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I take a sip of my coffee, savouring the delightfully mint-free flavour of the dark roast. Despite my headache screaming for caffeine, it was worth the time it took to figure out the coffee maker instead of making another trek into the village this morning. It is one of those fancy ones that will do everything for you if you have a degree in mechanical engineering so that you can figure it out.
Which I don’t, but desperation can be a great motivator.
By making the coffee myself, I can guarantee that nothing even slightly resembling a candy cane will end up in it.
And more importantly, there is zero chance that Simon Ascot is going to show up here, and every chance that I would’ve run into him at Kay Kringle’s Cup O’Christmas Café.
I should’ve done this sooner.
My reckless actions at the Mistletoe Mixer have solidified my determination to avoid Simon. He is a sexy complication that I don’t need in my already messy life. Which is why saying no to the “date” was the right thing to do. I couldn’t see it last night, but this morning, it is crystal clear.
Double checking the time, I initiate a video chat with Jake. I chew on my lip while I wait for it to connect. I really need the Wi-Fi to cooperate this time, otherwise staying here will turn into a disaster.
“Hey, Mom.” Jake’s sunburned face appears. Both his expression and his tone warn me that I am more excited about this call than he is.
I should be used to that after two decades of parenting, but it still hits me right in the solar plexus. My kids are my world, and I hate it when they see me as an inconvenience.
“Jake! Are you remembering to wear sunscreen?”
“Mom,” he says, rolling his eyes.
“Trust me. You’ll regret it if you don’t.” Before his eyes finish their second roll, I am already inwardly groaning. Berating him about sunscreen isn’t the way to compete with Mexico. He has a father and a brand-new stepmother who can be the bad guys and make him not get cancer.
Searching for a topic change, I snatch his Lego advent calendar off the table. “You’re a few days behind. We could build them together over the video.”
“Mom,” he groans. “I told you I was done with that stupid calendar.”
I should just drop it, but I keep waving the thing in front of the screen. “But you wanted it so badly.”
“That was before I knew about Mexico.”
My smile feels brittle at the edges. Just once I would like something I did for him to be the thing he is excited about, instead of it always being overshadowed by whatever gesture his father swoops in with.
But I can’t tell Jake any of that.
“Are you having a good time?” I swallow hard. I want him to have an amazing trip, of course I do, but I don’t necessarily want to hear about all the details.
A grin spreads across his face. “It is so great here, Mom. I can’t wait to come again. And Julia is so fun. She lets me have whatever I want for dessert at the buffet—”
“Of course, she does.” I can’t stop myself from murmuring the words under my breath, but it isn’t like he is paying any attention to me.
“—I was supposed to take surfing lessons today, but now I’m talking to you...”
“Well. You should go,” I choke out. “I just thought you would want to know what was in your calendar, but surfing is more exciting.”
The exquisite pain lancing my heart is worth it for the explosion of sunshine that bursts from him.
“Thanks, Mom! I’ll tell you all about it next time.”
“Right. I’ll just—”
The screen asking me to rate the call pops up, and Jake is gone. Hot tears press against my eyes, and I force myself to take a sip of coffee instead of giving a one-star review. As far as call quality goes that was pretty miserable, but I don’t think I can blame it on a technical issue.
The urge to throw something surges through me, and I place my coffee cup down hard, sloshing liquid over the rim. Grabbing hold of the Lego advent calendar with two hands, I place it firmly in front of me. Just because Jake doesn’t want to do this calendar doesn’t mean that I can’t.
My fingers shake as I pry open paper door after paper door, revealing the little bags of Lego pieces and the tiny instructional pictures. There is an entire week of unopened days, and I am determined to do every single one of them.
In the background, the doorbell rings, but I ignore it. Lego isn’t exactly my specialty, and I need my concentration. It is probably just Nolan and Kelsey arriving to take the rest of the gang climbing, anyway. Although, why Kelsey would ring the bell is anybody’s guess. You just never know with her.
I rip open the first package, miniscule bits of Lego scatter across the table. Peering at the instructions on the little door, I try to make sense of it. But either I need some reading glasses, or these instructions are written in some kind of ancient and cryptic system used by cave dwellers that are just a metaphor for the real instructions.
How does anyone build this stuff? I shove those pieces aside and tear open the next bag. Surely this one will be easier. I groan as equally tiny pieces spill out, mixing with the ones from the first set.
“Best practice suggests doing them one at a time.”
My head whips around at the sound of Simon’s voice. My expression still scrunched from trying to decipher the tiny instructions. The impact on my brain of finding him standing in the kitchen, when I was sure it wouldn’t happen, is catastrophic. My neurons stutter. I glance down at the Lego then back at him.
“What are you doing here?” My voice cracks. To cover the moment, I snatch another Lego-containing plastic bag off the table. I need something for my hands to do. Something to focus on.
“We have a date.”
A tiny spiral of excitement curls up through my core, but I clamp down on it. “I cancelled.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you here?” The pitch of my voice rises rapidly. I need Simon to leave, or he is going to witness an epic meltdown. Everything feels wrong with Jake in Mexico, my girls at the ski hill, and Simon here at the cabin. He shouldn’t be here.
I spin back around, my fingers scrabbling at the pieces. They are all mixed up, reflecting perfectly how I feel. But if I can just get them built, then things will be fine. I will be able to face the rest of Christmas.
Simon places a hand on mine to stop their frantic motion. “I can help.”
“Help with what? He already married Julia.” The words hang on the air. My own shock is mirrored in Simon’s eyes. Apparently, I haven’t made any progress in working through the Greg remarrying situation. I close my eyes, biting my lower lip, struggling to gain control of the moment.
“Yeah. I can’t change that. But I’m a pretty talented Lego builder.” Simon’s tone is level and reassuring, like he understands the root of my anguish.
Staring down at the pile of Lego pieces in front of me, I whimper. Just like in real life, I have no idea how to unravel the mess. Before I can begin to work through it, Simon sets a miniature Lego train in front of me.
“I don’t need you to build my Lego,” I protest. I want him to build it with every ounce of my being, but I don’t know how to say that and maintain my last shreds of dignity.
“Maybe not, but I’m here.”
Something in his husky tone has me glancing at him, and the moment our eyes connect, I gasp. The double meaning of his words is reflected in his eyes, and every single thing that makes me a woman is responding to it.
“Nolan is taking us climbing,” I blurt out, trying to ease the sexual tension crackling around us. I wasn’t planning to go, but I am drowning and searching for something to grab hold of.
“Is that what you want to do? Or do you want to build this Lego with me?”
I want to build Lego with Simon. I am not even sure what the metaphor stands for, but I want it. Shifting in my seat to release the pressure blooming deep in my core, I bang my mug with my elbow, sending it crashing to the floor.
Simon steps backwards, and suddenly I can breathe as the tension snaps. I leap off the stool to take care of the mess just as Charlotte pokes her head in.
“Everything okay in here?”
No! Everything is not okay! My hormones are raging out of control, and at my age, I don’t have to guess at what they are telling me. “Yeah,” I choke out. “Simon’s just helping me with Jake’s Lego.”
Charlotte raises her eyebrows, but she doesn’t comment. She doesn’t need to. I know what she is thinking. She is wondering why the hell I am playing with Lego when a super hot man wants to take me on a date.
“Seriously, Ruby? Do you need me to take this fine specimen of a man up on his offer of a sensual date?” Marisol appears in the doorway.
Heat flashes through me, making sweat break out on my upper lip. I glance at Simon. He is staring down at the chaotic mess of Lego, like it is the most fascinating thing he has ever seen. His lips are pursed like he is holding in a laugh.
I snap my eyes back to my friends, heat suffusing my face. “It’s for charity. There is nothing sensual about it.”
“If you say so.” Marisol shrugs her shoulders, but the glint in her eye tells me she isn’t buying a thing I am selling.
“And I haven’t agreed to go.”
“We’re going to be late meeting Kelsey and Nolan.” Charlotte shoos Marisol out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with Simon.
“I haven’t agreed to go.” I say it again at their retreating backs, because if I keep saying it then the universe just might tell me what I should do.
He finishes another one of the items from the advent calendar, setting it beside the first. It is a sleigh and about twice the size of the train. The corners of my lips quirk.
“I don’t think those are to scale.” I fight the giggle building inside me. It feels like one of those manic ones that comes at the end of a really good cry with a best friend, and I don’t want to add that to my list of things that Simon didn’t need to hear.
“I suspect you’re right,” he says softly, catching me off guard with the husky undertones. He captures my gaze, holding me fast. “Come with me for a carriage ride and some lunch. That’s it.”
Suddenly, I am keenly aware of the way his broad shoulders fill the tight space of the cabin’s kitchen. The cinnamon and vanilla undertones of his earthy scent captivate my senses, making it impossible to think this through properly.
I tap my fingers rapidly on the table, shifting my gaze to the ocean outside the window. The surf crashes against the cliff face, sending white plumes of water into the sky.
Simon places his hand over mine, stilling my fingers. Then he gently turns it over, placing something in my palm. I glance down and find that he has completed another Lego piece. This time it is a reindeer, much larger than the sleigh it is clearly meant to pull.
I giggle. I can’t help it. This Lego set is just getting more ridiculous. When I look at him. His crooked grin says everything that I need to know. And suddenly, it all seems so easy.
“I can’t leave you here with this Lego,” he says. “It wouldn’t be safe.”
“Yeah.” My voice catches in my throat. “It reminds me of what I am missing. My kids are what make Christmas. Without them, I don’t want any of it.” It isn’t what he meant, but I don’t care. It is what I feel.
Sobering, he nods. “I get that.” Then he grins. “Alright. One date with nothing overtly Christmassy coming up.”
Another giggle erupts from deep inside me. “You know we’re in Christmas Cove, right? Even the coffee is overtly Christmassy.”
“I guess I have my work cut out for me. It’s a good thing I have an in with the baristas.”
Agreeing to go on this “date” with Simon might turn out to be one of my less advised decisions. It is something Kelsey would do on an impulse, or Marisol would do just to prove she doesn’t give a damn what people think.
But none of that matters, being with Simon feels good and makes me forget.
“Okay.” An entire chorus line of excited butterflies burst into an impromptu dance in my stomach.
“Okay?” He tips his head, searching my eyes as if looking for some hidden meaning in my words.
I should probably take a moment to examine everything and analyze my motive. But I don’t want to. He came here to convince me to go with him, and that is all I need to know at this moment.
“Okay. I’ll go with you. It has to be better than clinging to a cliff face.” My tone is a little more eager than is ideal, but Simon is already fully aware that I am a hot mess, so I am not too worried about the damage to my reputation.
Besides, I am going on a romantic carriage ride with Simon Ascot. I shouldn’t overthink it.
As I grab my coat and purse, I press a hand to my stomach. The jittery butterfly dance is bordering on manic. A carriage ride might be preferable to rock climbing, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it could turn out to be much more treacherous.