“Sap only runs in the spring,” he said, shaking his head pityingly. “Jacob’s not boiling anything right now.”
“Jacob?”
“My older brother. You’ll probably meet him. Come on in. You might even get a maple candy if you’re good.”
“How about if I just stay here while you go inside and do whatever? If I try to cross that parking lot I’ll die.”
He looked across the gravel and snow of the parking lot and glanced down at her needle-heeled pumps. “Ah. I take it you didn’t bring your snow boots.”
“Nobody said anything about a field trip,” she said darkly. And she’d take a cheap excuse. “These are Ferragamos and I’d just as soon not ruin them. You go on. I’ll wait.”
“Nope. It’s thirty degrees today. I’m not having a frozen woman on my conscience. Get out and I’ll help you.”
“But they’re still going to get wet,” she protested.
“Out.”
With a glower, Hadley stepped out onto the running board, then gave a little shriek of surprise as he swept her up into his arms. Something giddy skittered through her, something that had no business being there. He shoved the truck door closed with one elbow and began walking, his chest warm and hard against her.
“Put me down,” she managed to gasp with what breath she had left.
“Stop twisting or you’ll make me drop you.” Gabe strode matter-of-factly toward the porch. She fit just about right in his arms, the warm weight of her against him as he went up the path. It didn’t satisfy his hunger a bit, but that was all right. He was a patient man.
Struggling was undignified, that was why Hadley hooked an arm around his neck. It didn’t have anything to do with the fact that he’d hefted her with about as much effort as he’d carried her garment bag, or that the feel of his arms around her reminded her way too much of the sleigh. She wasn’t some air-head who got impressed by muscles or by memories of stolen kisses in the moonlight.
Gabe approached the steps. “Well, here we are.”
When he lowered her, his arms slipped down to her waist, pressing her lightly against him. The added height of her heels brought them face-to-face. Then he leaned in just a bit and her heart vaulted in her chest.
“I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind since this weekend,” he said conversationally, so close that she could feel the brush of his lips as he said the words. “Be a shame to miss this opportunity.”
She felt a flush of heat. And weakness, sneaky weakness began to spread through her. While she could still muster the strength, Hadley shook her head and pushed away from him. “We should get inside.”
“We should definitely do something,” Gabe agreed.
The gift shop was an Aladdin’s cave of treasures—pot holders and hand-milled soaps, dish towels and ceramic teapots, trivets, fancy jellies, recipe books, and everywhere, everywhere maple.
“Gabriel!” A woman’s glad voice rang out as they stepped inside. Tall and slender, she ducked out of the little enclosed cashier’s island, pushing her short, gray hair out of her face. “What a wonderful surprise!” She pulled him into an enthusiastic hug and bussed him on the cheek. “What brings you here?”
“Business in Montpelier. I thought I’d stop by. This is Hadley Stone,” he said, turning her toward Hadley. “We work together at the hotel. Hadley, this is my mother, Molly Trask.”
“Nice to meet you, Hadley,” Molly said warmly. She’d caught a bit of the parking lot activities through the window, watching with interest. Now she studied Hadley speculatively.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Hadley put out her hand and found it taken in a surprisingly strong grip. None of those girlie, squeeze-with-the-fingertips holds for Molly Trask. She shook like she meant it. “I can see Gabe takes after you,” Hadley said, studying Molly’s high cheekbones and generous mouth.
Molly gave a rueful glance at her jeans and flannel shirt. “Not in the clothing department, that’s for sure. It’s a good thing I work here where people don’t care.”
“You’re still gorgeous.” Gabe squeezed her. “You always will be.”
“Oh pshaw,” she said, but her cheeks tinted in pleasure.
“Is Jacob around?”
“He’s up in the Bixley Road sugar bush cutting brush, but he should be down soon. The ice cream machine’s gone on the fritz and I need him to fix it.” She nodded toward an arch at the end of the room that led to a bright café.
“You want me to take a look?”
“Oh don’t. You’ll mess up your nice clothes.”
But Gabe was already taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll just lay a towel on the floor. What’s the problem?”
“It sounds like the cooling fan threw a screw or something. It started clanking and then it just stopped.”
“Let me take a gander.” He moved behind the machine.
Molly turned to her. “Can I get you something to drink, Hadley? Coffee? Cider? It’s fresh-made down the road.”
“Cider would be lovely, thanks.”
Molly bustled behind the counter and poured a couple of glasses. “Gabriel, I’m leaving one on the counter for you.”
The only response was the clank of tools.
“We might as well sit down. This could take awhile,” Molly said, waving Hadley toward one of the oilcloth-covered picnic tables in the café. “So what do you do at the hotel?”
“I’m helping with the transition to the new owners.”
“It’s too bad about the previous owner.”
“He was my grandfather.” Whit’s death had never mattered to Hadley before, beyond the regret she’d feel for any stranger’s death. The quick stab of sadness she felt as she said the words now surprised her.
Quick compassion filled Molly’s blue eyes. “I’m so sorry. I know Gabriel thought highly of him.”
“So did everyone else, apparently. I didn’t know him well.”
“That’s a shame.”
“It is,” Hadley agreed.
“So you’re not from here, I take it. How long have you been in New Hampshire?”
“Just a few weeks.”
“It must be hard being away from your family.”
“Ma,” Gabriel called from behind the counter, “you’re grilling.”
“I am not grilling,” Molly answered. “I’m just being friendly.”
“Be friendly in another way.”
“I’m not grilling,” Molly said to Hadley. “It’s just that I know what it’s like. My son Nicholas lives down in Boston now. We’d hoped that all the boys would stay around, Adam and I, but things happen.”
“You’re understanding about it,” Hadley said, thinking of Robert and Irene.
“Why wouldn’t I be? They’ve got their own lives to lead. I can’t keep them around simply because I’d like it. I’m just happy for the time they make.” She raised her voice. “Especially when they fix my ice cream machine.”
“Just call me the Maytag Man,” Gabe said.
Molly’s grin was fond. “Anyway, I know how hard it is to be away from the people you’re close to, especially after losing your grandfather. Any time you’d like a home-cooked meal, come on by. For Christmas, even, if you can’t get home.”
“Ma,” Gabe began.
At that moment the door to the outside opened and Grizzly Adams walked in, or a close approximation with black beard and eyes the color of the cobalt glass Hadley had seen in the gift shop. “Is that Gabe’s car outside?” the giant rumbled.
“Ten points.” Gabe’s muffled voice came from behind the counter.
The man pulled off his bulky mackinaw to reveal a running back’s physique. “If you make that thing worse, you’re paying for it,” he called to Gabe.
“Jacob, behave yourself,” Molly said reprovingly. “You’re in front of a guest. This is Gabriel’s co-worker, Hadley. Hadley, meet my eldest son, Jacob.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Jacob’s hand was callused from work. �
�Gabe, let me in there so I can fix the damn thing.”
“I’ve got it.” Gabe reappeared and flipped the front switch on the machine. It rumbled to life.
“Couldn’t have been too broken,” Jacob muttered as the two men shook hands.
“You’re just cranky because you came up here expecting a break and now you’ve got to go back to clearing brush.”
“I like clearing brush.”
“No doubt. You can exercise your undeniable charm on the squirrels.”
Jacob merely snorted.
“Hadley should see the sugar house while she’s here,” Molly said. “Can you give her the tour?”
Jacob shifted uncomfortably. “Let Gabe do it. I have to stop by my house and get my gloves, and I want to finish that section I’m working on by nightfall. Nice to meet you, Hadley.” He hesitated, nodded and walked out.
“Jacob’s the antisocial one,” Gabe told her.
“He’s not antisocial, he’s just shy,” Molly said.
“He’s antisocial, Ma.”
Molly just shook her head. “You have to let people be who they are, Gabriel,” she said reprovingly. “I’ll take Hadley on the tour if you’ll give me just a minute.”
Hadley blinked. In her family, Jacob would never have gotten off so easily. If she’d refused a request—or a command performance, really—her parents would have made their displeasure known. Molly just seemed to take it in stride.
Gabe motioned Hadley toward the gift shop. “Come on, we might get some ideas for the Mount Jefferson store,” he said, drifting back into Aladdin’s cave.
Maple. It was everywhere: maple syrup, maple butter—whatever that was—granulated maple sugar, maple candies, maple pepper… She frowned. “Maple pepper?”
“You’ve never heard of it? It’s great.” He picked up the tester and handed it to her. “Try some.”
Unable to resist, Hadley shook a little on her palm and touched the tip of her tongue to it experimentally. She glanced up and caught Gabe’s eyes on hers as the taste spread through her mouth. Sharp, salty with an elusive hint of savory. She raised her head slowly.
“What’s it like?” he asked.
She swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “Sweet. Peppery. A mix.”
“Like some people I know.”
She moved to dust off her hand but he reached out and caught her fingers. Eyes locked on hers, he raised her palm toward his mouth and deliberately, unhurriedly, licked the last bit of maple pepper off of it.
And lust exploded through her. Warm, wet. The touch of his tongue turned her bones to liquid. She couldn’t think, couldn’t process anything but the touch, the promise, the desire thudding through her veins.
“Hate to see you waste it,” he said, closing her fingers over her palm.
“Are you ready for that tou—” Molly came into the room behind them. “Or maybe later.”
“No, come back,” Hadley said desperately, turning away from Gabe. “I’d love to see it. We’re all done here. Aren’t we, Gabe?” She glanced back.
He looked at her with unfathomable eyes. “For now.”
Chapter Eleven
Hadley strode up to the Mount Jefferson from the parking area, cell phone clamped to her ear, immersed in conversation with Lloyd Archer, their head of legal. “I left Burke from facilities inspecting the equipment at the ski area. We’ll have the contractor and assessor out on Monday.”
The previous day had been a whirl of activity as they’d bloody-mindedly pushed through the confidentiality agreement by close of business hours, despite demands for a legal review and a ridiculous number of signatures on all sides. The day had been a blur but at least it had given her no chance to dwell on just what the hell she was going to do about Gabriel Trask.
“So what roadblocks are you running into on your end?” she demanded, happy to keep the previous day’s distractive momentum going. “We’ve got to confirm that they don’t have any outstanding lawsuits against the property. That’s key.”
“We can get them to sign an official disclosure.”
“Not good enough,” she interrupted. “I don’t trust this guy. If they’re not letting you at the legal records, go down to county and search the casebooks.”
“You’re talking about an incredible amount of man-hours,” Archer warned. “I’ll have to haul in two or three paralegals.”
“Money, I’ve got. Time I don’t. Do what you need to to get it done.” She disconnected and mounted the stairs to the hotel porch. Just for a moment, she stopped and savored the picture. Familiarity hadn’t diminished the spell. Walking through the gleaming white door into the lobby still gave her a charge.
Even more so now. Christmas had come to the Mount Jefferson. A twenty-foot spruce festooned with red velvet bows and antique ornaments perfumed the air of the lobby. Garlands and ribbons twined up the banisters of the grand staircase. Pine boughs draped over the mantelpieces. The lobby columns were swathed with cotton wool and faerie lights. It was like walking into wonderland.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Angie asked from the front desk.
“Hi, Angie. Yes, it’s gorgeous. I can’t believe it.”
“Alicia is amazing.” Angie shifted uncomfortably.
Hadley looked at her in concern. “Are you okay? You’re not hurting, are you?”
“What I am is desperate,” she confessed, shifting again.
“Could I ask you a huge favor? Could you just stand here for two minutes while I go to the bathroom? I am dying.”
“Oh God, of course, go.”
Over at the elevator, Lester saluted Hadley as she stepped behind the counter. “Part of the team, I see.”
The lobby looked different from behind the desk. Just the act of walking behind the polished wood barrier somehow made her feel like a part of things. Then she spotted a man with iron-gray hair walking toward her. Hurry Angie, hurry. She beamed the message desperately. To cover her uneasiness, Hadley gave him a big smile. “Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you?”
He slid his key onto the counter. “Can you tell me where I get the shuttle to the ski area?”
An easy one, thank God. Hadley picked up the key. “Go out the front doors here and wait. The shuttle stops right under the portico, runs every fifteen minutes.”
“Great, thanks.”
“My pleasure.” She turned to the bank of pigeonholes behind her and tucked the key carefully into the correct slot.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Angie breathed, slipping back behind the counter a few moments later.
Hadley frowned. “You of all people shouldn’t be stuck here alone. I mean, what if something happened? Aren’t there usually a couple of people assigned here?”
“René and Bill are both out with that stomach flu that’s going around. Of all the rotten luck. I mean, Winter Carnival starts today. I don’t see how we’re going to keep up when the big rush hits. It’s going to be a nightmare.”
“Where’s Tina?”
“She just left for lunch. She had to go to the bank but she said she’d be back as soon as she could.”
Angie looked exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes. Formerly, she’d glowed with pregnancy. Now, she just looked tapped out by the load she was carrying.
“You look like you’re still having trouble sleeping. Are you running yourself ragged getting ready? Is Hank around?”
“No, that’s part of the problem. I never sleep right when he’s gone.” She grimaced in discomfort.
Hadley’s concern was immediate. “What’s wrong?”
“I had a maplerito craving at lunch. It’s revisiting me.”
“Maplerito?”
“A bean burrito with maple syrup. I know—” Angie laughed and pressed a hand to her stomach “—it’s revolting.”
“You pregnant women and your cravings,” Hadley said, walking over to the computer and tapping the shift key to bring up the screen. “So how does this thing work?”
“The registration system?”
“Yeah. Show me how to use it.”
Angie’s brow furrowed. “I can’t let you do that.”
“Come on, it can’t be that hard to do the basics. Then I can watch the desk for a little while and you can take a break.”
“But…you can’t…this isn’t your job,” Angie spluttered.
“I’m like Gabe. Anything that happens here is my job.”
“Tina will freak.”
“Leave Tina to me,” Hadley ordered. “Now show me.”
The system was fairly straightforward, so long as the guest had a reservation. Angie went through the process twice, with Hadley taking notes, then Hadley tried it out. “Okay, I think I’ve got it. Now you go in back and get off your feet for fifteen minutes. I’ll let you know if I need you.”
Angie clutched her stomach for a moment and nodded. “I think I hear the ladies’ room calling me again.”
A moment later, a couple with a pair of children approached the desk. “Hi, we’d like to check in,” said the man.
“I’m Hadley,” she replied with a smile. “Welcome to the Hotel Mount Jefferson.”
Gabe walked through the lobby, stooping to pick up an errant straw wrapper that had somehow blown over from the bar. He’d checked the prep work in the kitchen, assured himself that rooms for the new check-ins would be ready by three, touched base with Alicia on the events schedule and visited the stable to make sure the sleighs and horses were all set. The next stop was the front desk, and he figured on being there for a while. There was never a good time for people to get sick, but the opening day of the Winter Carnival weekend was worst than most. He stopped at the lobby bar. “Hey, Lorraine.”
“Hi, Mr. Trask,” the waitress said, tray at her hip.
“I hate to give you one more thing to do, but keep an eye on the check-in line, will you? If you see people having to wait, bring by a tray of sodas for them. We might not be able to speed things up, but at least we can keep them happy.”
“Sure, Mr. Trask. So far, it’s been moving pretty well. Ms. Stone has been helping them out.”
“Ms. Stone?” He leaned around a pillar just in time to see Hadley pick up a guest’s credit card with a beaming smile. “How about that,” he murmured to himself.
Under The Mistletoe (Holiday Hearts #2) Page 13