her wanting to run away as fast as she could. Another part of her never wanted to leave the certainty of the strong arms wrapped around her. “Close your eyes,” he urged.

  At her questioning glance, he added, “Some things don’t have to be seen to be believed. Some things you just have to feel.”

  Evie’s eyelids drifted shut the moment his lips touched hers. His mouth swallowed her quick gasp, stealing the oxygen from her lungs, but who needed air when there was this? When there was music and laughter and dancing beneath the stars?

  It was amazing. It was incredible. It was...magic.

  Chapter Eleven

  Hours later, Evie lay in bed, wide-awake and staring up at the darkened ceiling.

  Close your eyes.

  Griffin’s murmur whispered through her thoughts, but total darkness made the memories that much more potent and she was once again in Griffin’s arms. She could hear that husky voice in her ear, breathe in the spicy, masculine scent of his cologne, feel the warmth of his hand at her waist, the brush of his thighs against her own...

  Her frustrated cry seemed to echo in the silence of her bedroom as she ki
cked off the covers. Maybe a midnight snack would help. She didn’t need to raid the cottage’s tiny kitchen to know her own refrigerator was practically empty. She ate most of her meals at her desk, courtesy of the hotel’s dining room. And other than giving in to Griffin’s offer of chocolate, she’d resisted temptation at the festival.

  And how long do you think that will last? a mocking voice taunted as she pulled on a pair of leggings. She wasn’t worried about the temptation of sinfully sweet desserts but rather the temptation of sinfully seductive Griffin James...

  She pulled a tunic-length navy sweater over her head and glanced in the mirror above the vanity. Her hair was too short to suffer a serious case of bed head, but she had washed all traces of makeup off when she came home.

  No foundation, no eyeliner, no mascara, no lipstick...yet that didn’t stop her lips from being a rosy pink, almost as if they, too, were clinging to the memory of Griffin’s kiss.

  Swallowing a curse, Evie hit the light switch and plunged the bathroom into darkness. She wasn’t going to run into Griffin. She’d go the back way into the hotel kitchen with no one the wiser. Slipping out of the small cottage, Evie burrowed into her sweater and made her way down the path. The night air was cold and silent, carrying the distant hint of a burning fireplace. Though the lights glowed in welcome from the porch and front lobby, Evie circled the wraparound porch toward the rear entrance.

  Evie pulled her key out and unlocked the back door. She stepped inside the kitchen and hit the lights only to jump a foot at the sound of a startled scream.

  It took her pupils a moment to adjust before she wished they hadn’t. Trisha and Aaron were locked together in a heated embrace with the redhead sitting on one of the stainless steel industrial counters, her legs locked around the handsome chef’s waist.

  “Oh, my—Evie, I am—we’re so sorry.” Trisha scrambled out of Aaron’s embrace, giving the man a glare when he mumbled something that sounded a lot like “Not that sorry.”