Parker’s eyes sparkle with excitement as we stroll along the sidewalk in a charming Dutch-inspired town an hour later, taking in every sight, sound, and smell. All the buildings are outlined in glittering white lights, more hanging from nearby trees and lampposts. There’s a chill in the air, as if it’s about to snow.
At first, I wasn’t sure where to bring her tonight. I could have met her for dinner at her inn. Or at one of the restaurants in Sycamore Falls.
But based on what I’ve picked up from her staff over the past week, she works all the time. Granted, I do, too, but Holley Ridge has become her life to the point that she rarely leaves the property unless it’s to run an errand. She even lives in an apartment on the premises.
If anyone deserves a break, she does.
Plus, I wanted to take her somewhere we could discuss my offer without distraction.
But that wasn’t my only reason for wanting her to myself, even if I don’t want to admit it.
“This is us,” I tell Parker, opening the door to a quaint restaurant attached to a hotel, delicious aromas invading my senses the second we step inside.
“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” she says for what feels like the hundredth time in the past hour. “I would have been fine staying in town.”
“What fun is that?” I reply, then give the hostess my name.
“Right this way, Mr. Reed,” she says with a smile, leading us past dozens of couples exchanging flirtatious whispers and sly glances, stopping at a secluded table in the back corner of the restaurant. It’s illuminated only by soft candlelight casting a flickering glow.
“I’ve heard about this place,” Parker states once we’re seated and the hostess has left. “You’d think living an hour away, I’d have checked it out by now. But this is the busiest time of year for me, so it’s hard to get away.”
“You got away tonight,” I remind her.
“That’s different.”
“How so?”
“Because this is a business meeting.”
“So you only leave Holley Ridge if it’s work-related?”
She shrugs. “I guess.”
“Or maybe it’s because you don’t like giving up control,” I remark.
She opens her mouth, a protest on the tip of her tongue.
“It’s okay,” I interject. “I’m the same way. Occupational hazard, I suppose. It’s difficult to let go of certain things, especially when you run your own business.”
She lifts her lips into a flirtatious smirk. “And I thought we were nothing alike, Mr. Grinch.”
“Are you still calling me that because I pointed out how commercialized Christmas has become?”
“Also because you’re trying to destroy Christmas for the entire town by buying Holley Ridge.”
I start to remind her it’s better than risking it going to auction, but before I can, a server approaches. Once we place our orders, she disappears, and I direct my stare at Parker, the candle on the table reflecting in her brilliant blue eyes.
I’ve always found her attractive. You’d have to be blind not to. Right now, she seems much more relaxed than she has during any of our previous encounters. It could be because she’s able to enjoy a few hours to herself. I’d like to think my presence has played a part, too.
“So why is Holley Ridge so special?” I ask as she takes a sip from her glass of water.
She places it back on the table, then smooths a hand down the front of her dress. The motion causes the material around her chest to tighten, drawing my attention that way.
Which is the last thing I need right now.
It takes a Herculean effort on my part to keep my gaze locked with hers and not ogle her body.
Or mentally undress her.
