Leaving downtown Sycamore Falls behind me, I follow a dirt path through towering trees and onto Holley Ridge, the farmhouse-style inn soon coming into view. The white siding and dark wood trim contrasts with the deep green wreaths looped across the door and windows, a few of my employees standing on ladders, hanging white lights along the roof.
I continue past the inn, admiring the stunning view of snowcapped mountains reflecting in the lake along with the towering Norway spruce that’s served as the centerpiece of the annual Holley Christmas Festival longer than I’ve been alive.
The sound of hammers hitting nails echoes around me. The entire Sycamore Falls Fire Department is currently constructing the North Pole area where kids will soon be able to meet Santa. A lump forms in my throat over the idea that this may be the last year I’ll be able to watch this amazing transformation. But I can’t think like that. Iwillfind a way to save this place.
Pushing out a long sigh, I turn from the lakeside path and climb onto the back veranda of the inn, slipping into the high-ceilinged lobby. The instant I do, I’m meet with warmth.
And an older woman perched on a stool in the lobby lounge, a pair of binoculars pressed to her face.
“Are you bird watching again?” I ask as I sidle up to Grandma Estelle.
While she’s not technically anyone’s grandma — she has no family to speak of and never married — most locals call her Grandma Estelle, especially at Holley Ridge. She worked here when this was still a working ranch, teaching young kids how to ride horses. Hell, she taughtmehow to ride. Now, she helps at the inn doing whatever I need her to.
“I thought they all flew south for the winter.”
“Not bird watching, Parker. Man watching.” Her eyes crinkle from behind the binoculars, her lips curving into a devious grin. “Would you look at those muscles. I bet he’s got a great ass. God bless the Sycamore Falls Fire Department.”
“Estelle!” I exclaim, glancing around to make sure no guests are near enough to overhear.
“Speaking of great asses…,” she continues, not looking away from her binoculars. “There’s someone here to see you. A rather attractive male with what appears to be a great behind.”
“Who?”
“Don’t know.”
“What does he want?”
“Don’t know,” she repeats.
“Where is he? Or do you not know that, either?”
“That I do know. He’s in your office. He’ll be the one in the suit that looks like it was tailor made to his sexy bod.”
I roll my eyes. “If this is yet another attempt to get me to date, I’m not interested.”
“I had nothing to do with this, Parker darling. He just showed up and asked for you. I told him you weren’t here, but he insisted he’d wait.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting back a tension headache. No doubt it’s probably someone from the bank to discuss my outstanding loan. Max warned they may pay me a visit.
“Thanks, Estelle.”
“Hot, damn, he bent over,” she remarks excitedly. “Those boys really need to put together a calendar.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I murmur as I head toward my office, jazz-inspired Christmas music filling the air, lending to the festive atmosphere in the beautifully decorated lobby.
After stopping by the front desk to make sure everything’s running smoothly, I turn down the administrative wing and step into my office. A man stands by the window, studying the construction of the Holley Christmas Festival with a confused expression.
Like Estelle said, he’s dressed in a smooth, black suit, the lines of it accentuating every contour of his built physique, his pants falling perfectly from his hips. The sprinkle of stubble along his jawline only adds to the effect, making me wonder what it would feel like to have his face buried between my legs, scratching against my thighs.
There’s no two ways about it. This man is the epitome of suit porn. The type of guy I picture in my mind whenever reading yet another one of the romance novels Estelle insists I read so she has someone to talk to about it.
“Excuse me, ma’am.”
His deep voice cuts through my fantasies about having his mouth on me. That’s what a dry spell can do to a girl.
I dart my head up, the heat in his stare causing a shiver to trickle through me.
“Y- Yes,” I finally answer, pretending his mere proximity doesn’t have my heart skipping a beat or my stomach fluttering.
