A Kiss for Christmas

by Melody Grace

  He smiled at her, that charming, roguish smile. If she was right there on the couch with him, she’d be set too.

  Rules. She needed more rules.

  “A cup of tea.” Ellie nodded, backing away before she could jump him. “It’s the least I can do.”

  She bustled in to the small kitchen next door and bused herself filling the kettle and hunting down some tea. It was a good distraction from the fact that the safe, lake-sized distance between her and Dash was now way smaller.

  And much less safe.

  So, he was spending the night there with her just down the hall. That didn’t mean a thing. She would just give him his hot tea and go back to bed—and keep a locked door between them. She could show some self-control.

  Easy.

  “Do you want herbal or English Breakfast?” she called.

  “Anything caffeinated, thanks.” Dash’s voice came from right behind her, making Ellie jump. “I figure I’ll pull an all-nighter and keep writing.”

  He was standing in the doorway, looming large in the small space. She gulped. He had stripped off his winter gear, wearing a pair of perfectly-fitted jeans and a vintage navy T-shirt that clung to his torso. She realized that it was the first time he hadn’t been bundled up against the cold, and suddenly, she could see the outline of his torso and muscular, defined arms—

  A whistle broke her train of thought. “The kettle!” Ellie leaped over to the stove to take it off the flame. She was certain she was blushing by now, but maybe she could pretend it was just the heat.

  “So the script is going well?” she babbled, pouring two mugs and dunking the tea bags in.

  “Knock on wood.” Dash rapped the doorframe. “I guess all I really needed was the right inspiration.”

  “I’m glad. That it’s working out, I mean. Your writing. After you came all this way. Maybe it’s the woods after all, nature, all that stuff.”

  Just stop.

  She took a deep breath, then turned back to him. Dash was gazing straight at her, with a heart-stopping intensity in his eyes.

  Heat flooded through her.

  Oh boy.

  Ellie gulped. “Listen, about before…” she blurted.

  He cleared his throat. “Right. That. I’m sorry. It was completely out of line.”

  Her heart sank. It was?

  “I must have got caught up in the scene,” Dash continued, sounding apologetic. “You know, the snow, the moonlight… Won’t happen again,” he finished. “Promise.”

  “Oh. Good,” Ellie answered slowly. “I mean, great. Just wanted to make sure we’re both on the same page…”

  She trailed off, feeling embarrassed. It’s what she’d wanted, right? No risk of making the same mistake all over again. But for some reason, she found her gaze straying to his lips, wondering how they would feel kissing her deeper; harder, there in the warmth with nothing to stop him peeling off that shirt and her running her hands all over—

  Ellie grabbed a mug of tea in each hand. “Ready!”

  She tried to exit, but he blocked her way for a moment. “Sorry,” he said, moving to the right—just as she did, too. They both bobbed in an awkward mirror dance until he finally stood aside with a chuckle to let her through.

  In the living room, Ellie set his mug on the coffee table in front of the couch, then went to light the fire already laid out in the grate. The tinder flickered alight, quickly catching into a merry blaze while Dash folded his long limbs down onto the couch. She bolted for the armchair furthest away from him. But even from there, she couldn’t help thinking how romantic the cozy sitting room had suddenly become: fire blazing, lights dim, with the snow still tumbling down outside the windows. Even though the rest of the inn was full of guests, it felt like the two of them were completely alone.

  “So, what changed?” she asked, steering things back to safe territory. “For your writing, I mean. A last-minute flash of inspiration?”

  “Something like that.” He propped his head on one hand, watching her with a curious stare. “What about you, couldn’t sleep?”

  “The guilt kept me up,” Ellie joked. “I was picturing you huddled in the corner, burning script pages to stay alive.”

  Dash laughed. “It was actually a good thing, being so cold. Kept me focused on the writing. You should advertise it for struggling artists,” he added with a wicked grin. “Ice road boot camp, the extreme way to beat writer’s block. You could charge a fortune, I’m telling you.”

  She smiled. “But the lawsuits would be a bitch. Frozen fingers and toes.”

  “Psh.” Dash grinned. “Wimps. Didn’t anyone tell you you need to suffer for your art?”

  “See, that’s the part I don’t buy.” Ellie tucked her legs under her body, getting comfortable. “This whole tormented artist thing. It makes it seem like happy people can’t be creative, like if you don’t have some deep dark trauma lurking in your past, you can’t be capable of writing a good book, or painting a beautiful picture.”

  “No, I’m not saying that,” Dash argued. “I had a rather normal childhood—”

  “Except the humiliation of that second-place prize,” she teased.

  “Except that.” He smiled. “But, I think artists see the world differently, they think about people, about life more deeply. It’s what makes us want to create, to explore what’s going on beneath the surface.”

  Ellie snorted. “So us civilians don’t think about the world?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying!” he protested.

  “You are, but that’s OK.” She smiled so he knew she was still teasing. “I could never sit down and write a book or movie. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  Dash flexed his hands, wincing. “The first draft is hell, but after that it gets easier. At least, that’s what I tell myself.”

  “How does it work?” she asked, trying to imagine creating a whole world, a story from scratch. “Do you ever base characters on people you know, or do you make it all up?”

  Dash shrugged, evasive. “A mix of both. It depends.”

  “That would be the best revenge,” she mused. “Anyone who screws you over, you can just put them in the movie—but as a really unflattering asshole.”

  He laughed. “That’s how your brain works, hmm? You don’t think, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to immortalize this awesome person?’ you just go straight for the jugular.”

  “Don’t you?” she protested. “Come on, tell me you haven’t written someone in just to get back at them.”

  Dash’s expression turned mischievous. “Well, there was this one girl… She broke up with me in a text message.”

  “The horror!”

  “Hey! There’s a way to do that kind of thing, and it’s not on your mobile phone.”

  “You Brits,” she teased, “such sticklers for etiquette. So, what was your revenge?”

  “A mate of mine was writing a horror movie, and he was brainstorming… So I may have suggested he call a character Claire and have her get attacked by the monster because she was too busy looking at her phone.”

  Ellie laughed. “Do you think she ever realized it was her?”

  He shrugged. “Be a pretty great claim to fame if she did. That’s the problem with writing your revenge,” he sighed. “Usually the people are too excited to be in a movie at all to care if they look bad.”

  “Right, they get to live on forever.” Ellie yawned. “Still, I’d hate it, having someone write about me. Just imagine, being immortalized as a weird version of yourself—like they get to decide who’s the real you.” She shuddered.

  “I don’t know.” Dash looked unsettled. “Wouldn’t you be flattered?”

  “No way.” She shook her head, determined. “I’m happy to stay behind the scenes, thanks very much. So no getting any ideas about putting me in your movie,” she warned him, joking.

  He coughed, then took a gulp of tea. Ellie’s eyes went to the clock over the mantle. She’d lost track of time, talking like this, and now it was
past one in the morning. She yawned again, but didn’t move. It was cozy there, tucked in the warm room with the fire flickering in the grate, and she was feeling a sleepy kind of lull.

  This would be simpler if Dash wasn’t so easy to talk to. She could just keep her distance and fight the attraction until his stay was over. But instead… she liked spending time with him. Even when he bugged her with his ego and teasing, it was still a fun back-and-forth, words and quips flying between them. She didn’t think she’d ever had such a natural rhythm with a guy like that before.

  “What are you thinking?” Dash’s voice broke her sleepy haze.

  She flushed. “Nothing,” she said quickly. “Just all the things I need to do tomorrow.”

  “Don’t you have a to-do list for that?” Dash’s smile was gentle. Teasing.

  He already knew her too well.

  “This is the revised list,” Ellie lied. “Although, this is the easiest season. We have a ton of guests, but they’re regulars. They all pretty much take care of themselves.”

  “Except for that annoying chap in cabin fifteen.” Dash’s eyes flashed with mirth. “He can’t go five minutes without needing rescue from the snow.”

  “He could have packed a couple more layers,” she agreed, smiling.

  “What’s wrong with my clothes?” Dash looked down, tugging at his T-shirt. It lifted, revealing several inches of tanned, toned stomach muscle.

  She swallowed.

  “They’re fine—for an afternoon at the beach.” She dragged her gaze away. “But maybe you want to invest in a fleece if you want to make it through a real winter.”

  “Fleece, check.” Dash grinned. “I’ll have to remember that for next time.”

  Next time.

  Her heart lifted. If he was coming back, then maybe, their kiss could be the start of something, not the end. He probably travelled for movies all the time; there was no reason he couldn’t swing by Sweetbriar Cove en route to New York or London—

  No. Ellie forced her imagination back in check. He’d said it himself, that kiss was a mistake, and besides, hadn’t she learned by now that long distance was a lie? She refused to be the girl waiting around for her guy to remember she existed. She wanted to be off, having adventures of her own, not hanging out in the hope of a visit every couple of months.

  She looked at Dash, stretching out on the couch. He tugged a blanket down and covered his legs, giving Ellie a sleepy smile that made her want to snuggle up right there with him—and do anything but sleep tonight.

  She got to her feet.

  “Calling it a night?” Dash asked, and she wondered if that was disappointment in his voice.

  She nodded. “Busy day tomorrow. I’m a guest judge at the nog-off.”

  “Nog-off?” he repeated, arching an eyebrow.

  “Eggnog tasting,” she told him, and put another couple of logs on the fire. “Are you sure you’ll be OK here for the night? There are pillows in the closet just across the hall.”

  “I’m all set.” Dash tugged his bag over and pulls out his laptop. “I won’t be getting much sleep, I’ve still got another twenty pages left in me.”

  He smiled, clearly full of excitement to be getting back to work. Right. She’d been sitting there dreaming about stripping all his clothes off and doing unspeakable things on her parents’ knitted afghan throw, while he was plotting his next masterpiece. That was definitely her cue to leave.

  “Goodnight,” she told him, heading for the door.

  “Sleep tight.” His voice followed Ellie down the hallway, back to her room, and into her dreams.

  Chapter 6

  Dash stayed up all night writing and finally crashed around dawn. When he woke again, bright sunlight was burning around the edge of the curtains, and his watch said it was almost one p.m.

  He threw off the blanket and stretched, yawning. The couch had turned out to be surprisingly comfortable, or maybe he was just too tired to care; either way, he felt refreshed and calm, all his stressed anxiety and tension from the past months finally melted away.

  A good night’s writing would do that to a guy. Almost better than a night with a good woman.

  He pulled back the drapes and went to fix some coffee in the kitchen. Outside the windows, the ground was blanketed in a thick sweep of snow, but the sky was clear blue and the pale sun was shining bright. The perfect winter’s day. He paused and watched a bundled-up figure trudge across the backyard to one of the cabins. The sun glint bright gold off the hair peeking out from under her knit cap.

  Ellie.

  Dash would be lying if he said he only had one reason for showing up on her doorstep. He could have suffered through the cold, it wasn’t that bad, but the thought of the beautiful woman indoors was just too tempting. He held out and focused on the writing for as long as he could, but visions of her kept slipping into his mind, driving him crazy.

  He knew she’d pulled away and cut the kiss short, but her body couldn’t lie: for those moments she was in his arms, the heat between them was explosive. Intoxicating. And hanging out together last night, the chemistry was just as strong. When she’d opened the door, looking so cute and guilty in those big baggy pajamas…

  Snap out of it, a voice in Dash’s head mocks him. You’ve got swimsuit models on speed dial who could give Victoria’s Secret a run for their money in the lingerie department, and you’re getting hot and bothered over flannel?

  He grabbed his stuff and went to take a shower in the bathroom down the hall. He’d remembered to pack some clean clothes and toiletries before he quit the cabin last night; now he stood under the steaming jets and tried not to think about the curves Ellie was hiding under that windbreaker.

  She was an enigma, alright. Fire and ice, all wrapped up in one sexy package. And the more he got to know her, the more intrigued he was. She came off so sarcastic and sassy, but there was sweetness underneath the surface too—the way she cared about the people in town and was working hard to help out her parents. She was a million miles from the women he met back in LA: so focused on their own careers or fame, they’d stab anyone in the back to get ahead. Maybe Dash had started taking it for granted, that competitive edge, but being around Ellie made him wonder just when he’d started settling for dates who kept their phone on the table, checking every five minutes, or who always had one eye on the door in case someone more famous walked in.

  Ellie was different. It felt so easy just talking to her, even when she was driving him crazy. Last night by the fire, it took all his self-control not to make another move—just push her back against the wall and claim those lips again for another taste—

  He turned the water cold in the shower to keep his body in check.

  Damn chivalry. His mother may have been a thousand miles away, but she raised him right. And when a woman said something was a bad idea and it could never happen again, he had to respect that.

  Except…

  Dash remembered the way she’d looked at him, like she was holding back, too. There was something between them; she couldn’t deny it.

  So what would it take to make her change her mind?

  Dash dried off and got dressed, but as he headed back to the stairs, he passed Ellie’s open bedroom door. He paused, but he couldn’t resist taking a look inside. It was a small room, quaint like the rest of the inn, decorated in shades of blue and cream. There was barely any hint of her vibrant personality, except for one thing: on the far wall, she had postcards pinned in a neat grid, all the way to the ceiling. He moved closer, taking in the bright cards: Australia, France, the UK… They’d all been sent by guests over the years, after they’d returned back home.

  Come visit, anytime!

  Loved my stay—see you all next year.

  There must have been a hundred or more, going back a dozen years. Ellie had kept them all and pinned them up, as inspiration maybe; part of that travel plan of hers she somehow never got started.

  Like the character in his script.

  Dash
felt a flash of guilt, remembering what she’d said last night. She hated the idea of being captured in a movie or book; providing inspiration for a character was the last thing she wanted—but that was exactly what she had done.

  Dash thought back over the pages that had flowed so easily from his fingertips—all of them inspired by her. Once he knew the character driving his story, everything else had fallen into place. She may not have been in every scene, but she was the catalyst alright. And she would hate it if she ever found out.

  Maybe not, he tried to reason. Once the movie was wrapped, with a big Hollywood star playing her role, she might not even recognize herself up there on screen. He knew from experience that there were a million rewrites between a first draft and a final movie; who knew what he would wind up changing along the way?

  He heard a noise downstairs: Ellie’s voice, talking to some of the guests. He quickly exited her bedroom and made for the stairs, leaving his laptop in the living room.

  “The night owl awakes,” she greeted him when he stepped into the reception area. She was wearing an ugly bright green holiday sweater with a tree knitted on the front, and a familiar smirk on her gorgeous mouth. “Did anyone ever tell you you snore?”

  “Do not!” Dash protested.

  “Like a freight train.” She grinned. “I came in around eight and you were passed out, honking like crazy. You could have caused an avalanche.”

  “Liar.” He wandered over. She had a plate of cookies on the desk, and he snaffled one. “Breakfast of champions.”

  “You’re a little late for breakfast,” she said. “It’s almost time for afternoon tea.”

  “Then I’ll have some of that, too.” His stomach let out an angry growl. “Want to go get some lunch?” he asked casually. “A girl can’t live on biscuits alone.”

  She flushed. “Can’t. Working.”

  “You can take a break though, I won’t tell.” Dash gave her his most charming grin, the one that got fussy actresses out of their trailers and tight-fisted studio execs to cough up extra filming budget, but Ellie was made of sterner stuff.

  “We’re not all on vacation,” she said, her voice getting more clipped. “Some of us have to work for a living.”