I was making small talk with Mrs. Patterson about her granddaughter’s upcoming wedding when Emmy appeared at my elbow with two glasses of wine.
“You look like you need this,” she said, pressing one of the glasses into my hand.
“Thanks.” I took a grateful sip, realizing I’d been too distracted to eat or drink much since Kent had left.
Emmy studied my face with those sharp eyes that never missed anything. “Okay, spill. What happened with the grumpy old man situation?”
I glanced around to make sure we weren’t being overheard, then pulled Emmy toward a quieter corner near one of our decorated trees. “Phineas showed up drunk and angry, making a scene. Kent stepped in and somehow convinced him to leave.”
“Wait, Kent volunteered to deal with Withers?” Emmy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Like, willingly?”
“More than that. He took a bottle of bourbon and drove Phineas home to make sure he got there safely.”
Emmy stared at me for a long moment, her expression shifting from surprise to something that looked almost like respect. “Damn. I did not see that coming.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, rich city boys don’t usually sign up for drunk old man duty. Especially not with someone as difficult as Phineas Withers.” She took a sip of her wine, looking thoughtful. “That’s actually pretty impressive.”
I felt a warm flutter in my chest at her grudging approval. Emmy was notoriously hard to impress when it came to men, and the fact that Kent’s actions had earned her respect meant something.
“I’m worried he’s not going to be able to handle Phineas,” I admitted. “The man can be absolutely vicious when he’s drinking.”
“Maybe. Or maybe your mysterious billionaire has more substance than I gave him credit for.” Emmy nudged me with her elbow. “Either way, the man clearly has it bad for you if he’s willing to babysit the town drunk just to make your life easier.”
Before I could respond to that statement, Brom and Stacy appeared beside us, both wearing the slightly frazzled expressions of parents who’d been chasing overexcited children around a party.
“Have you seen Kent?” Stacy asked, looking around the room. “Alder was asking about him. Something about showing him his new Pokémon cards.”
“He took Phineas home,” I explained, watching Stacy’s face shift from confusion to concern.
“Oh no,” she said immediately. “Kent doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into. Phineas can be absolutely impossible when he’s been drinking.”
I felt my stomach clench with worry. “That’s what I told him, but he insisted he could handle it.”
“Should we send someone to check on them?” Brom asked. “I could take the SUV over there, make sure everything’s okay.”
“Not yet,” I said. “It’s only been thirty minutes.”
I spent another hour trying to look like I wasn’t thinking about our rich city boy. I had a feeling I was failing miserably.
I waited on the front porch long after the party had wound down and the last of our guests had made their way home or up to their rooms. The lodge had settled into the kind of peaceful quiet that came after a successful evening, but I couldn’t bring myself to go home just yet.
I was worried. Phineas wasn’t violent, right?
I stood there staring out into the night over our Christmas trees, which were dusted with fresh snow that had begun falling while we were inside dancing and celebrating. Under normal circumstances, the view would have taken my breath away. Rows upon rows of evergreens twinkling with lights, each one perfect and magical in the starlight.
But tonight, I couldn’t appreciate any of it because I couldn’t stop thinking about Kent.
What if old man Withers had gotten annoyed with Kent’s approach and decided to take his cane to him? Phineas might be ancient, but he was still surprisingly spry when he was angry. And that cane of his could do some real damage. He had beaten the hell out of a park bench last year. And there was the incident with a garbage can in his way.
What if Kent had said the wrong thing and ended up on the receiving end of the old man’s wrath?
Or worse, what if they’d made it to Phineas’s place safely, but something had happened on the drive back? Kent wasn’t familiar with these old country roads, especially not in winter conditions. They were covered in ice, full of sharp turns and steep drops, and one wrong move could send a car right off the road.
I should have gone with him. I should have insisted, despite his protests that he could handle the situation on his own. At the very least, I should have made sure he had my phone number in case something went wrong.
Not that a cell phone was going to do a lot of good out here. There were more dead spots than actual service. What if Kent got drunk and tried to drive home? He really could be wrapped around a tree.
