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December 2nd
AS COLSON BENNETT GRABBED his steaming mug of coffee from the kitchen counter, he tried once more, to stop fantasizing about her. The pretty blonde he’d helped the day before. Unfortunately, just like all the other times, his thoughts strayed to the nameless woman outside the antique store, resistance proved futile. A real problem considering that he planned to pay her a visit later in the day.
Well, he’d just have to strengthen his resolve. For whatever reason, she had made an impression, but Colson could move past an attraction if he wanted to.
Fighting his thoughts, he wandered through his great-grandmother’s old house. Calling it a house was an understatement. The place was a mansion, really, dating back to the early twentieth century, making it even older than his great-grandmother had been. He went upstairs to his bedroom’s balcony. Maybe the view out here would distract him. It was pretty spectacular, he had to admit. Mislin Bush was located in a valley below the Berkshire Mountains, and from here he could see the sun coming up, burnishing the snow-peaked mountains in fiery gold. In the middle distance was the property’s lake, partially frozen this time of year. He’d probably never get the time to fully explore the place like he had as a boy. The responsibilities of adulthood weighed on him unfortunately, so even taking a few minutes out here on the balcony threatened to upend his whole schedule.
He took a seat in one of the old chairs, sipping his coffee as he watched the sunrise over the mountains. Everything was tranquil, the town’s silence the total opposite of his fast-paced life in Boston. Here, there was time to slow down. Opportunities to help a neighbor. Like that lovely blonde yesterday.
He’d been out on his usual early morning jog yesterday, using his daily run to check out the town after so many years away. But he’d barely paid attention to his surroundings since his mind had been a jumble of thoughts as he’d tried to figure out what to do with his great-grandmother’s belongings. Then, by happenstance, he’d started to jog past a shop with the words Golden Age Antiques painted on the display window. The sight of the lovely woman outside struggling with a Christmas tree had brought him to a complete stop. What were the odds of the perfect solution presenting itself on his first day in town? And the odds of the solution’s owner being the most beautiful diversion?
No. He had to stop thinking about her like that. Those warm brown eyes might have been captivating, and maybe he did want to run his hand through her strawberry-blonde curls, but he didn’t have time for a fling. Perhaps under different circumstances. If he’d come back to town for a winter vacation, he might have thrown himself into pursuing her. But family duty had to be his main focus this holiday season, no matter how tempting he found the curly haired woman at the antique store.
His great-grandmother, Opal Bennett-Stephens, had passed away several months ago and it was time to get her affairs in order. She’d left specific instructions in her will. Her fortune was to be divided among her numerous relatives with her house going to Colson. The will had stated that he could do whatever he wished with the property, and he was stunned and more than a little honored that Opal had trusted him with the task. For one thing, she’d been survived by most of her children and all of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. In total that was ninety-some odd relatives she could have left the house to. Yet, she’d left it and the antiques inside to Colson. Maybe it was because she remembered the summers he’d spent here as a kid. As an only child, there had been no choice but to figure out how to have fun on his own. Hence spending his summers exploring the old house to see if it was haunted, fishing at the lake, riding his bike through town. Plus, he’d even hung out with his great-grandmother. Despite Opal being elderly, even when he was a child, she’d turned out to be a pretty cool lady. She’d been tough as nails but also fair. Quick to laugh, eager to tell him ghost stories, not to mention, she made the best Boston cream pies around. It was a pity he’d never spent any Christmases with her, but his parents had always worked overtime during the holiday season. One final push at the family’s real estate firm before the end of the year.
Colson felt a twinge in his chest, his heart clenching at his memories. He’d been too consumed with work these past few months to dwell on grief. Even during his regular morning jogs, he’d been preoccupied with the next steps—mainly work and handling the legality of his great-grandmother’s death. Now though, out here on the balcony overlooking her property, he realized that he missed her. Worse, he found that he had a few regrets. Mainly the fact his children would never meet Opal. Not that he had children. Colson had always pushed settling down further and further down the road. But now that Opal was gone, it felt like time was gaining on him. Instead of feeling invincible like he had all his life, taking stock of everything made him wonder where exactly that life was headed. With no wife or kids, Colson had guaranteed that his great-grandmother would never meet the next generation. Guilt and regret flooded him.
There were only so many flings a guy could have, he supposed. Most of his relationships were brief affairs. In his world, business was too fast-paced and cutthroat for anything that lasted. Or so he told himself. Easier to blame his dating habits on work demands than on the pressure to bring home the perfect girlfriend. The Boston side of the Bennett family might not have been billionaires, but they were well-to-do. That meant a certain pedigree was required for a partner. Problem was, Colson had long tired of the aloof and sophisticated blue bloods that he dated to appease his family. Which was why it was easy to keep things brief. He dated to alleviate the loneliness but the monotony of dating the same type of woman always led to a swift end.
That lovely blonde yesterday hadn’t bored him though. She had been the furthest thing from aloof. On the contrary, she had been brimming with energy. Down-to-earth and devastatingly earnest.
Suddenly, his phone pinged. Heaving out a sigh, he placed the coffee mug down on the nearby table and retrieved his phone from his jacket pocket. A curt text message from his father. Proof that his father wouldn’t stop hounding him about work. Not even when Colson was supposed to be itemizing his great-grandmother’s life and honoring her final wishes.
Dad: Downtown high-rise is a go. Hammering out final details. Status on Opal’s belongings?
Colson knew what that meant. His father always led with what he believed was most important. Money and power came first. Opal was an afterthought. If his father had his way, Colson wouldn’t have come down to Mislin Bush at all. Definitely not at the end of the fiscal year. But Colson had insisted that he stop putting this off for much longer.
At first he’d considered sending his great-grandmother’s old stuff to an auction house in Boston, but that would have been too time-consuming. A massive undertaking that he couldn’t afford to focus on right now. His life was working at Bennett and Company, the family’s commercial real estate firm. All that back and forth with a big city auction house would just be more work. Which was why finding the antique store here in town had been such a relief. With any luck, he’d already found the answer to his problems. Good thing, too because he needed to get back to as soon as he finalized everything with the house here in Mislin Bush. His schedule would be even more hectic after the holidays, making this the best time to begin sorting through his great-grandmother’s stuff. At least get the ball rolling. Opal deserved that much.
Working on it Colson responded with an equally curt reply. He and his father didn’t do warm, casual exchanges. Everything between them was stilted and formal. Colson: Might have found a solution.
The solution being the antique store. And the owner he couldn’t get out of his mind. An unfortunate inconvenience that he’d find a way to handle. Colson was a professional. Besides, his attraction to her was bound to fizzle out soon enough anyway.
***
COLSON ENTERED GOLDEN Age Antiques, and the door chimed announcing his arrival as he stepped inside. The store had changed since yesterday. He took in the new Christmas decorations. In addition to the wreath on the front door, there were garlands and tinsel hung up all around the store. Plus the tree he’d helped set up was decked out in golden ribbons, silver bells, and other ornaments in various colors.
It was all eye-catching and inviting, and he was particularly proud of his small role in helping put up that tree, but she managed to seize his interest far more than the store decorations. Colson’s gaze cut to her the moment he realized she was standing on the top rung of a stepladder on the other side of the shop.
She was leaning against an antique bookshelf, reaching for the leather-bound books above her. An innocent enough task for anyone, and yet, his eyes landed on the nape of her neck. Her blonde hair was tied up in a messy bun, an escaped tendril of hair falling against the exposed column. Desire surged through him. He swallowed hard, then tried in vain to tear his eyes away. Instead of averting his gaze, Colson followed that golden curl, his eyes lowering. She wore a pencil skirt that stopped right below the knee, the fabric accentuating the curve of her backside. Sweat formed on his brow and he felt his temperature soar. The sight of a woman innocently picking up a book shouldn’t have made his blood run hot like this.
He had to stop staring. Since there weren’t any other customers in the store, Colson cleared his throat to let her know she was no longer alone.
“I’ll be down in a second,” she called, a musical quality to her voice. He found that he liked hearing it.
“Take your time,” he said, tearing his gaze from her rear end.
About a minute later, she finished grabbing some books off the highest shelf and came down from the ladder. As she approached, she started humming a Christmas carol to herself, but she stopped in her tracks abruptly. “Oh.”
Hmm... She didn’t sound pleased. But it wasn’t a bored sort of displeasure. This wasn’t the practiced detachment of an heiress who feigned disinterest to get his attention. She really did not want him around. And she wasn’t trying to hide it either. Her lips had thinned and her eyes narrowed on him.
“Didn’t expect to see you back so soon,” she said, a slight frost in her tone.
Colson couldn’t imagine what her problem was. He’d helped her with the tree. That evergreen would have probably flattened her if he hadn’t been around to lend a hand.
“Tree looks great,” he said, attempting to break the ice.
“Thank you.” She stopped to admire it. Really admire it because her entire face lit up and she smiled. Whatever hostility she’d been carrying vanished in an instant as she reached out to gently adjust one of the ornaments. “Some of these ornaments were made during the second World War. Hand-painted glass. Imagine what it must have meant to people back then. Something as simple as decorating a tree must have been so precious.”
He watched her lovingly adjust another ornament, his heart inexplicably skipping a beat. For some reason, it didn’t feel awkward standing in silence next to this woman he didn’t know. Everything felt right. As if there were safely inside one of the snow globes on the display case nearby. It was a foolish, sentimental notion. But there was something about the store that got him thinking in sentimental terms. Or maybe the grief was getting to him. “I’ve never decorated a tree,” he blurted out.
Her gaze snapped to him then and he noticed she was wearing glasses. They looked retro. Old school cat-eye frames perched on her nose. Very unusual. She looked adorable with them on. And the way lenses made her already huge brown eyes seem even larger. There was a fire in their depths. A flame that turned the chocolate brown to honey the longer he gazed into them.
“What?” she asked in shock. “You’ve never decorated a tree before?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
Sometimes he forgot that his life was pretty unusual. He’d gone to prep schools, graduated from Harvard, and had grown up in a colonial-style house full of staff who did the decorating. As a result, he never saw the point in decorating his bachelor pad now that he lived on his own. The Bennett family home in Boston and the office was decorated enough anyway. And yet, seeing the way the locals in Mislin Bush went all out for the holidays made him feel like something was missing in his life.
“See, the thing is...” He trailed off. How to explain? Most importantly, how to explain without coming off like an asshole? Flaunting his wealth for no good reason was kind of a dick move.
Her large eyes widened, sympathy on her face. “Oh, I’m so sorry. You must have had a difficult childhood. I didn’t mean to pry.”
Yeah, he would definitely come off like a jerk if he told her he’d been too rich to have to decorate a Christmas tree. Plus, revealing his actual identity would just complicate things even more. Status and power sometimes got in the way of making connections, especially when it came to his family. Prestige could be a tricky thing to navigate. “No, it’s fine. My workplace gets decorated every year so that makes up for it.” He didn’t bother elaborating that missing out on decorating had been part of the reason he’d been interested in helping with the tree. He’d never been part of the process before.
He paused, trying to think of ways to get through the sudden awkwardness. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t get like this around beautiful women. Colson was always in control. Smooth, knew exactly what to say. Maybe even a little cocky. Yet, in her presence, it felt like that control was slipping away. Something about her open manner disarmed him a little.
Looking down at the stack of books she was carrying he said, “You sell antique books?”
“Yes. These are early American editions of A Christmas Carol,” she responded as she began to move past him towards a display table near the front of the store. “I’m trying to get all the festive collectibles out.”
“Smart,” he said with approval, following after her. Small as the place was, he sensed that she was a savvy businesswoman. Her genuine passion for history signaled that she knew her stuff.
She set the books on the table and turned to him. Whatever hostility or sympathy she’d been carrying gave way to complete professionalism as she threw her shoulders back and looked him in the eye. “How can I help you today Mr....”
“Colson,” he supplied.
“Ah. Well, nice to meet you,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Blair Hawthorne.”
So that was her name. Blair. Strong, simple, easy to remember, and very beautiful. Like her.
Colson took her small hand in his, heat rushing through him at the moment of contact. His fingers brushed against her. The heat intensified. Blair’s palm was soft. Her wrist was delicate, though she seemed to be the opposite of fragile on the inside. He’d never been so fascinated by someone he barely knew. He swallowed again, stunned that a single, innocent touch could have such an effect on him.
“Good seeing you again,” he said, his heart protesting when her hand slipped away.
“Likewise. How can I help?” she asked again. “Is there anything in the store that you’re interested in?”
Yes, you. He had to shove that thought aside or he’d never be able to focus. “Well, I have a houseful of antiques.”
“Are you an antiques dealer?” she asked, eyebrow raised. “Yesterday you referred to the stuff in here as junk.”
“No. No! Apologies, I didn’t mean that.” He licked his lips. “I’m definitely not an antiques dealer, but some family members are collectors. Anyway, I’m helping to sell a relative’s belongings and I thought this was the perfect place to sort that out,” he said. “Ordinarily I’d go to an auction house in the city but your store’s as good as any.”
She pushed her glasses further up her nose with a purse of her lips, then marched over to the computer at the front counter. Damn, he’d miscalculated. In her presence, Colson found himself being both direct and encouraging. A mixture of trying to be open and honest with her while also showing that he respected her professionalism. As a successful businessman, he’d thought telling her the truth would encourage her. Show her what she needed to improve on or discard while also complimenting what she was doing right. That seemed to have backfired spectacularly. Because she clearly did not like his remark one bit.
“Is that so?” she said mildly. “Do you think my shop is just a convenient place for you to dump your things?”
“I see that I’ve upset you.” He cleared his throat. “What I meant—”
“Oh, no, I’m not upset.” She said it in a cheerful tone, but she was currently pounding the keys on the keyboard. “I understand that we don’t have as much to offer as those big city auction houses.”
“I have a houseful of heirlooms and I can’t keep them all,” he said, refusing to be baited into an argument. As much as this back and forth with her stirred his blood, Colson didn’t want to piss her off. “I’d have to consult with my family about which pieces to keep, but once that’s handled, could you stop by to have a look at the rest of the stuff?”
“It depends.”
He raised an eyebrow, surprised she wasn’t willing to jump at the chance to get some new business. “On?”
“Will dealing with you be worth my while?” Her voice was low and husky when she posed that question.
It was probably all in his head—there was no double meaning in her words. He was merely imagining that the conversation had taken a flirtatious turn. And yet, this time, he kind of did take the bait. “Why don’t you come over and see for yourself?” he returned smoothly.
She didn’t speak for several moments. Then, she relented and waved him over. “Fine.”
He smiled and walked up to the counter, glad that she’d agreed even if she seemed to have done it grudgingly. “Great. I’ll have my family finalize the items they want to keep over the weekend, then I’ll be in touch. How about I call you next Monday with an update?”
“Monday’s good,” she said briskly without returning his smile. “Shall we exchange contact details?”
Colson yanked his phone from his pocket and they quickly exchanged contact information. When that was done, he said a polite goodbye before exiting the store. As he swaggered up to his parked car, he felt like he was back in control. All it had taken was getting a beautiful woman’s phone number.
