Page 11 of The Holiday Inheritance

“Will you let me stay?” he asks, his lips pressed against my ear and then farther down to my neck. “We could watch movies and get to know each other. I’ll cook for you, and you can just sit there and look pretty for me.”

Where the hell did this man come from?

I nod, turning my head a bit so that I can see his handsome face. His age shows in some spots: the faint wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and the salt that’s starting to show around his temples. But he’s gorgeous. Breathtaking, really.

“I don’t think it would be good for my image to shove you back out into the snow.” I grin up at him. “The others would gossip.”

He spins me back out and then pulls me swiftly back in, this time facing him. His eyes are full of mirth at my remark, but then everything turns a little more serious. I think we both realize how much we want this and how perfect this could be. It’s nice to see yourself and your wants mirrored in someone else.

We dance like this for a while, him humming off-key and me laughing when hereallygets it wrong. After a while, he pulls me in the direction of the couch, our bodies spinning until finally he sits and tugs me down on top of him. I straddle him, settling easily into his body. It’s intimate, and I feel him harden beneath me.

He groans and runs his fingers through my hair. I love how obsessed he seems to be with it, always twirling or touching it. “Part of me wishes I had taken it slower with you,” he tells me. Quietly, like it’s a secret.

“Why?” My own fingers play with his hair and then settle where his neck meets his shoulders.

“Because I don’t want you to think that’s the kind of man I am. I’m not the man who sleeps with women on the first date. I’m not a man who only wants sex.” He takes a deep breath, letting out a sigh filled with worry. “Not with you, Florence.”

I nod, massaging the knots in his shoulders. “I’ve always been the girl that gets too attached.” I laugh at myself. “I always had a crush, always chasing a boy. I don’t know what makes me fall first and fast, but that’s just who I am. I’ve learned to accept it about myself as I’ve grown. So to hear that you want to acceptthat we have something here, to explore it and try, it’s a type of validation I don’t think I’ve ever received.”

I should be embarrassed. There’s a part of my brain that is currently screaming at me to shut up. But Briggs looks at me like I have his undivided attention, like he’s really interested in what I’m saying. Like heunderstands.

“Not that I want to run off and get married or anything,” I tease.

“You sure?” he asks, his eyes lighting up playfully. “I have a friend that would do it in a heartbeat.”

I shove him playfully. “I’m sure. I’d like to get to know you a little better first, I think.”

“Well,” he says, shrugging. “I guess I can get on board with that. But I am sorry for one thing.”

“Yeah?” I ask, my face showing my confusion.

“I didn’t get you anything for Christmas.”

I laugh, and he tackles me back onto the couch, kissing me senseless. And I think this might just be the gift I needed.

Chapter Eight

Briggs

The restof our day was spent checking on things around the house. I told her I would do it, but she was eager to learn, so she followed me around and helped where she could. The generators are still good to go, filled with petrol and kept dry out in the shed. Getting out there was anexperience. We opened the door to a wall of snow, and I realized quickly that I am not in as good of shape as I thought.

Ren helped me carry firewood and clean the fireboxes and hearths, and luckily, she found some old men’s clothes hiding away in one of the rooms. The sweatpants are a little on the small side, but it’s better than wearing the same boxers for days on end. She was dressed in these tight, silky-looking leggings, with tall, fluffy socks and a hoodie. Her hair was tied up in a knot of waves, exposing her long neck to my wandering eyes.It’s been a testament to my self-control that I haven’t taken her in one of the many rooms.

More than a few times, she looked over at me, giving me a look that was pure heat. The tension between us is insane. I never thought I would feel something like this, especially so quickly. I don’t know if it’s the low lighting of the Christmasdecorations, painting everything in a warm, romantic glow, or if it’s justus. Justher.

She’s upstairs taking a bath and soaking her sore muscles. Between the rough shagging I gave her last night and the manual labor she insisted she do today, I think she’s a little exhausted. Which is fine with me. It gives me time to clean up the kitchen and cook her a meal. I can’t really take her on a date since we’re stuck here until the plows can make it to us, and with the Christmas holidays happening for the next three days, I don’t think that’ll be happening anytime soon.

There are lighted swags on both of the windows in the kitchen and a warmly lit tree in the corner. I rummaged around in the decorations that Mary left lying out and found a plaid tablecloth and some old candles. They’re not the prettiest, but they’ll do. The table has also been disinfected since our little romp, and the rolls in the oven are filling the room with the scent of garlic.

I decided to make her some pasta. She is a carbs girl, and I love that about her. Because with all the labor I do on a daily basis, I tend to eat my body weight in carbs. So I threw together a little cheese tortellini with a creamy tomato sauce and found Mary’s recipe for her famous garlic bread knots.

Her footsteps fall on the stairs, and I’m eager to see what she’s decided to wear. I told her I’d have a surprise for her once she was ready and asked her to wear her nicest outfit she brought. While I don’t have many options, I did washmyclothes, buttoning the flannel up to the top for a bit more formality, and hoped that pairing it with my jeans would look good enough.

“Should I announce myself?” she calls out as I hear her shoes click against the wood floor in the hallway.

I smile as I stir the sauce. “Probably best!” I shout back. “I have an unblemished record of never hitting a woman. Would like to keep it that way!”

“So? How do I look?” she asks when closer, her voice low and sweet.

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