Page 53 of Hensley Manor
“Cole, I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.” Ian leaned forward, ghosting his lips over mine. “Maybe it was a dream…or maybe it was something more…but I remember you. A manor in the woods, surrounded by blankets of snow. Us in the kitchen baking apple pies. And I remember your kiss swollen lips and the scent of your skin as I made love to you. Is that crazy?”
Unable to find the words, I could only shake my head. He remembered. Somehow, what I experienced was real in its own way. Ian was proof of that.
He was proof miracles could happen.
I kissed him. We were in a room full of people, but all I focused on was Ian. The feel and taste of him. The scent of pine lingered on his skin, and my mouth trembled against his.
Was it possible to be this happy? Nothing this great ever happened to me.
Ian broke the kiss but didn’t stray far. He rested his forehead against mine. “You’ve burrowed your way into my heart in the short time I’ve known you, Cole Wiley. I want to spend today, tomorrow, and all the days after learning all there is to know about the beautiful man behind these blue eyes.”
“Starting with today sounds good,” I said, as a lump wedged in my throat.
Ian cupped my cheek, glancing at my mouth before meeting my gaze again. His eyes gleamed with the same happiness I felt in my heart. When he kissed me, it was slow and soft. But it had never felt more powerful.
We danced, hand in hand and heart to heart. Nothing had ever been more perfect.
I’d found my way back home.
Epilogue
Four Years Later
Snow fell outside the window, accumulating on the grass and roads. The forecast said six inches were expected tonight and even more tomorrow. Good thing we had everything we needed, so if we were unable to get to town we’d be okay for a few days.
“Is that everyone?” Ian asked, looking over the check-in book.
“Yep. Violet and Glen were the last to arrive.”
“Wonderful. I’ll ask the chef to go ahead and start dinner.”
Ian kissed me on the side of the head before heading toward the kitchen.
Being here was still surreal.
Three years ago, Ian and I were looking for a house together and found a rundown Victorian mansion for sale on the outskirts of town. We had fallen in love with it and saw the potential beneath the crumbling roof and boarded up windows. It had taken time—and money—to fix the place up, but once it was up and running, we moved in and made our dreams come true.
We married in the field behind the manor just days after the remodel finished. The wedding had been small, with only our close friends and family in attendance, but it was perfect.
Lance had been my best-man and embarrassed me during the first toast at the reception by talking about stupid shit we used to do as teens. Ian had found it all too funny when Lance told the story of how I got stuck in a tree at seventeen while drunk.
Once we were married, Ian and I started making plans to turn our home into a bed and breakfast.
There were ten rooms total, with the master bedroom on the second floor belonging to us. In November and December, we opened up our home to guests. For the past two years, it had been everything we dreamed it would be. We had hired a few cooks, a server, and two maids.
Ian made all of the desserts, and I occasionally helped him. He sometimes kicked me out of the kitchen, though, because I had a habit of eating everything before it was ready to be served.
The toy company was Ian’s main job, but he stepped back during the months the bed and breakfast was open so he’d have more time to spend with me and the guests.
“Cole? Is it okay if I make some hot chocolate?” Violet asked. “I can’t seem to warm up.”
Glen stood beside her, his broad shoulders stretching his long sleeve shirt.
“Sure,” I answered. “But I can make it. You guys go sit by the fire and relax.”
Last year, when guests started arriving at the manor for the first time, I had been shocked to see a familiar face. Violet had stood on the front porch, her blond hair pinned back and covered by a purple headscarf, and Glen had been walking up the steps behind her, carrying the luggage. They had no memory of the days in Evergreen Valley, but when asked how they found out about the manor, Violet had flashed a curious smile and said, “It found us.”
Tracy and Jolie eventually arrived, too. And for the second year in a row, they came to the manor for the last two weeks in December.
