Page 8 of Take Me Home for Christmas

“Night,” she whispered before hurrying up the stairs.

ChapterThree

Elle always forgothow dark it was in Chances Inlet at night. And quiet. The only nocturnal sounds were the muted chime of the grandfather clock in the inn’s music room and the crash of the waves where the Atlantic pounded the beach a quarter of a mile away. One would think it would be easier to fall asleep without the never-ending soundtrack of New York City at night.

Except it wasn’t.

She’d managed several more chapters in West’s book, but the descriptions of battle and explosives weren’t exactly conducive to a peaceful night’s rest. Hanging her head over the side of the bed, she double-checked that her shoes and emergency clothes were tucked neatly beneath the nightstand. Too bad her nightly safety net didn’t provide its usual reassurance.

“Argh!” She kicked off the covers and grabbed the pile of clothes.

A walk always did the trick. She tugged on her leggings and pulled a sweatshirt over her sleep camisole before toeing on her sneakers. Two minutes later, she slipped out of the secret staircase smugglers and bootleggers once used to sneak in and out of the inn undetected. Her brothers had discovered the hidden passageways shortly after their father began the restoration of the centuries-old home a decade earlier.

Elle loved that she could come and go from the inn without disturbing the guests. Her family hadn’t grown up there, so it felt a little awkward to share the space with strangers when she came back to visit. Her mother and Lamar lived in the carriage house behind the main house. Perhaps they were still awake, and her mom would make Elle her favorite tea. She always knew what to say and do to calm Elle’s racing mind.

The carriage house was dark, however. Elle glanced at her phone.

10:40.

Breakfast came early at the B & B. No doubt her mother was fast asleep. A walk would have to do.

She sucked in a deep breath of the night air, tasting the salt from the nearby ocean. Her feet were moving before her brain registered the route. Several of the houses in town were already decorated for the holidays. Though she suspected Mr. McDaniel kept the lights in his towering pine tree up year-round and simply plugged them in after Halloween. Still, the familiarity of the gorgeous big tree with its colorful lights dancing in the night sky was comforting.

Three doors down, the lights were on in the garage-turned-workshop. One of the windows was open to the night air. Elle peeked in. Hayden stood with his back to her, meticulously brushing stain across the top of what appeared to be a table.

The image stole her breath. She was transfixed watching the muscles in his back move beneath his T-shirt as he worked.Lord, have mercy.When had his biceps become so pronounced? Or his shoulders so broad? Hayden had always been fit. His passion for distance running saw to that. Tonight, though, he appeared to be more ripped than usual.

“Are you going to lurk out there all night like some Peeping Tom, Belle? Or are you coming in?” he said without turning around or missing a stroke.

She sighed a laugh. The man had always possessed a sixth sense. She crawled through the open window, where she was immediately greeted with an enthusiastic meow as a cat rubbed up against her legs.

“Nice to see you, too, Beula.” She reached down to give the silver British Shorthair beauty a scratch between the ears. “It looks like life has been treating you well.”

Hayden snorted. “She’s a skilled con artist, this one. She managed to convince my aunt she hadn’t been fed today and got herself a second dinner.”

Beula swished her tail smugly. Hayden dropped the brush in a bucket and wiped his hands on a towel. Elle dragged her fingers over a cabinet that would look gorgeous in one of the Tribeca lofts her brother designed. The rest of the workshop was filled with equally beautiful furniture.

“You’ve been busy,” she remarked.

“You didn’t come crawling through my window this late at night to do inventory, Elle. What gives? Are you still having trouble sleeping? I promise you’re safe here,” he reassured her gently.

This was why the man was her best friend. He got her. At first, Jeremy—the guy she once thought she was going to spend the rest of her life with—made fun of her nighttime idiosyncrasies. Then he’d belittled her about them, telling her she needed to grow up.

Easy for him to say. He hadn’t been woken up by a 6.9 earthquake in the middle of the night. He hadn’t been stranded in Croatia for days with nothing but the camisole and shorts she’d worn to bed. No shoes. No phone. That wasn’t an experience one got over quickly. Her quirk about needing to be able to grab her clothes and shoes at a moment’s notice was her way of coping.

Except that wasn’t what had kept her tossing and turning tonight. It was the need for a long overdue conversation. She sucked in a breath before she turned to face him.

“Actually, I’m here because I owe you an apology. Hayden, I’m embarrassed and so sorry for the way I behaved last New Year’s. It was?—”

“It was nothing.” He waved a hand in the air. “Don’t even think about it. I don’t.”

He didn’t?

She’d kissed him as though she had the right to and practically begged him for more. And that was just the part of the night she remembered. Yet he didn’t even think about it? She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or insulted.

He must have sensed her conflict because his expression softened. “Elle, you were heartbroken after discovering Jeremy was cheating on you. You’d had a few too many drinks. It happens. I’m just glad it was with me who took you home to sleep it off and not some stranger in the bar.”

Well.

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