No surprise, her thoughts slipped back to Marshall Hampton, the man she was…could they call it dating? They’d made a gingerbread house together, they’d kissed—a decent amount—and he’d been her plus-one at Aunt Cindy’s wedding two days ago.
They texted like teenagers, couldn’t stop smiling when they were together, and had already talked about the possibility of combining their competing bakery businesses in Park City.
Yes, this was…something. She could not wait to find out what.
The house appeared between aspens—modern but warm, all stone and timber nestled into the hillside. Big windows caught the noon light like silver mirrors, the whole vibe perfectly understated but wealthy, just like the former NFL running back who owned the home.
Gracie had dropped Benny off here before, but only exchanged quick hellos and goodbyes from the driveway. Today, she felt invited and welcome, and her heart had been fluttering since breakfast even though they were just there to drop off Olivia’s Christmas present.
Olivia opened a front door that was three times her size with a huge smile and an excited wave.
Behind her, a brindle border collie—the dog named Kat—trotted out, probably sensing her buddy Newt was in the car.
Olivia’s espresso braids had recently been redone, falling in lovely cascades over her narrow shoulders, the style accentuating her big brown eyes. She looked like a miniversion of her father right there, with rich dark skin and more confidence than Gracie could imagine having at eleven. Atanyage.
“Benny!” she called, prancing onto the spacious front porch in snowflake Christmas socks. “We got fresh snow! We can finally have our epic battle!”
“Do we have time, Mom?” Benny asked, clutching the bag and letting Newt run free up the stairs.
“We have a little bit of time before I have to get to work,” she said, “and these guys have to go to the airport.”
“It’s fine,” Olivia said, gathering Newt in her arms. “My dad said he wanted to talk to you about something, Miss Gracie.”
He did? Gracie hoped that “something” was another date. And maybe it would involve another few kisses because…
She closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh. All she wanted to do was kiss that man.
She hung back a few seconds, taking a deep and steadying breath while the dogs barked, circled, and sniffed, then climbed the stairs.
“Are you excited about a trip to California, Olivia?”
The little girl froze, crossed her eyes, stuck out her tongue, and fisted her hands next to her face to show nothing but total disgust. Then it all disappeared into a sweet smile.
“I can’t wait!” she exclaimed with undeniable eleven-year-old sarcasm.
“You’ll go to the observatory, of course,” Benny said, sarcasm missed. “I mean, I would on the first day.”
“The observatory?” she scoffed. “Have you met my mom? No, of course you haven’t. The only thing she observes is herself. I’m sure we’ll hit Rodeo Drive, though.”
“It’s pronouncedro-dee-o, Olivia, not ro-day-o,” Benny corrected, looking a little smug because one-upping his fellow genius and best friend was a rare opportunity, indeed.
She looked at Gracie and executed yet another eyeroll. “Gotcha. Come on in.”
Before Gracie took another step, Marshall appeared behind his daughter, one arm braced against the doorframe. He looked maddeningly relaxed in a soft gray sweater and jeans, his eyes easy and warm as he looked at Gracie.
There was just a hint of invitation in their dark depths, enough to keep her pulse a few beats too fast.
“Welcome to Chez Hampton,” he joked, waving Benny in and reaching for Gracie’s hand. “Not one word about the lack of a Christmas tree, please.”
“You don’t have a tree?” Benny stopped mid-step, looking up. “It’s after Thanksgiving.”
Olivia laughed. “What can I say? He’s a rule-follower, Dad.”
“I like that about you, Ben.” He gave Benny a high-five, and then a secret, sexy wink to Gracie that darn near melted her on the front stairs. He always called him “Ben,” which Gracie knew her son loved because it made him feel like Marshall’s peer.
Inside, she stepped out of her wet boots and glanced around the formal entryway—hardwood floors, an Oriental rug that probably cost more than her car, and no place for boots.
“We never use this door,” Marshall said, seeing her dilemma as he lifted her boots from the floor. “Come to the kitchen where it’s warm and there’s coffee, tea, and a mudroom.”
