Page 30 of Hensley Manor
“Mr. Hensley? I have your breakfast.”
Ian answered the door, took the tray, and thanked Benji before placing it on the table. Two steaming mugs of coffee, one light with cream and the other dark, set beside two small plates piled with scrambled eggs, bacon, and leftover blueberry muffins.
“I didn’t have time to bake anything this morning,” Ian said, observing the muffins with a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I was otherwise preoccupied.”
I grinned and grabbed one before biting a chunk out of it. “Still tastes great to me.”
We sat together at the table and ate our breakfast, talking a little as we did.
“The winter festival starts today,” Ian said. “It will go on for a few days. The guests and I will be attending as a group later this afternoon.”
I hid my smile with my coffee cup. “Are you asking me on a date, Ian?”
“Possibly.” His lips twitched. “If I did, what would you say?”
“I’m a bit rusty on the whole dating thing,” I answered, placing the cup down and wiping my mouth. “Even rustier on Christmas spirit. Not sure how fun I’ll be.”
“Think about it?” he asked.
Honestly, the thought of being thrown into more Christmas shit made me want to hurl. But looking into Ian’s eyes, seeing the hope shining in them, I couldn’t say no.
“Fine,” I said, knowing I was such a sucker for his baby blues. “I’ll go.”
Festivals had a lot of food, right? It might not be all bad.
***
It was kind of bad.
We waited until late afternoon to go to the festival. The sun had mostly set, but the clouds that had rolled in made it darker than it should’ve been at that time. More snow was promised, which just made it worse.
Right as we arrived, I groaned at the multitude of Christmas lights, the glares bouncing off the white snow and twinkling in store windows on Main Street. The street had been blocked off on both sides so people walked along the road, visiting booths to browse handmade trinkets. Some huddled around an area where musicians played carols on saxophones. There was laughter, love, and Christmas cheer as far as the eye could see.
I hated it.
It was too cheery.Jolly, as Lance would’ve called it. The thought of my friend made me miss him. I had tried calling him again before we left for the festival, and again, the same guy as before had answered and told me it was the wrong number.
“I’m sorry you couldn’t reach your friend,” Ian said, watching me.
“I’m sure there’s a good reason why.” Even if I had no freaking idea what that reason was yet.
“Would some hot chocolate make you feel better?”
I arched a brow at Ian.
“What?” He shyly smiled and rubbed his gloved hands together, breathing into them and creating a waft of cold air to fan out in front of him. His blond hair was brushed back in that classic style, and he looked too handsome to be real. But I preferred his messed up, sex hair. “It’s chilly out here. And it always cheers me up.”
“Fine,” I caved with a sigh. It was the second time that day that he’d gotten his way.
It surprised me a little when Ian reached for my hand. Surprised me even more when I took hold of it and linked our fingers. He smiled, and I copied the action. It was hard not to smile when around him, especially when he looked at me like that—with a tenderness that made my heart beat erratically.
“You won’t be disappointed. Violet makes the best hot chocolate around.”
His profile was beautiful, just like the rest of him: a perfectly sloped nose, long lashes, and soft lips made for kissing. But it wasn’t just his good looks that had me feeling like a thousand butterflies were let loose in my stomach. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but there was something truly special about Ian. His blue eyes saw much more than most other people did. His long, pale fingers could gently caress my skin one moment and grip onto me the next, making my head spin with the balance of hard and soft.
Walking beside him, hand in hand, an excited tingle went through me, as if my whole body vibrated at his closeness.
“Here we are,” he said, guiding me over to a booth lit with twinkling lights. The aroma coming from the stand was mouthwatering. “Good evening, Violet.”
