“Okay. But what are you wearing?” With a gleam in his eyes, he came around the desk to me. I’d gone upstairs to my chilly room and changed into a party dress to wear for the evening, complete with a slit up my thigh, and sweetheart neckline. “I think whatever you have in mind, I’m underdressed, or you’re over.”
“No. I kind of like you just the way you are in your sexy flannel shirt, my personal mountain man.” I playfully undid a couple more buttons so his chest could be on display.
“‘Kind of like’me? Frosty, that’s a tremendous improvement from three days ago. I’ll take it.” He gathered me in his arms and nuzzled my neck. “For the record, I ‘kind of like’ you, too.”
A thrill worked down my spine. “Then I hope you’ll enjoy this. Follow me.” I linked a hand through his arm, and we walked through the quiet lobby and into the Quest by West dining room, where I’d set a single table in the center under the grand chandelier.
Ambient music played from hidden speakers. Ivory tapered candles flickered. And the silver domes I’d placed over each plate gleamed in the light.
“Lilah, you did all this for me?” His jaw dropped, taking it all in.
“Dinner is served. I made us something special. I hope you’re hungry.” A smile tugged at my mouth.
Like a perfect gentleman, he pulled out my chair for me to sit. He leaned and whispered in my ear, “I’m always hungry.” A thrill worked down my spine like every time he’d aroused me. But right now was about a special meal I cooked for him, not about sex.
“What do we have here?” When he lifted the dome from his plate, steam curled up and carried the scents of cherries, seared duck skin, rosemary, chestnut, and butter.
“It’s magret de canard. Chestnut stuffing. Gratin dauphinois. All the delicious food I’d cooked with Pop in his kitchen, made from memory.”
“Is this the exact menu you told me about?”
“I brought the magic,” I whispered.
“You did. Mind if I have a taste?”
“Just a taste? If you want the magic to work, then I expect you to savor every bite and clean the plate.” I winked with a tease.
“Believe me. I intend to.” He loaded his fork with a perfect bite of all three and moaned through the chewing. I delighted in the satisfying sound of his pleasure, this caused by my special recipes.
“Outstanding. My compliments to the chef.” His face smoldered at me like I’d achieved perfection—and in my world, that went straight to my heart.
We ate and talked and laughed. For the first time since the storm rolled in, it didn’t feel like we were snowed in or stuck or suspended in time. But as if this was the way things were meant to be, so easy between us after the past few days.
When a rare quiet moment settled between us as we finished our plates, I asked, “How long have you known you wanted to own a ski lodge?”
The shift in him was immediate. His hands stilled on the fork. His eyes dropped to the tablecloth. Then he exhaled and looked up. “Since my dad died,” he said simply.
I blinked. “Oh, Holden… I didn’t know.”
“I was snowboarding in Courchevel with some friends when I got the call from Griffin, my oldest brother,” he continued, setting his fork down. “It was unexpected. The stubborn fool wouldn’t take time off work to get properly checked out. One day here, the next gone. My brothers and I had grown up and weren’t staying close to him much, except maybe Griffin. But itwas the shock of it all. Like I realized I no longer had time left to spend with Dad to make up for it.”
My fingers fiddled with my napkin in my lap, observing the emotions playing across Holden’s face.
“After the call, I just wandered the streets into the night. I couldn’t think straight.” His eyes drifted off, remembering. “Finally, I ended up passing this tiny restaurant with the most delicious, fragrant smells coming from it. The place was so inviting, like calling to me, offering a warm hug. One minute I was walking; the next I’d stepped inside, taking a table near the back for a late-night meal.”
“What did you eat?”
“I remember every detail, starting with morel mushroom vol-au-vent with truffle cream. Simple. Thoughtful. Balanced in a way that hit me right in the ribs that night. Then I tried the poulet with truffle cream sauce, and the braised beef. Each bite felt designed, calling forth all of my senses from smell to taste to texture, deliberately, as if to remind me that life goes on.” He swallowed.“I dedicated that meal to Dad.”
A shiver lit through me, familiarity taking hold.
“When I finished, I asked who the chef was. I needed to tell them it was the absolute best meal of my life, that it warmed my heart. You know what the garçon told me?” His gaze returned to mine, and he leaned in slightly. “Her name was Lilah Childs.”
“You were in Mère et Fille?” My breath caught, picturing the hole-in-the-wall restaurant of the French Alps, where I’d worked for a short time, and created that exact menu Holden had eaten.
He nodded. “Like a coward though, I left the restaurant before you saw me. I had often wondered about you after your ruined wedding day, if you’d recovered from the disappointment. The serendipity of it all wasn’t lost on me. I thought hell, fate was screwing with me. Because the meal thatmade me want to change my life came from the same woman whose life had been messed up years ago.”
I stared at him, stunned and speechless.
