Page 8 of Christmas with the Billionaire
I must’ve hit my head pretty hard if I’m more concerned with this man touching me instead of worrying about the situation we’ve found ourselves in. Thankfully, I’m the only one who has these fuzzy, fever-dream thoughts filling my mind.
“You mentioned a rental,” Charles starts once he wraps up his attention on his device.
Officer O’Malley lets out a short, almost pitying laugh. “With this weather and the holiday? Every rental from here to the city is spoken for. That’s why I’m stopping here.” He pulls up in front of a charming, brick building with a wooden sign that readsThe Snowcap Inn. A warm, golden light glows from its windows. “Just in case you need a place to stay. And the way this is coming down?” He glances back at us in the rearview mirror. “You’re gonna need to stay.”
I sneak a look at Charles. A muscle ticks in his jaw, his expression controlled annoyance. But interestingly, he doesn’t look stressed. There’s no panic in his eyes, just a simmering irritation at the derailment of his plans.
As the officer lets us out and wishes us the best of luck, he takes down Charles’ number in case it’s needed regarding the vehicle.
Once we’re standing under the inn’s awning with nothing but our luggage, watching Officer O’Malley’s taillights disappear into the white, Charles lets out a long, slow breath that plumes in the frigid air. “I didn’t even want to go to this thing,” he admits, his voice low, almost to himself.
The guilt is immediate and sharp. Maybe, if I hadn’t jumped at the opportunity to see him again, to be near him, then he could’ve flown. Could’ve avoided this whole mess.
“Sorry.” The word leaves my lips without thinking.
That snaps him out of his thoughts. He turns to me, his intense gaze pinning me in place. As his brows push together, I can’t help but squirm beneath the weight of his stare.
“Ellie,” he says, my name a soft command on his lips. “You have nothing to apologize for. This,” he gestures to the snow, the inn, “is just how it is. It’s not your fault.” He reaches out, his hand finding my elbow, his thumb brushing a soft line against the inside of my arm. “We’re just going to take this one step at a time.”
Standing there in the swirling snow, with his hand on my arm and a day I never expected stretching out before us, I can only nod. One step at a time. I can do that.
5
Charles
I’m not going to look into a rental. One accident was more than enough. I can’t risk something happening to Ellie while the snow is still falling.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it. My assistant isn’t having fun working on the day before Christmas, but all I asked her to do was send a simple message to the organizers letting them know I won’t be attending their gala.
From the constant vibrations, I suppose it’s not as simple as I thought.
The Snowcap Inn is a pleasant, warm respite from the freezing temperatures outside. A massive stone fireplace dominates the room, the fire within it roaring as it devours a small fortune in logs, the heat hitting my face in a welcoming wave of warmth. The scent of woodsmoke and oak wraps around us, a stark contrast to the sterile, frozen air outside.
I guide Ellie further in, my hand a firm, steady pressure on the small of her back. A quick scan of the room confirms it’s as quiet as it looked from the street. The front desk is deserted, with a single, tarnished bell resting on the polished wood.
I ring it, the sharp ping cutting through the comfortable silence. The sound feels like a gamble. The last thing I need is to drag her back out into that blizzard, to see the hope in her eyes snuff out.
“Do you think they’ll still have rooms?” The question escapes her, and I catch the way she’s chewing on her bottom lip with nerves. “We really picked the best time to need a place to stay.”
Only my spectacularly bad luck—or perhaps a twisted sense of fate—could have me stranded in a postcard-perfect town with the woman who stole my heart during our youthful years, all during the one holiday used in so many sappy romance media.
Before I can form a reply, a man emerges from a back room. He’s tall, built like he chops the firewood himself, with a face that looks like it was carved from stone and forgotten how to smile. His scowl isn’t directed at us; it seems to be his face’s permanent state of rest. He is, without a doubt, the most unwelcoming innkeeper I have ever laid eyes on.
And yet, a cynical certainty settles in my gut. A man who glares like that isn’t overrun with festive bookings.
“Sebastian,” I read off the simple brass nametag pinned to his flannel shirt. My wallet is already in my hand, a preemptive strike before Ellie can even think of reaching for her money. “We need a room for a couple of nights. Through Christmas, if you have something.” My voice is all business, an attempt to mask the sheer, desperate need behind the request.
He looks between us, his gray eyes asserting. Once he’s made up whatever internal decision is happening in there, he accepts my card, his nose crinkling slightly at what I offer him.
Sneaking a glance at Ellie, I catch her looking around the inn in amazement. It’s not fancy in the slightest, but she sees past that.
Returning my card, Sebastian drifts away to pluck out a key. “Bathroom is shared, the door is on the left. Clean up after yourself.”
I grimace, but bite back my words. We have a room. We are safe. She is warm. That is all that matters. This is fine. More than fine.
Sliding a key with a number, he jerks his chin in the direction of a set of stairs. “We offer breakfast in the morning. That’s it. Enjoy your stay.”
I share a glance at Ellie, and I’m sure we’re thinking the same about this guy. Despite his straightforwardness, I thank him and lead her toward the stairs, my hand returning to its place on her back, claiming the excuse to touch her again.
