“I’m peachy,” I muttered, glaring at the bed.
The fourth corner went on easier, probably because I was motivated by spite at that point. When I finally stepped back to admire my work, the fitted sheet was on the bed. It wasn’t smooth or particularly neat. There were wrinkles everywhere and one corner looked suspicious, like it might pop off if someone breathed on it too hard. But it was technically on the bed.
“Not bad for a first attempt,” Brom said generously, though his own bed looked like luxury while mine looked like a drunk person had made it. Which wasn’t far from the truth, considering the wine I’d had with dinner.
The flat sheet was easier, though I managed to put it on upside down the first time. I didn’t see the difference, but Brom insisted the wider hem went at the top, which seemed like information that should be common knowledge but apparently wasn’t taught in expensive boarding schools.
By the time we finished the pillowcases—which I put on inside out twice before getting it right—I was sweating despite the cold.
“How many more rooms do we need to make up?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“Eight,” he replied. “Those are just double beds.”
I groaned but I had asked for this. I got to work, figuring it out as I went.
What had gotten into me? If my brothers could see me now, I would never hear the end of it. The worst part was that Ifound myself humming “Little Drummer Boy” the entire time, completely unconsciously.
I was putting the finishing touches on the last room when I sensed someone watching me. I looked up to find Sylvie leaning against the doorframe, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
“This might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said, holding up her hands and pretending to take a picture of me. “Kent Bancroft, domestic god.”
I grinned and crossed the room to her, pulling her into my arms for what I had intended to be a quick kiss but turned into something deeper, more lingering. She tasted like wine and Christmas cookies. The way she melted against me made my heart soar.
“This might be the best night of my life,” I said against her lips.
“It better be because it’s definitely mine.”
I kissed her again.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” she said.
“Oh?”
“I love you.”
I cupped her face in my hands and just looked at her. Really looked. She looked radiant, happy in a way that made her practically glow.
“Say it again,” I said.
“I love you, Kent Bancroft,” she said. “I love that you drove in a snowstorm just to invite a lonely old man to dinner. I love that you’re up here making beds instead of letting someone else handle it.”
She paused, her thumbs brushing across my cheekbones.
“I love that you chose us. That you chose me. Even when it cost you everything else.”
I kissed her again, pouring all of my gratitude and wonder and absolute devotion into the connection between us.
“I’d choose you again,” I murmured against her forehead. “Every time, in every life, I’d choose you.”
CHAPTER 69
SYLVIE
The lodge felt exactly like it had five years ago during our peak busy season. I couldn’t stop grinning as I watched the controlled chaos unfold around me. Every single room was filled with guests who’d been snowed in by the storm. Instead of feeling overwhelmed by the sudden influx, we were all energized in a way I hadn’t experienced in months.
Stacy and I were stationed behind the front desk, directing guests to their newly prepared rooms and explaining the amenities—where to find extra towels, how the vintage heating system worked, and which rooms had the best views of the Christmas light display outside.
It was a flashback to the old days when we would be so busy at the front desk we couldn’t even take time for lunch breaks. We would snack on whatever we could get our hands on in between check-ins.
