Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

S he’d had sex with Aspen Kennedy.

Oh my God.

Bare.

And loved it.

Holy shit.

What had she been thinking?

She couldn’t dwell on that for long though she was tempted to reach beneath her pillow for her battery operated boyfriend to work out some of the tension he’d left her with.

Maybe later.

Instead, the second Ivy’s eyes sprang open the next morning—long before her alarm had the chance to chime—she shoved aside the dirty thoughts populating her mind and set to work. Wide-eyed, she flicked on the coffee maker, straightened her blazer and hiked up her mistletoe cotton bottoms as she pulled up a stool. All business north of the elastic belt line and all comfy at home otherwise. Including the jingle of her reindeer slipper, which she understood now given she’d met Rocco. And she couldn’t complain about the soft, warm feeling wrapped around her toes.

Beams of morning light broke through the thin fabric of the kitchen curtains. Another sip of go-go juice and she hit the green dial button. Not one to wait, she’d bumped up the time for the rescheduled conference call and hoped Mr. Langley would take her call.

After Aspen left yesterday, she spent the rest of the afternoon finishing the upstairs with the fresh paint and new curtains. Every inch of her body ached from the work and unexpected trip down memory lane. Not to mention other parts of her body.

She patted her hair to make sure nothing poked out. It would take two weeks to get all the droplets of bone-white paint out of her hair. Aspen had been right. It did look like tiny snowflakes. By the time midnight tolled on the grandfather clock, she had no desire to mess with it, opting for an epic swan dive between the covers.

But sleep eluded her. Again. All-night dreams of Aspen interrupted her sleep until she gave up and grabbed her planner.

On some level, she knew something had changed yesterday with Aspen. He’d surprised her with first the sex and then the ice skates and at first, she’d wanted to run far and fast. Yet she hadn’t.

The way he looked at her spurred her into a frenzy of action. Aspen belonged in the past like her ice skates, but that something that had changed between them chiseled at her resolve even now.

Sure sex changed people, but neither of them committed to anything but a little momentary fun. A fling with the past.

She shook her head to clear the trail of thoughts her brain wanted to follow instead of where it needed to be and fast. Getting her next job. And out of Dixen.

Ivy pressed the phone to her ear and waited as Mr. Langley’s secretary patched her through to his office. “I’m surprised to hear from you so early, Ms. Winters.” Mr. Langley spoke with a hybrid accent that bordered between New England and Old-World England as though he grew up between the two. His aging vocals lent his words a roughened edge that could easily be confused with James Earl Jones.

When she met Mr. Langley in person two days prior, his tailored suit, round spectacles and posh office located in the Wall Street sector of New York City confirmed everything she envisioned from his voice. Old money. Except, he had more experience in trading and corporate dealings than acting according to the collection of Time and Forbes magazine covers that adorned his office wall. Like her brother Jon, this man lived for the thrill of a business deal and that was why Mr. Langley agreed to the venture of a small inn for his wife several years back, she’d learned.

Ivy recognized the spark in his eye the second they met. To her, it all seemed very tedious and overwhelming to be in control of so many other’s futures.

“I’m sorry for missing our call the day before yesterday, Mr. Langley. I was in a small accident. Thank you for agreeing to reschedule.”

“Yes, yes. Of course, my dear. Nothing too serious I hope,” Mr. Langley offered with the proper hint of worry. As the senior member of one of the richest families in New York, every reaction he had was probably measured like his suits. All customized to fit each situation.

“Not at all. Just a little scary. A friend was there to help. I’m fine and ready to work. If you are still interested, that is.” She pulled her planner over and flipped to the day after Christmas.

“Yes, yes. Of course. Mrs. Langley is already anticipating your arrival, dear. I know it is short notice but my wife is determined to have the best for our son and his soon-to-be bride this coming spring.”

She eyed her planner and her attention traveled a little further until it landed on her gran’s open planner next to hers on the countertop. December twenty-sixth wasn’t too full. Baking, ice skating with the guests and preparing a large menu for New Year’s. A new set of guests was due to arrive that day too. She had to pray she found someone to take her place or pray Gran returned before Christmas. Maybe she could rope in her sister, Juniper to help out. The second half of the tornado twins lived for planning parties and would be dynamite.

“Hello? Ms. Winters.”

Oh. “Yes. Yes. I was just checking over my calendar. The day after Christmas is fine. Thank you and Mrs. Langley for such confidence.”

Even as the words came out unease took root.

“Your work speaks for itself. It came down to you and one other. You are our top pick seeing as you also know a lot about small inns and bed and breakfasts. We hope we are not taking you away from your family, but we simply cannot wait any longer. My wife and I are planning to give the inn to our son for his wedding gift this spring, as you know, and it’s high time we get on with our retirement.”

“Yes, I remember. It will make a lovely present. I promise to do my best.”

He chuckled lightly. “The wife and I are much too old to care for it ourselves anymore. We have to make the last of our years really count. We want to travel, enjoy ourselves before it is too late and let the younger, spunkier generation take on the workload of the small inn.” For the briefest of moments, Ivy had to wonder if he’d spoken with Gran.

During her meeting Ivy had learned Mrs. Langley didn’t care for the big city—a sentiment Ivy understood all too well the longer she lived in Seattle—and left the family business to Mr. Langley while she worked a small inn in upstate New York.

“I understand.” She briefly wondered if Langley Jr. knew what he was in for with his wedding ‘gift’ or if he would run from inheriting such a grand responsibility.

With that thought came another. Gran wasn’t getting younger and the tiredness she heard and saw in the Langleys tugged at a deeper thought. Was Gran in the same boat? Was she getting tired of running the B&B?

Ivy felt something shift in her mind. As though a deeper voice wanted her to see a larger picture but she couldn’t make out the blurred lines or jagged edges. She brushed it away along with another fanciful thought—what would she do with a place like this? Maybe Langley Jr. wasn’t so bad off after all. And Aspen? Being so close to him again was as though no time had passed between them at all.

She squirmed in place and cleared her throat along with her mind.

Get a grip, Ivy.

She had no business thinking like that. She tossed the idea like an unwanted Christmas present and to make sure it stayed gone she added, “I’ll reserve my flight now and email my schedule to your assistant, Mr. Langley.”

“Excellent, dear. The wife and I look forward to seeing the rest of the plans you have in mind for the inn. Now I’m being summoned to do my part in the Christmas festivities.”

She knew she had to take this job as much for her future as for her bank account. Adding Mr. Langley’s family name to her portfolio would secure client after client for the foreseeable future if she wanted to stay in this business too. Realistically, if she didn’t, where else would she go? What other options did she have? A small-scale B&B suddenly had its appeal.

“Have a good time, Mr. Langley. I’ll see you both then.”

With a flick of her thumb, she disconnected and set about booking her flight. With that done, she emailed Mr. Langley’s secretary as promised. Finished, she poured another cup of coffee and gazed out the kitchen window.

He’d taken the time to clear the ice of snow and she knew those skates didn’t magically appear by the bench. Aspen had placed them there. Soft sunshine glistened its good morning across the frozen expanse of the lake.

What was it about a fireman on ice that made her world grind to a halt and take notice? “Million-dollar question, Ivy Winters. Million-dollar question.”

And now she talked to herself. Great.

Work awaited her and time ticked away while she drank coffee and daydreamed.

She sighed when a cold nose nudged her leg. “Life used to be easier, Max. Why did we ever grow up?” Her phone buzzed and she snatched it up, hoping to see Gran’s number but found Lewis’s instead. “Ugh. What did I ever see in him?” she asked Max as she ruffled his ear and planted a kiss atop his head. She flipped the cell phone over and looked around the kitchen instead. Large glass jars filled with flour, sugar and other baking ingredients sat atop polished cherry wood shelves along the back wall. She ran a hand over the polished wood and the feel of the smooth surface beneath her palms. Something she used to do as a kid.

On summer days as teenagers, Aspen and she would sit here after a long day’s work of helping clean the extensive grounds. Her Gran loved to reward with cookies and their efforts had earned them several batches of fresh sugar cookies and lemonade. Their favorite.

Shuffling through the small trail she’d made through the Christmas decorations that led to the living room, across to the dining room and then back to the kitchen, Ivy took stock of everything she still had on her list.

Firewood needed to be chopped and brought in for each of the rooms. Grocery shopping. Still. She grimaced at that idea. She would rather paint all day and clear snow on the sidewalk so the guests would have easy access.

And the trees. She was tempted to go out to the back yard and cut down a few because she had no idea where she’d get those blasted things this close to Christmas.

She slipped on an apron from inside the pantry door and brought out mixing bowls, baking pans and set to work making a batch of her favorite cookies. Painting could wait a little while longer now that Aspen had helped with the harder projects. From there it wouldn’t take long to string the new set of lights and hang all the decorations he unearthed. “Cookies will help the work go faster, don’t you agree, Max?”

He barked from his spot by the back-kitchen door.

“Right.” Some fried chicken and homemade mashed potatoes sounded good too.

She set about battering the chicken and setting it aside to cook after she made the cookie dough then peeled and diced the potatoes. Next, she set to work on the cookies. An hour later buttery sugar goodness filled the entire downstairs and she sighed with delight as she bit into a star-shaped cookie. Who said you couldn’t have dessert first?

Ivy slipped in a second batch then fired up the stove and set the chicken to fry. Sometimes life deserved some of the good stuff.

The front doorbell rang through the entire house. Funny she didn’t hear Aspen’s truck pull up.

Max raised his head but made no move to accompany her as she wiped her hands and made her way through the dining room to the front foyer. “Great guard dog you are,” she called over her shoulder.

Ivy flung the front door open and froze.

Towering over her was a man straight out of a country western music video with a dainty woman on his arm that was as beautiful as he was handsome.

“Merry Christmas! We’re the Howards. You guys have a wonderful place up here. A little hard to find though.”

Her eyes widened with pure shock and the half-chewed cookie in her mouth nearly choked her.

SHIT. Did she have her days wrong? Couldn’t be. Right? She rushed to the registry table, nothing more than a table with a few drawers and pretty seasonal candles and a hand-painted welcome sign pushed to the side.

The logs. Where did Gran put those freaking things? Why hadn’t she already checked them by now? She flicked open one drawer then the next. Where did her note say she put them? They were usually right here.

Nothing.

Ivy rushed back to the door where a smiling couple waited in the cold. Great, she’d already broken the first rule of hospitality by leaving them on the doorstep. One hand on the door, Ivy clutched the apron around her middle and yanked it off and tossed it to the side. What she had on underneath wasn’t much better but at least it wasn’t covered in flour or worse, at least she wasn’t naked!

A sweet couple –who appeared as though they belonged in Texas rather than a small town in Alaska—handed over several pieces of luggage. “If you don’t mind, please miss. So I can help the lady inside out of the cold.”

“Yes. Of course.” Ivy took several pieces of luggage and stood back from the door.

The gentleman cupped a hand over his mouth, leaned back and belted out a hearty whoop in the direction of the woods.

Okay. That was a first.

Ivy offered a tentative smile at him and gave a courteous laugh when he received several back in the direction of the lake.

“Gotta wrangle the kids somehow. Simple hollering doesn’t work as much.”

“Please, won’t you come in out of the cold?” She stammered her words, wobbly from the surprise.

Kids? She was slightly afraid to ask how many. The wife who looked ready to pop any second, playfully slapped at her husband before they moved past her and stepped into the foyer. “Mrs. Winters, we presume?” they turned and asked in unison.

Momentary dumbstruck, Ivy quickly stacked the luggage beside the small registry desk Where the hell were those logs? “Um. No, well yes, but I think you’re referring to my grandmother. She’s not here right now.” But boy, would she hear about this in epic proportions!

“Sorry we’re early,” confirmed the gentleman with a rueful grin. “The missus here didn’t want to wait,” he continued as he pressed a tender kiss to his wife’s forehead. “We tried calling yesterday before our flight but didn’t get an answer. With the new baby on the way we thought we better get a jump on the holidays, you know what I mean?”

“Oh, yes. Um, I’m so sorry. We had problems with the power. I don’t really know how to say this, though. We really aren’t open at the moment.” She sounded like a heel just saying that and immediately wanted to take it back.

“Oh, please Ms. Winters.” Just as the overly pregnant woman reached out to place a hand on her arm, several smaller versions in various sizes of the older man came barreling through the front door. Boots, Stetsons, Wranglers… all miniaturized for a range of kids, from just learning to walk with the help of an older sibling to heartbreaker territory.

Snow trailed them into the inn and on their tails came a younger version of Max. Except this version competed with his human counterpart siblings in how loud he could howl.

A muffled sound like a car door caught her attention and she groaned when she spied another couple climbing out of a minivan.

“Please, miss. There’s not another place to stay within forty miles and I don’t think I can take another hour in the car with these boys. We do have a reservation. Can you squeeze us in a couple of days early?”

More like four days early. Days she needed. She wanted to play the bad guy, put her foot down and refuse. The place looked hideous and these people wanted to stay here?

Six sets of brown eyes and a puppy looked at her expectantly.

Ivy didn’t have the heart to say no. Stuffing three rowdy boys back into a car would make her a little crazy too.

She pulled a set of room keys out of the drawer and handed them to the gentleman. “You guys can have the Tom Sawyer room. Third door on the right. It’s the large suite for a large family.”

“Thank you, miss.”

“Please, call me Ivy.”

“Mighty obliged, Ivy.” He tipped his hat before leading his family up the stairs.

Ivy placed her palms on the reception desk and let her head fall forward.

So far Ivy Effect three and Ivy zero. She could win for losing, but keeping tally wouldn’t help anyone. Especially her.

A wisp of something caught her eye a second before the deafening chirp of a fire alarm rang out.

“Oh!” She gasped and bolted through the dining room only to skid into the kitchen as smoke boiled out from the edges of the oven. Ivy dove for her phone and punched in the only number she could think of.

She really needed to stop thinking she could do Christmas and give up already.