Whitney gave him a scolding look. “It sounds lovely. I watch It’s a Wonderful Life and share a ham with Gater and Fifi. I usually bring carrots to the horses, that sort of thing.” She sighed, leaning into his arms. “I miss having someone to celebrate with. That’s why I came to this wedding. I mean, I came for Jo, but...”
“Tell you what—we’ll head back to the farm now, because it looks all Christmassy, and then—” his mouth was moving before he realized what he was saying “—then after the wedding, maybe we can spend part of Christmas together before you go home?”
“I’d like that.” Her cheeks flushed with warmth. “But I don’t have a present for you.”
He couldn’t resist. “You are the only present I want. Maybe even tied up with a bow....” He gathered her into his arms and pressed her back against the tiled wall with a rather heated kiss.
Several minutes passed before she was able to ask, “Are you done with your work?”
“For now, yes.” Later he’d have to log back in and launch another round of damage control. But he could take a few hours to focus on Whitney. “Let me take you home.”
She giggled. “I don’t think I have much of a choice in that, do I? My truck’s still out on the farm.” A look of concern crossed her face. “Can you drive your car in the snow?”
“I’m a Beaumont,” he said, his words echoing off the tiled walls of the bathroom. “I have more than one vehicle.”
* * *
After a comfortable drive out to the farm in his Jeep, Whitney asked him if he’d stay for dinner. Jo had already set a place for him at the table and Phillip said, “Hang out, dude.”
So, after a quick check of his messages to make sure that nothing else had blown up, Matthew sat down to dinner—homemade fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Finally, over easy conversation about horses and celebrities, he and Whitney managed to successfully eat a meal together.
Then Jo said, “We’re going to watch Elf, if you want to join us.”
“I auditioned for that movie,” Whitney said, leaning into him. “But I was, um, under the influence at the time and blew it pretty badly, so Zooey Deschanel got the part. It’s still a really funny movie. I watch it every year.”
Matthew looked at Phillip, who was pointedly not smiling at the way Matthew had wrapped his arm around Whitney’s waist. “Sure,” Matthew heard himself say. “It sounds like fun.”
As the women popped popcorn and made hot chocolate, of all things, Phillip pulled him aside under the pretense of discussing the sound for the movie. “Who are you,” he said under his breath, “and what have you done with my brother Matthew?”
“Shove it,” Matthew whispered back. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Not even with Phillip.
His brother did no such shoving. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” he went on, “but weren’t you on the verge of personally throwing her out of the wedding a few nights ago?”
“Shove. It.”
“And yesterday—well, she’s an attractive woman. I can’t fault you for sleeping with her. But today?” Phillip shook his head, clearly enjoying himself. “Man, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be so...lovey-dovey.”
Matthew sighed. He wanted to deck Phillip so badly, but the wedding was in a matter of days. “Lovey-dovey?”
“Affectionate. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you touch a woman, outside of handshakes and photo ops. And you never just sit around and watch a movie. You’re always working.”
“I’ll have to log back on in a few hours. I’m still working.”
Phillip looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “You can’t keep your hands off her.”
Matthew shrugged, hoping he looked noncommittal. He touched women. He took lovers. He was a Beaumont— having affairs was his birthright.
Boring women, he remembered Phillip calling them yesterday. Women he took to stuffy restaurants and to their own place to bed them so no one would see that he’d had a guest overnight.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t affectionate. It was that he was careful. He had to be.
He wished Jo and Whitney would hurry the hell up with that popcorn. “I like her.”
“Which her? The fallen star or the horse breeder?”
“The horse breeder. I like her.”
Phillip clapped him on the shoulder. “Good answer, man. Good answer. The movie is ready, ladies,” he added as Jo and Whitney made their way over to them.
Matthew hurried to take the full mugs of cocoa— complete with marshmallows—from Whitney. Then Jo produced blankets. She and Phillip curled up on one couch with the donkey sitting at their feet as they munched popcorn and laughed at the movie.
Which left him and Whitney with the other couch. He didn’t give a rat’s ass for the popcorn. He set his cocoa down where he could reach it, then patted the couch next to him. Whitney curled up against his side and pulled the blankets over them.
“Do you watch a lot of movies?” he asked in a quiet voice, his mouth against her ear.
“I do. I get up really early when it’s warm—farmer’s hours—and I’m pretty tired at night. Sometimes I read—I like romances.” He could see the blush over her face when she said that, as if he’d begrudge her a happy ending. “It took a while before I could watch things like this and not think a bunch of what-ifs, you know?”
He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her onto his lap. Maybe Phillip was right. Maybe he wasn’t normally affectionate with the women who came into his life. But he had to touch Whitney.
They watched the movie. Whitney and Jo had clearly watched it together before. They laughed and quoted the lines at each other and had little inside jokes. Matthew’s phone buzzed a few times during the show, but he ignored it.
Phillip was right about one thing—when was the last time he’d taken a night off and just hung out? It’d been a while. Matthew tried to think—had he planned on taking a couple of days off after the wedding? No, not really. The wedding was the unofficial launch of Percheron Drafts, Chadwick’s new craft beer. Matthew had a 30 percent stake in the company. They were building up to a big launch just in time for the Big Game in February. The push was going to be hard.
He’d made plans to have dinner with his mother. That was all the time he’d originally allotted for the holiday. But now? He could take a few days off. He didn’t know when Whitney was heading back to California, but if she wanted to stick around, he would make time for her.
By the time the movie ended, he and Whitney were lying down, spooning under their blankets. He hadn’t had any popcorn, and the cocoa was cold, but he didn’t care. With her backside pressed against him, he was having a hard time thinking. Other things were also getting hard.
But there was a closeness that he hadn’t anticipated. He liked just holding her.
“I should go,” he said in her ear.
She sighed. “I wish you didn’t have to.”
Phillip and Jo managed to get untangled from their covers first. “Uh, Matthew?”
“Yeah?” He managed to push himself up into a sitting position without dumping Whitney on the floor.
“Icy.”
“You see what?”
“No, icy—as in ice. On your car. And the driveways.”
“Damn, really?” He waited long enough for Whitney to sit up. Then he walked to a window. Phillip was right. A glaze of ice coated everything. “The weather said snow. Not ice. Damn. I should have...”
“You’re stuck out here, man.” Phillip gave him a playful punch in the shoulder. “I know it’ll be a real hardship, but you can’t drive home on ice.”
Matthew looked at Whitney. She’d come to stand next to him. “Ice...wow,” she said in the same tone she’d used when she’d been exploring his apartment. “We don’t get ice out in California. N
ot like this!” She slipped her hand into his and squeezed.
He could stay the night. One night wrapped up in Whitney and then he could fall asleep with her in his arms. Wake up with her there, too. He didn’t do that often. Okay, he didn’t ever do that.
Only one problem. “I didn’t bring anything.”
“We have guest supplies,” Jo called out.
Phillip stood up straight and looked Matthew over. “Yeah, we probably still wear the same size.”
“Stay,” Whitney said in a voice that was meant only for him. “Stay with me. Just for the night. Call it...an early Christmas present.”
It really wasn’t an argument. He couldn’t drive home on ice and honestly? He didn’t want to. Suddenly he understood why Phillip had always preferred the farmhouse. It was warm and lived-in. If Matthew went back to his apartment— monster huge, as Whitney had noted, and completely devoid of holiday cheer—and Whitney wasn’t there with him, the place would feel...empty.
Lonely.
It’d never bothered him before. But tonight he knew it would.
“I’ll need to log on,” he told everyone. “We still have a wedding to deal with.”
“Of course,” Jo said. She was smiling, but not at him. At Whitney. “You do what you need to do.”
Matthew spent an hour answering the messages he’d ignored. Whitney had gone up to read so she wouldn’t distract him from his work. He knew he was rushing, but the thought of her in his room again—well, that was enough to make a man hurry the hell up.
When he opened his door, the fire was blazing in the hearth, and Whitney was in bed. She looked...perfect. He couldn’t even see Whitney Wildz when he looked at her anymore. She was just Whitney.
The woman he wanted. “I was waiting for you,” she told him.
“I’ll make it worth the wait.” Then she lifted up the covers and he saw that she was nude.
Thank God for ice.
Thirteen
The day of the bachelorette party came fast. Whitney got to stay on the farm for a couple of days, which should have made her happy. She was able to work with Jo and some of the many horses on the farm—Appaloosas, Percherons and Sun, the Akhal-Teke. Phillip treated her like a close friend and the staff on the farm was the definition of discreet and polite at all times. They made cookies and watched holiday shows. Even the farm manager, an old hand named Richard, took to calling her Whit.
By all rights, it should have been everything she wanted. Quiet. Peaceful. Just her and a few friends and a bunch of horses. No cameras, no gossips, no anything having to do with Whitney Wildz. Except...
She missed Matthew.
And that wasn’t like her. She didn’t miss people. She didn’t get close enough to people to miss them when they went.
Well, that wasn’t true. She’d missed the easy friendship with Jo when Jo had hitched her trailer back up to her truck and driven on to the next job.
But now, after only two days without him, she missed Matthew. And she shouldn’t. She just shouldn’t. So he’d made love to her that night, rolling her onto her stomach to do things to her that still made her shiver with desire when she thought about them. And so she’d woken up in his arms the next morning and they’d made love so sweetly that she still couldn’t believe she hadn’t dreamed the whole thing.
How long had it been since she’d woken up with a man in bed? A long time. Even longer since the man in question had made love to her. Told her how beautiful she was, how good she was. How glad he was that he’d stayed with her.
It was a problem. A huge one. This was still a temporary thing, a Christmas fling that would end with the toss of the bridal bouquet. If she were lucky, she’d get Christmas morning with him. And that’d be it. If she missed Matthew now, after just a couple of good days, how bad off would she be when she went home? When she wouldn’t have to wait another day to see him?
How much would she miss him when she wasn’t going to see him again?
It’d hurt to watch him get into his car and slowly drive away. He’d offered to let her come with him, but she’d refused. She was here for Jo and, anyway, Matthew had things he needed to do. Weddings to manage, PR debacles to control. Just another reminder of how far apart their lives really were.
To her credit, Jo hadn’t said much about the sudden relationship. Just, “Are you having a good time with Matthew?”
“I am,” Whitney had said truthfully. Although fun seemed as if it wasn’t strong enough of a word. Fun was a lovely day at an amusement park. Being with Matthew? It was amazing. That was all there was to it. He was amazing.
“Good.” That was all Jo said about it.
Now, however, Whitney and Jo were driving in to the Pub to meet the other women in the wedding party. Matthew would be out with Phillip and all their brothers—bowling, of all things. Although Whitney wasn’t sure if that was one of those fake activities Matthew had planned to keep the paparazzi guessing.
Whitney kept her hat on as the hostess showed them back to the private room. There were already several other women there, as well as a small buffet laid out with salads, burgers and fries. Matthew, Whitney thought with a smile as she took off her hat and sunglasses. Maybe he did know Jo better than she thought.
“Hi, all,” Jo said. “Let me introduce—”
“Oh, my God, it’s really you! You’re Whitney Wildz!” A young woman with bright red hair came rushing up to Whitney. In the brief second before she grabbed Whitney by the shoulders, Whitney could see the unmistakable resemblance to both Matthew and Phillip—but especially Matthew. The red hair helped.
“You really are here! And you know Jo! How do you know Jo? I’m Frances Beaumont, by the way.”
“Hi,” Whitney tried out. She’d known this was going to happen—and today was certainly a more controlled situation than normal. She had Jo and there were only a few women in the room. But she’d never really mastered the proper response to rabid fans.
“Yes, as I was saying,” Jo said in a firm voice as she pried Frances’s hands off Whitney’s shoulders, “this is Whitney Maddox. She’s a horse breeder. I know her because we’ve worked horses together.” She tried to steer Frances away from Whitney, but it didn’t work.
“You’re really here. Oh, my God, I know you probably have this happen all the time, but I was your biggest fan. I loved your show so much and one time Matthew took me to see you in concert.” Before Whitney could dodge out of the way, Frances threw her arms around her and pulled Whitney into a massive hug. “I’m so glad to meet you. You have no idea.”
“Um...” was all Whitney could get out as her lungs were crushed. Frances was surprisingly strong for her size. “I’m getting one.”
“Frances,” Jo said, the warning in her voice unmistakable. “Could you at least let Whitney get her coat off before you embarrass yourself and go all fangirl?”
“Right, right! Sorry!” Frances finally let go. “I’m just so excited!” She pulled out her cell phone. “Can I get a picture? Please?”
“Um...” Whitney looked around, but she found no help. Jo looked pissed and the other women were waiting for her to make a decision. She was on her own here. What would Matthew do? He’d manage the message.
“If you promise not to post it on social media until after the wedding.” She smiled at how in control that sounded.
“Of course! I don’t have to post it at all—this is just for me. You have no idea how awesome this is.” She slung her arm around Whitney’s shoulders and held the camera up overhead before snapping the selfie. “That is so awesome,” she repeated as she approved the picture. “Can I send it to Byron and Matthew? We always used to watch your show together.”
“I’ve already met him. Matthew, that is.” Suddenly, she was blushing in an entirely different way. And there was no hiding from it, since everyone i
n the room was staring at her.
Another woman stood up. “You’ll have to excuse Frannie,” this woman said with a warm smile. She looked nothing like a Beaumont, but beyond that, she was holding a small baby that couldn’t be more than a month old. “She’s easily excitable. I’m Serena Beaumont, Chadwick’s wife. It’s delightful to meet you.” She shifted the baby onto her shoulder and held out a hand.
“Whitney.” She didn’t have a lot of experience dealing with babies, but it had to be safer than another hug attack from Frances. “How old is your baby?”
“Six weeks.” Serena smiled. She turned so that Jo and Whitney could see the tiny baby’s face. “This is Catherine Beaumont.”
“She’s adorable.” She was actually kind of wrinkly and still asleep, but Whitney had no other points of reference, so the baby was adorable by default.
“Her being pregnant made getting the bridesmaids’ dresses a mess,” Frances said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Such a pain.”
“Said the woman who is not now, nor has ever been, pregnant,” Serena said. But instead of backbiting, the whole conversation was one of gentle teasing. The women were clearly comfortable with each other.
Whitney was introduced to the rest of the women in attendance. There was Lucy Beaumont, a young woman with white-blond hair who did not seem exactly thrilled to be at the party. She left shortly after the introductions, claiming she had a migraine.
Whitney also met Toni Beaumont, who seemed almost as nervous as Whitney felt. “Toni’s going to be singing a song at the wedding,” Jo explained. “She’s got a beautiful voice.”
Toni blushed, looking even more awkward. She was considerably younger than the other Beaumonts Whitney had met. Whitney had to wonder if she was one of Hardwick Beaumont’s last children? If so, did that make her...maybe twenty? She didn’t get the chance to find out. Toni, too, bailed on the proceedings pretty quickly.
Then it was just Jo, Frances, Serena and Whitney—and a baby who was sleeping through the whole thing. “They seem...nice,” Whitney ventured.
“Lucy doesn’t really like us,” Frances explained over the lip of her beer. She was the only one drinking. “Which happens in this family. Every time Dad married a new wife, the new one would bad-mouth the others. That’s why Toni isn’t comfortable around us, either. Her mom told her we were all out to get her.”
A Beaumont Christmas Wedding Page 13