Page 12 of The Holiday Inheritance

When I turn around to look at her, I can feel the smile on my face drop. Becausefuck me, this woman is exquisite. The dress she’s put on is a dark red velvet, and it hugs every single one of her curves. Her sleeves are long, and the neckline is dangerously low. She does a spin, causing the bottom to flare out and up, almost giving me a glimpse of her luscious arse. Her hair hangs around her shoulders in waves, framing her round cheeks and hazel eyes.

“Wow.” It’s all I can manage. I’ve thought she was stunning every step of the way, from her being travel-tired to middle-of-the-night sex to waking up on the sofa with me. She’s been stunning…breathtaking, even. But now? Good god. She radiates in the low, cozy light from the Christmas tree and candles.

Her eyes move from my stunned face to the table, where I’ve set up our nice plates, the candles, and the on-theme tablecloth. In a split second, her eyes are watery, and her hand goes to her mouth.

“I wanted to do something nice for you,” I tell her, walking over to where she stands in the doorway. She has heels on, making her just as tall as I am, and I love that I now have even easier access to her mouth. Her eyes struggle to meet mine, and I see a few tears escape. “Hey,” I whisper, taking her in my arms and kissing her on the cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“This is really nice,” she whispers, finally able to look me in the eye. She wipes away the tears and then rolls her eyes to hide the emotions rolling through her. “No one has ever really done this for me. And while I knew you were down here doing something, I didn’t think it would be…this.”

I take the opportunity to kiss her, my hands moving straight to the soft curls in her hair. Nothing makes me happier than this. Just to hold her and taste her, it’s fucking ruining me in the best way.

“Come, come.” I break the kiss, grabbing her hand and leading her over to the table. Pulling out one of the chairs, I gesture with an exaggerated bow that she should sit. “For you, my lady,” I say in the poshest voice I can manage. I grew up in the moors, so my accent is thick and country. The Queen’s English feels like a foreign language on my tongue.

But Ren just laughs, curtsies, and mimics the accent as well. “Why, thank you. What a gentleman.”

“Okay, maybe don’t try that again,” I tease, poking fun at her failed attempt at the accent. Mine was bad, but hers?Woof.

She gives me a playful smack on the hip and then leans back, picking up the glass of wine I poured for her a few minutes ago. Her pouty lips take a sip, and I have to fight the urge to groan. I’ve yet to see what those lips look like wrapped around my cock, and I’m desperate to experience it.

“What’s on the menu, chef?” she asks as I pull the garlic knots out of the oven. They’re a perfect golden brown, and I grab the melted butter to pour over them while they’re still hot.

“Well, I know you mentioned liking a good pasta dish, so I made you a cheese tortellini with a tomato sauce from scratch. And I was lucky enough to find Mary’s garlic knots recipe, so I threw those together as well.”

“It smells amazing. My stomach was growling while I was in the bath.” She laughs, and the sound makes my stomach flip. Christ, when did I turn into a teenage boy with a crush?

“Lucky you,” I say, shoving the nerves down deep as I load up our plates with food. “It’s ready now.”

Once the plates are on the table, she tugs me down for a kiss and whispers, “Thank you,” against my mouth. Our eyes lock,and I swear everything pauses for a second.What a sap, I think to myself. But honestly, it’s okay with me. This woman deserves a man who will be a sap for her, cook her food, and dote on her. And I’ll be damned if it’ll be any man but myself.

Our plates are empty,the sun has fully set, and her cheeks are pink from the wine. She looks gorgeous sitting there with her legs crossed and a glass of wine in her hand. Ren smiles at me over her glass before finishing what’s there. I think we’re both thinking about what happened right here less than twenty-four hours ago. I’ll never be able to look at this table again.

Shit, maybe we should replace it. Thinking about all of my coworkers eating at the table I fucked their boss on gives me a not-so-great feeling.

“Do you have any Christmas traditions?” she asks, her voice pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Actually, yes. Good thing you brought that up.” I laugh. “I normally go to my sister’s. I’ll have to call her to let her know I won’t be there.”

“I’m just now realizing how little I know about you,” she says, giggling. “Tell me about your family. Is she your only sister? What about your parents?”

“Seeing as I met you yesterday, I don’t think I should expect you to know my family tree.” I grin in her direction before pulling her chair closer to me. Grabbing her calf, I place her right foot on my lap and work on the small buckle at her ankle. “Tess is my only sibling. She’s been married for about ten years now. Dom is a great guy, and they have two kids together: Maya and Oliver.”

Her head falls back when I begin to massage her foot and ankle, one of those sensual little moans escaping her lips. “That feels so good. I’m rethinking the marriage proposal.”

I wink at her. “Don’t tempt me, little duck.”

Smiling and rolling her eyes, she continues. “Maya and Oliver.” Her lips form a cute little pout. “What cute names.”

“Cute, but mischievous little buggers. They’re twins,” I tell her, widening my eyes and shaking my head. “I think Dom almost shit himself with that ultrasound.”

“God,” she groans, making a strained face. “Twins are what nightmares are made of. I mean, not that your niece and nephew are nightmares.” Her face scrunches up.

“No offense taken,” I tell her sincerely. “Trust me, they’re the stuff of my nightmares as well. Love them to pieces, but love even more that I can give them back at the end of the day.” I finish my own glass before continuing. “As far as our parents go, they passed away in a car accident a few years back. Drunk driver.”

“Oh, Briggs.” Her eyes instantly lose all their humor, and she reaches out to grab my hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“Still hurts sometimes, but I’m a firm believer there’s something there when we go. NotHeaven, necessarily. But something. And I figure they’re looking down on me right now, hoping I don’t fuck this”—I gesture between us—“up.”

Her smile returns, and it takes some of the sting away. I wish they could’ve met her. Dad would’ve loved her sass, and Mum would’ve just loved that I found someone.

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