Christmas With A Mountain Man (Rich & Rugged: A Hawkins Brothers Romance Book 5)

by Ellie Hall

  After settling on the cushiony first-class seat on the plane, she checked her phone one more time to make sure she didn’t miss any instructions.

  It felt strange yet exhilarating to be boarding a plane and not knowing where she was going to end up. But it was much like her future itself: an unknown thing. The one-piece of certainty was that she and Rocky were going to be together and that was like an anchor. She had faith that the rest would unfold favorably, guided by God’s hand. Her faith had grown stronger in recent times.

  In her personal life, she was a go with the flow kind of girl. When she had her restaurant, she’d micromanaged every little detail. Perhaps the lesson for the next chapter in her life was to explore, experiment, and see what new flavors and taste combinations, she’d discover—not to mention locations. Still, her stomach was all butterflies and that was not due to the turbulence. It was one thing to tell herself to live with the unknown and another to practice it.

  After the six-hour flight to the east coast, the plane captain indicated passengers could turn on their phones. Her third oldest brother, Luca, had recently left a message and his name lit up her screen. Hey, sis. Your man has got you traveling in style. Buon Viaggio! Or as they say in the AirFrance terminal, Bon Voyage.

  Just then a man wearing a dark blue suit with a little red pin on the lapel signaled her. “Mademoiselle Costa?”

  She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. “That’s me.”

  “Right this way s’il vous plait.” He gestured she join him and led her through the terminal.

  It wasn’t far to the AirFrance airport lounge where she was greeted by a woman wearing a dark blue suit with a red scarf tied around her neck. “Bienvenue.” A sign behind her indicated it was the airline’s premier lounge.

  After settling on one of the red sofas, being brought a warm towel to freshen up, and learning she had an assortment of devices and entertainment options available, her phone beeped again.

  It was Rocky. I can’t wait to see you.

  She imagined his smile hiding under his beard, the sparkle in his eyes, and the tenderness in his touch. A shiver worked through her that had nothing to do with the cold outdoor temperature.

  I can’t wait to see you either, but exactly where will that be? France? she wrote back.

  My lips are sealed.

  His lips were what had done her in. The kiss that was supposed to prove they weren’t compatible had the opposite effect.

  Why the secrecy? she typed back.

  I’m thinking of it as more of a surprise. She imagined his smile turning into a smirk.

  The proposal was pretty unexpected...

  I think you might like this even more..., he answered.

  The woman in the blue uniform indicated it was time for her to board.

  I just found out it’s time to depart. If I’m kidnapped or my plane goes missing over the Bermuda triangle, I was last seen in a very luxurious airport lounge in New York courtesy of my very romantic and mysterious fiancé. She was joking but wasn’t sure why they weren’t traveling together. Where did he have to go ahead of time? He certainly still could’ve surprised her if they’d left together. I love you she added.

  I’d never let anything happen to you. Neither would your brothers so you have nothing to worry about and everything to look forward to. I love you too. Oh, and I hope you’re hungry.

  In the short time they’d been together, she and Rocky had gotten close and he’d opened up—conceivably more than he ever had before, after isolating himself on the mountain. However, he wasn’t a touchy-feely emotional kind of guy. Nonetheless, his comment sent a flurry of warmth through her even as she passed through the chilly jetway to board the seven-seventy-seven airplane.

  Again she was greeted, and her every need was accounted for as she settled into the plush chair that converted to a bed in the private cabin on the luxurious airplane. An assortment of beauty and comfort items were available if she wanted to freshen up before going to sleep or upon waking. There were pillows, blankets, and soft lighting to make her comfortable.

  Although she would never turn her nose up at luxury, she’d worked so hard for so many years, she hardly had time for it. She’d spent a few hours at the spa at the Hawk Ridge Resort the week before, but other than that, living in the cabin was more like roughing it and Rocky certainly wasn’t the kind of guy who indulged in pampering. When they’d met, it had hardly looked like he groomed. And yet, he’d treated her to this experience. Though he had mentioned his family inheritance. Maybe it inspired him to spend.

  Frankie took a deep breath, nearly forgetting she was on a plane until they were well into the flight and the attendant asked if she would like dinner service. A menu was presented and she ordered the specialty of a French chef that she admired. Shortly after, her food arrived and she savored every bite of the tender greens, the perfectly seared halibut, and the fluffy potatoes. Frankie couldn’t help but moan with delight over how delicious the meal was.

  She made it a habit of savoring her food, of savoring life, loudly, grandly, and unapologetically. Perhaps it was the Italian in her or the fact that she knew how fleeting and precious life was. If she didn’t enjoy each moment, then what was there? Rushing to the next moment? Missing the richness of the colors, flavors, and textures? She believed the present was a gift and she was grateful. She was the kind of person who wanted to look back and know that she used every last drop, every ounce of energy, and left it all out there, not squandering a second.

  “You’re enjoying the meal?” an older man with a bald head asked, appearing from another luxury cabin.

  She blinked, startled.

  It was Louis Picard, the renowned chef whose name was on the inflight menu and had designed the meal she was finishing. He wore plain clothes and showed no signs of being behind the cooktop so she guessed that he hadn’t cooked it himself.

  “Yes. It is magnificent.”

  “For airplane food,” he said in accented English. He wore a pleasant smile. “I like people who appreciate good food and don’t just gobble down their meal. You should come to my restaurant in Paris sometime.”

  “I’d love to. I admire your work greatly. I’m a cook too.”

  “You, cherie, are a chef. I’ve been to Mangia Bella.”

  If her mouth had been full, she would have choked.

  “In New York City?”

  The older man nodded. “The vongole was, as you said, magnificent.”

  “Really? I wasn’t sure if I had the ratio of garlic to red pepper right. And the basil was a last-minute, nontraditional addition.”

  “It was perfect. Freshest clams I’d ever had. The flavors were robust, the pasta al dente.”

  The pair went on to talk about all things food for the next hour, trading recipes, tips, and stories about life in the kitchen. She even told him about the sad fate of Mangia Bella.

  “So, what’s next for you?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I’m working on a cookbook, but otherwise I’m not sure.”

  “Oh, in that case, the world is your oyster—or clam as it were,” he said, referring to the vongole, one of Mangia Bella’s signature dishes.

  Frankie smiled, fangirling on the inside, but holding it together. Barely.

  Sometime later, the captain announced that they would soon land in Milan, Italy.

  At the same time, her phone beeped with an alert. It was her fourth brother, Gio. You can thank me for helping your man out with dinner arrangements. Rocky said he wanted to lavish you with gifts before the big show as he’s calling it so I hope you enjoyed it. I figured you’d like to pick old Picard’s brain.

  Gio sometimes reverted to being twelve and had a way of making everything sound gross, which was no help when he’d worked in her kitchen a while back. He’d handled her social media and proved he was a better photographer than cook, leading him out of the kitchen and into a new career. Clearly, he remembered their many conversations about famous chefs.

 
I’m highly suspicious if Rocky used the word “lavish.” She chuckled as she prepared to disembark.

  Okay, fine, that was a paraphrase, but that guy sure loves you. You’re a lucky woman.

  The fact that he’d gotten her family, especially her brothers, in on “the big show” was a testament to that fact. And luck? Maybe it was finally turning around. She’d lost the restaurant, was almost attacked by a bear, snowed in, lost power... She realized though, that she’d kept her chin up through it all. Maybe that attitude was what brought her through it and to where she was.

  Before she could think more about it, another attendant whisked her through the terminal to an awaiting car.

  Despite traveling on AirFrance, she was in fact in Italy and the scents, the sounds, and the hum of the motherland immediately buzzed in her bones.

  Frankie took a deep breath of the exhaust-filled air outside the airport before getting in yet another sleek SUV.

  Glancing out the window at the familiar sights, she was evenly split between feeling like Italy was her home as well as New York and maybe even Hawk Ridge Hollow.

  The car brought her to the shopping district where she recognized the stores labeled with famous Italian designers. Gucci, Armani, Prada, and Valentino just to name a few.

  Paulo, the third youngest in the family, sent a message. I was told to text you to let the driver know where you’d like to stop. You need a few dresses. Specifically one for today, tomorrow, and the next day. Plus anything else you want.

  Anything? she asked, joking.

  That’s what he said.

  “He” being Rocky? she wrote.

  I’m just following orders. She imagined her brother rolling his eyes, put out by the task.

  Is this tedious for you? She asked, sensing Paulo wasn’t interested in texting her attire instructions.

  Very.

  So you’d say no if I asked you to come shopping with me.

  Even if I could, it would be a big, fat no.

  She knew that would be the answer, but asked anyway because her curiosity was killing her. Was the whole family in Italy? Was Rocky? If she could make anyone give her details, it would be Paulo, not because he was a pushover, but because he couldn’t be bothered with anything other than his job.

  Where are you? she typed.

  I cannot say. Just hurry up, pick out a few dresses, and let’s get on with this. His cavalier boredom practically oozed through the phone.

  She swiped to the short text thread with Rocky. In case you didn’t know, I’m in Italy and was told, by my very unforthcoming brother, that I need some dresses. For what occasion?

  Yes, you’re on Corso Vittorio Emanuele II if I’m not mistaken.

  Are you tracking my every move?

  Consider this the appetizer to what will be a wonderful meal.

  I did have a wonderful lunch on the plane. Thank you.

  My pleasure. Depending on what shop you pick, an employee will be able to help you select appropriate attire.

  Frankie bit the side of her lip as the car stopped on a corner. She hadn’t seen this side of her mountain man before. She kind of liked it.

  “Where would you like to stop, signorina?” the driver asked.

  “There,” she pointed to a shop across the street.

  Frankie’s mind was racing. The Rocky she knew was a rugged hockey player, a gruff mountain man, but as it turned out he was also rich. After they’d roughed it in the cabins for the last few weeks, it seemed he wanted to spoil her. She wouldn’t say no to that. As she neared the gilded entryway to Oscar de la Renta, she didn’t mind one bit.

  As Frankie swept through the doors to the store, several eyes landed on her. She suddenly felt like she looked out of place. Her clothing was disheveled after all the travel and her hair needed to be washed. But she didn’t feel out of place. Despite growing up under modest circumstances, she was an Italian woman through and through, giving her a kind of confidence and grace that didn’t have a price tag despite the garments of extremely high value surrounding her.

  She smoothed her shirt, shook out her hair, and pressed her shoulders back.

  All at once, three women approached her as though recognizing a celebrity. They chattered at her in Italian, asking about her travels and if she would like anything to drink.

  They seemed to be prepared for her arrival and ushered her to a private dressing room where four racks of clothing awaited.

  She was informed by a lady with a slim nose that she was to select something from the first rack for that evening, New Year’s Eve, Eve. The styles were casual but definitely dressier than anything she had in her suitcase. The theme seemed to be dinner attire and she settled on a dress with a black lace bodice consisting of understated floral cutouts over a beige sheath. The skirt was white with red ribbons threaded through the fabric. It was festive and fun. She selected red heels to complete the outfit.

  Then the employees had her try on dresses for New Year’s Eve itself, which were entirely over the top fancy. Confections. Outrageous. Runway styles. They were all wedding dresses. She could hardly believe what was happening.

  After making her way through ten, Frankie felt like a princess, although an increasingly tired one.

  Just as she was about to ask one of the ladies for an espresso, a round of chatter came from the front of the shop and grew louder. They spoke in English and made apologies as they neared.

  Four women burst through the door and the apologies continued as they greeted and hugged and kissed left cheek-right cheek in the European style.

  “We are so sorry we’re late,” Sadie said. If Frankie remembered correctly, she was Rocky’s oldest brother’s wife.

  “I wasn’t expecting you to be early or even on time,” Frankie said. Her eyebrows furrowed.

  Everyone went silent. It was only broken by Frankie’s phone beeping from inside her bag.

  There were two texts from her brother Nico. The first was telling her to expect company. The second was informing her they were stuck in traffic.

  “Oh, this is part of the—”

  “The hashtag Frankie and Rocky get hitched show,” chimed Cece.

  “Wait? There’s a hashtag?” Frankie asked. “Rocky only got a phone a few days ago.”

  “And only so he could communicate with you while he sent you on this adventure,” Kayla said.

  Cece smiled. “Among those of us in the family, it’s a hashtag. We need some photos now.” She snapped her camera.

  “None with the wedding dresses,” Brynn said hastily. “It has to be a surprise.”

  At that, they commenced dress shopping. Frankie was in awe of the gowns, but also the fact that Rocky, who was happy to hide out in his cabin, had planned such an elaborate lead up to what was obviously a surprise wedding. It was delightfully unexpected.

  Frankie slid on a white silk dress with a tulle skirt and studded with what the saleswoman said were embroidered jasmine flowers but looked like stars. Her breath caught. In fact, everyone in the room seemed to stop breathing. Faint silver threads made the gown sparkle along with a selection of crystals on the bodice as she brought her hands to her mouth. It was stunning. When she moved, the skirt rippled like it had dimension, like the depth of the night sky on the mountain. She paired it with silk heels and spun in a circle.

  A moan escaped and then a squeal from among the women.

  The dress felt right against her skin, fit like a glove, and made her light up from within.

  “That’s the one. That’s the dress,” Sadie said, arranging the edges of the skirt.

  Frankie caught a glimpse of her smile in the enormous mirror as the other women stepped aside so she could get a full view. Frankie let out a gasp-sigh-moan. She was going to savor every moment of it.

  “Yes, this is the dress,” she confirmed.

  The next rack contained outfits for New Year’s Day. The girls suggested she dress comfortably as though they knew something that she didn’t so she selected slim black pants that
reached her ankles along with a gold blouse and light sweater.

  Several hours after arriving, Frankie walked out of the store wearing the first dress and with numerous bags in hand. The store employees assured her the gown would be waiting for her at her hotel. The others followed her into the SUV, which was still waiting by the curb.

  Everyone piled in and the driver merged into the traffic. “Where to now?” Frankie asked.

  As if on cue, her phone beeped. Rocky’s name splashed across the screen.

  “He really has this timed down to the minute,” Frankie said, opening the message.

  The girls smirked.

  “Let’s just say everyone is surprised by...” Kayla said.

  “By the big show,” Cece filled in for her, using the hockey term.

  Frankie read the message from Rocky. One more leg of the trip before we get to see each other.

  A fizzy feeling rushed through her. She couldn’t wait to be in his arms again. Despite the uncertainty in her professional life, he provided her certainty. Like the mountains where he lived, he was a rock. She chuckled inwardly. Like his name.

  I can’t wait she wrote back. Is it a long ride or a short ride? she typed after a beat.

  I’m not telling. But what is it that they say? Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

  I’ll get the girls to spill.

  Good luck, he answered and added a winking face.

  For the next hour, Frankie peppered Sadie, Kayla, Cece, and Brynn with questions about where they were going, but no one uttered a word as though they were sworn to secrecy. As the day faded to evening, the buildings crowding the edge of the motorway opened up to scenic countryside. Little stucco buildings with orange tiled roofs clustered in villages dotted the rolling hills. That could only mean one thing. They were in Tuscany.

  A thrill worked through Frankie. She’d been there plenty of times and it held a special place in her heart—Tuscany had a slower pace and didn’t take any energy from Frankie, much like Hawk Ridge Hollow, but unlike New York. In fact, the region in Italy gave back by leaving her with a feeling of being refreshed and renewed.

  The girls chattered about how beautiful the scenery was. Only Cece had ever visited but was equally excited.