Chapter 6

“Go upstairs and get your warmest clothes on,” I told Robin as I herded him toward the front door of the B&B. Matilda was behind the front counter, a book—my book—in hand. She raised her head when we entered, arching a brow our way before she huffed and turned her back to us so she could get back to her book.

“This is the warmest thing I have,” Robin frowned at his floor length, cotton jacket like it had personally betrayed him.

Right.

He lived in L.A.

I doubted the man had proper winter gear at all. “You didn’t bring sweaters?” I blinked, confused. Who comes to Vermont and doesn’t bring sweaters?

In truth, I needed to get rid of him for ten minutes. If I didn’t, there wouldn’t be time to call up my family and ask for their help. The twins were with Mama, so that was easy enough. But if I was going to make my lie believable I’d need all hands on deck.

Christ, why had I told Robin that all the Montgomerys got together every time it snowed? Why couldn’t I have said something easier to accomplish?

I’d have to use every minute I had to make this happen. And even then, I wasn’t sure if any of my brothers would be available.

Trent and Miles probably. I bet they were both looking forward to spending time with Robin. But Paxton? He was a wild card. And those were the only two that still lived inside the town limits. The rest…yeah. I didn’t think I’d manage that. Too many kids to wrangle.

But…Trent and Paxton were enough, weren’t they?

It’d still feel truthful if two of my brothers came.

Yes.

Yes.

Perfect.

“Upstairs you go,” I hummed, gently pushing at Robin’s shoulders.

“But I don’t think I have?—”

“ Check .” I maybe lingered a little too long on his shoulder blades when I gave him another playful shove. Robin laughed, stumbling way more than he probably should’ve. My eyes narrowed, but my worries were diverted to my plan-making the second he did as he was told and began to clomp his way up the ornate wooden staircase.

Halloween baubles dangled from the railings. They glowed softly, though some bulbs were burnt out. Probably because these decorations were as old as I was. Or close.

“What else should I look for, your Ben-evolence?” Robin joked.

“Long warm socks.” I didn’t rise to the bait, though I wanted to. “Gloves. If you can’t find warm sweaters, layer a few shirts. Anything is better than jeans.”

“I’m not gonna find any of that,” Robin laughed, but did as he was told anyway, continuing left up the staircase and disappearing toward his room.

The second he was out of sight, I strode forward, peeking around the bannister to make sure he was well and truly gone before I bolted toward Matilda’s desk.

“If I’m not inside when he comes down, distract him.” Nervously, I tapped on the shell of the wood, leaning over to make sure she could hear me. “Please?”

Matilda very slowly turned the page in her—my—book. She twisted to eye me dubiously over her shoulder, but her lips twitched—which I assumed meant yes.

Excellent.

Speed-walking outside, far enough away not to be overheard, I whipped out my phone. The chill hit, a snowflake landing on the shell of my cheek as I waited at the bottom of the steps, heart pounding.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” Anxiously, my foot tapped on the cobblestone ground. There was an orange maple leaf beside my boot, and I carefully bent down to pick it up, shoving it in my pocket to give to the girls later.

The phone rang.

And rang.

And—

“Ben?” Mama’s voice connected, a confused lilt to it. “Everything okay?”

Of course she knew this was out of the norm. For the last two years, every Wednesday I’d call her up at exactly seven o’clock and let her know I was on my way to pick the girls up. We had a routine.

It was barely five. She knew me well enough to know that I very rarely, if ever, deviated from my routines.

“I need your help,” I blurted. “I don’t have much time, so don’t ask me questions.”

“Okay, honey.” Her voice was concerned. “Is it serious?” She immediately asked me a question.

“What?” I frowned, confused. And then realized she’d already distracted me from my mission. “No. Nothing serious. Except that it is. Very serious, I mean,” I amended. “Because Robin has never been sledding—and I lied and told him that we’d all be meeting at Knoll Park because it’s snowing. That it’s a tradition of sorts. Something we always do.”

“Ben—”

“I need to call Trent and Paxton and get them on board. But I don’t have time before Robin comes downstairs. I estimate I have an hour and a half to get him fed and dressed properly before I can meet you at the park. I need help organizing. Please.”

Mama laughed, the merry sound warming me from head to toe. “Alright,” she hummed, obviously amused. “One question.”

“What?”

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but I was terrified Robin would walk out and overhear what was going on.

“Why did you lie to him?” she asked. I didn’t have time to lie again, so I simply told her the truth. Because she’d always been my closest confidant, and if there was anyone in the world I had no walls up with—okay, one wall, singular—it was my mama.

“I couldn’t just ask him to go alone with me. Baby steps. I need to take baby steps. I don’t want him to scare him off. I need to acclimate him to my presence.” Never mind the fact that we’d been alone for most of the day already.

What if he got sick of me?

Or I tried to psychoanalyze him again?

No, no. I needed a barrier to protect him from me at the same time I got to make him smile. He’d said sledding was on his “Perfect Christmas To-Do List”. I wanted to help with that.

“Riiiight.” I could practically see her grin through the phone.

“And besides—he’s here to spend time with his family. He’ll be more comfortable, and more excited if he can make memories with them too. I don’t want to take that from him.”

I just…want to be there too.

To see him light up.

To share that first with him.

“That’s very… thoughtful of you.” Mama’s tone made it clear she was surprised I was using my “thoughtfulness” on Robin—a stranger.

“Please?” I begged again, glancing toward the front door and the yellow stained glass that lit up from the inside, worried I’d see Robin’s figure approaching. “Bring the girls. An hour and a half. Knoll Park.”

“If you’ll read the books I bought you.”

Oh Jesus Christ.

This again?

“Fine.” I gave in because what choice did I have? Robin’s Christmas was on the line. If she was surprised she didn’t say, simply promised me she’d call around and get as many of my brothers involved as she could, before hanging up.

I loped back up the steps and shoved the door open—relieved when I made it just in time to watch Robin thud his way back down the stairs. I suppose with boots like those he probably didn’t need long socks, but he looked incredibly proud of himself as he paused at the top of the stairs and pointed at his feet.

“Two pairs of socks, motherfucker,” Robin declared, then waggled his brows and hopped down another step. He kicked a leg out, the buckles on his platform boots glinting. “Knee length,” he added, like he was saying it posh like “ cashmere .” Thump, thump, my heart beat as Robin stomped the rest of the way down the stairs looking proud of himself.

“I even found a sweater,” he hummed, plucking at the thinnest fucking sweater I’d ever seen. Thin enough the fabric clung to his nipples and the divots at his hips, his piercings even more obvious than normal.

Jesus fuck.

“Good job,” I praised. It was a joke—to match his joke—but he lit up anyway, his eyes crinkling with delight as he beamed up at me.

Praise kink.

He might have a praise kink.

My head spun.

Stop thinking about his kinks, Ben, and feed him. He looks hungry.

“How do you feel about Italian?” I asked, doing my best not to ogle—and failing.

“Delicios-o,” Robin said in what had to be the most horrible Italian accent I’d ever heard.

“Perfect-o.” I offered him an elbow, like a freak—and instead of staring at me like the weirdo I was, Robin took it with mock seriousness. My pulse skittered as we headed toward the front door, his hand gripping me tight.

He groped my bicep a little.

I pretended like I didn’t notice.

Matilda turned a page in her book.

When we stepped outside I realized—belatedly—just how much snow had fallen. I’d been so distracted on the phone with my mother I hadn’t noticed. Thank god, I’d been standing under the awning or the snow on my shoulders would’ve betrayed me.

I would’ve been embarrassed about asking my family for help like I had, and for lying—but there simply wasn’t room in my head for that right now.

Not when the look on Robin’s face soaked up every ounce of attention I had. Crept into the corners of my head, filling every nook and cranny, my head buzzing, my heart warm despite the chill.

There was barely an inch of snow on the ground, and yet Robin stared at it like he’d never seen anything prettier in all his life.

Like this was one of the world’s seven wonders.

And when he glanced up at me, grin softer than before, a private, giddy thing, I decided right then and there that I would make him smile like that as many times as I possibly could before he went back home, my dignity and dislike of the holidays be damned.