A December Bride (A Year of Weddings Novella) Read online

  “I’ll find you a nice one. And I’ll find it today. And I’ll help you get it ready.”

  She gave him a look. “You are delusional. It’s already four o’clock, and the antique stores are closed on Sundays.”

  He crossed his arms, aiming a cocky grin her way. “You underestimate me, Layla. I’ll make it happen.”

  She gave him a wary look. “How?”

  “I’m not giving away my secrets.” His eyes lit mischievously. “But I’m willing to bet on it: suitable sleigh, right here, by midnight tonight.”

  Now she was suspicious. “You know someone who has one.”

  “No, I don’t. Scout’s honor. Now are you taking the bet or not?”

  She turned her face from him, her eyes narrowing on him. “What kind of bet?”

  “Name your price.”

  She stared at the house, thinking. “If you don’t find one, you have to …” Her gaze climbed to the roof. “Do the roofline.” She smiled big.

  He looked up, squinting against the light, then back to her. “Fine. I’m not losing anyway.”

  He pulled his keys from his coat pocket. “Time’s a wasting.” With one last smile over his shoulder he headed for his truck.

  “Wait, what about you?”

  He turned in the snow, giving her a strange look. Then he slowly started toward her. It took all her willpower to keep her boots planted as he came within inches of her.

  “If I win …,” he said, those blue eyes warming her clear down to her toes, “I get to kiss you.” His lips twitched as his eyes slid down to her mouth and back up where they held her hostage.

  Layla swallowed hard.

  With a final look, he traced his steps to his truck, only turning once he reached the door. “And, Layla …,” he said with a smug grin, “I will win.”

  Five hours later the work was going slow. Layla had lost her helper and had moved inside when darkness had fallen. It would be worth the reduced production if only Seth found a sleigh. But as badly as she wanted one, the stakes he’d put on it made her stomach knot. Would he really collect on the kiss?

  Did she want him to? Things had changed since last week on the ladder. They’d spent hours working and talking and sharing. She’d forgiven him for his minor role in the Jack and Jessica fiasco. Then there were those gingerbread cookies.

  And, let’s face it, you’re attracted to the man.

  She still saw him shirtless when she closed her eyes at night. Still saw the rippling muscles of his arms, the sturdy set of his shoulders. She thought of the protective way he’d slipped his arm around her when they’d stood with Jack and Jessica. Despite priding herself on independence, she’d liked the way it felt. Liked the way he made her skin tingle, made her heart shiver.

  Yes, if he brought home a sleigh, she’d let him kiss her. And she’d enjoy it, she had no doubt about that. But every car that roared outside the windows passed on by. And every time her phone buzzed, it was a text from Cooper or one of her other friends.

  Layla picked up the sprigs of pine and berries for the kitchen counter. Come on, girl, you’ve got work to do.

  By the time she finished the arrangements, her hands ached from twisting and cutting. She was placing the pieces strategically when she heard a commotion out front. Please let it be a sleigh.

  She rushed to the front door and opened it. Seth and another man were squeezed into the front seat of a sleigh. A horse-drawn sleigh. The house’s exterior lights shone down on the beautiful animal as he pulled the sleigh across the sidewalk, up the slope, and came to a stop at the precise spot she’d pointed out.

  Layla slipped on her boots and stepped onto the porch, crossing her arms against the cold.

  Seth turned to her, smiling. “This about right?” he called.

  Her eyes ran over the sleigh as she took the porch steps. It was an antique red two-seater, with a sloped back and curved runners. She clasped her hands to her chest. “Seth, it’s perfect!”

  He introduced her to Mr. Stephens, a customer of his who lived outside Chapel Springs. They chatted while he unhitched the horse. Layla admired the condition of the sleigh. Plush red velvet covered the benches, dotted with matching upholstery buttons. The sleigh’s exterior was smooth and shiny with gold detailing.

  A few minutes later Layla thanked Mr. Stephens as he mounted the horse and said good night. Then he was trotting down the street, the horse’s hooves clip-clopping on the packed snow.

  “So it meets with your approval?” Seth asked.

  “It’s beautiful. How’d you find it?”

  Seth climbed down and began covering it with a tarp. “I called about a hundred friends and customers.”

  She arched a brow as she moved forward to help. “A hundred?”

  “A slight exaggeration. Eventually someone pointed me toward Mr. Stephens. He was in my store awhile back, and I helped him out with a furnace problem. Saved him some money. He was happy to return the favor.”

  When they finished, a cold wind tousled her hair, and Layla tucked her hands into her jean pockets, shivering. “Well, thanks, it’s just what I’d imagined. And in great shape.”

  “Let’s get you inside, it’s cold.”

  She wasn’t going to argue. The temperature had dropped since sunset. She kicked off her boots by the closet and moved closer to the fire. She heard the door shut behind her, heard the sound of Seth shrugging from his coat and boots. Then all went quiet except the pop and sizzle of the simmering fire. She wondered what he was doing back there.

  She tossed on another log and warmed her hands. They were shaking. Unable to bear the silence, she looked over her shoulder. Seth was leaning against the door, arms crossed, watching her, an enigmatic smile on his face. The golden glow of the lamplight washed over his face, highlighting his five o’clock shadow.

  She was suddenly aware that her hair had come loose from her ponytail. That her worn jeans and T-shirt were probably smudged with who-knew-what. This wasn’t how she’d imagined looking when Seth kissed her. Why hadn’t she done something with herself while he was gone? But judging by the look on his face, he didn’t care about any of that.

  No longer needing the fire’s warmth, she moved away, lifting her chin and tossing her ponytail over her shoulder. “What?”

  “I won,” he said quietly.

  “Won what?” Did he hear the tremor in her voice?

  His lips twitched. “Our deal … sleigh by midnight … the kiss … Ring any bells?”

  She bit the inside of her lip, fishing for courage. “Looks like we both won, then.”

  He cocked his head sideways, narrowing his eyes. “Because you got your sleigh?”

  There was her chance to save face. But what fun would that be? She arched a brow instead. “That too.” She drove her point home with a smile, ignoring the way she trembled from the inside out.

  His eyes darkened as his head tipped back. His cocky half smile fell. Oh yeah, he got it. He straightened against the door as his hands fell to his sides. He took a step toward her, then another.

  “You’re in so much trouble.” His voice was as thick as honey. “You know that, right?”

  He advanced with a slowness that intimidated and excited her.

  “Promises, promises.” Her breath left on a shudder.

  Unable to hold her ground, she stepped back once, then again. Her back hit the wall. No getting away now. And honest truth? She didn’t want to. Even though her insides quaked like an epicenter, even though fear trickled through her veins.

  And still he came. His eyes held her captive. Her heart thrashed like a caged bird’s wings. And yet … she didn’t want to be anywhere else but locked up in Murphy’s arms.

  He didn’t stop until they were toe-to-toe. As if remembering the way she’d bolted last time, he braced his hands against the wall on either side of her. Two weeks ago the move would’ve left her feeling trapped. Now her only complaint was that he was too far away.

  His eyes dipped to her lips, and every c
ell in her yearned to strain forward. But she held still, contented herself with the way his face softened, the way his eyes whispered over her face, as tangible as a caress. A shiver ran down her arms.

  He lowered his head. Their lips met, a mere brush. Her legs trembled, her pulse raced, her heart cracked open. How could the softest of brushes undo her so completely?

  He came back for more, and warmth curled through her. She strained toward him, loving the manly smell of him, the taste of him on her lips. She tightened her fingers, nails biting into her palms.

  His thumb found the curve of her cheek, touching her with a reverence that melted her. It was just a kiss, yet it was so much more. She felt his tenderness toward her, his care. She remembered his words earlier, his promise that he’d never hurt her on purpose. She’d feared she’d never find a trustworthy man, but Seth made her want to try. Made her wonder if she’d already found him.

  He pressed closer, his body warm and solid against her. His hands slid around her waist, pulling her closer, splaying against the small of her back.

  Layla’s fingers unfurled, sliding up his arms, winding around his neck, weaving into the hair at his nape. It was feather soft and chilly from the cold night air. She imagined coming home every night to a kiss like this one. To the security of his arms, to the passion he kindled inside her.

  When they parted, she was short of breath and weak of knees. He set his forehead against hers, and she closed her eyes, inhaling the smell of him. Musk and snow and woodsmoke.

  “Confession,” he whispered a moment later. “I would’ve gotten you the sleigh without the kiss.”

  She opened her eyes, smiling at his words, soaking in the warmth of his gaze. “I would’ve given you the kiss without the sleigh.”

  His eyes lit. He nuzzled her nose. “Then you won’t mind giving me another,” he said.

  “Not so much,” she whispered just before he pressed his lips to hers again.

  Twelve

  It’s perfect.” Seth wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back into his chest. “I’ll bet you win the People’s Choice Award.”

  Layla scanned the living room, hoping he was right. She’d worked long hours this week on the exterior and upstairs. She’d put the finishing touches on the main floor, adding snowshoes on the wall above the sofa and black-and-white photos here and there.

  True to his word, Seth had finished the sleigh, and it looked just as she’d imagined. In the evenings there’d been lots of talking and a kissing break or two to break the monotony.

  An old record player sat on the sofa table, stocked with old Christmas records, and a spicy apple cider mixture was ready to go on the stove. There was nothing else to be done.

  “I hope Stanley likes it.”

  “He’s going to love it.” Seth’s arms tightened around her. His breath stirred the hair at her temple.

  As busy as the week had been, she’d savored every moment with him. Once she’d let him into her heart, he’d quickly filled every nook and cranny. Sometimes it felt as if he’d been there all along. Maybe he had been.

  “You know you’re amazing at what you do, right?” he said. “And I’m not just saying that because I like kissing you.”

  She smiled, letting his compliment soak in. It was hard to believe in herself. Sometimes she didn’t feel good enough to stage such beautiful homes. Sometimes she didn’t feel like she belonged in his world.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  He turned her in his arms, tilting his head, his eyes shadowed under the brim of the cap. “Tell me.”

  She’d told him plenty this week about lots of stuff, including her childhood. He’d listened without judging. He was a safe place for honesty. She loved that about him. That and so much more.

  “I don’t know, sometimes I just … don’t feel like I’m good enough for this.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  She shook her head. “It’s just … leftover stuff from childhood, I guess. Little girl from the wrong side of the tracks … disreputable family … all that. Sometimes I wonder if that’s why I connect with staging, you know? I take something that’s messed up”—she gave a wry grin—“dress it up, and make it look special.”

  He cradled her face in his palms, looking her in the eye. “Hey. You don’t need dressing up. You’re already special.”

  Her eyes stung at his words. At the sincerity in his eyes. “Thanks.”

  “Your identity doesn’t come from your address.”

  “I know.”

  “Or your parents.”

  “I know that too.” She did. But sometimes the knowledge failed to make the twelve-inch journey to her heart.

  His thumbs moved over her cheek, sending shivers dancing down her spine. “God made you special, Layla, inside and out. And He gifted you with an amazing talent.”

  It was easier to believe when Seth said it. When he was looking at her like he adored her. She wanted to fall into the swirling waters of his sea-blue eyes.

  “You know I’m crazy about you,” he said.

  She bit her lip, half afraid her own confession would come tumbling out. Half afraid it wouldn’t. She was crazy about him. She was falling so hard and fast, she was dizzy with it.

  “You don’t have to say a word,” he said. “It’s all right there in your eyes.”

  “Think so?”

  “Know so.” A teasing light entered his eyes. “And I’m always right, you know.”

  She gave a wry smile. “One of those, are you?”

  “Know what else I’m right about?”

  “I can hardly wait to find out.”

  He brushed his lips across hers, drawing back with a tender smile. “Jack’s going to eat his heart out tonight when he has to sit across the table and know what he missed out on.”

  “Ugh, you had to go and remind me about dinner.”

  “Well, it’s in an hour, so you weren’t likely to forget.”

  She sighed. “I need a shower.”

  “I’ll pick you up at ten till,” he said, and then he kissed her again, long and sweet, until desire spread slow and thick through her veins.

  Jack and Jessica lived in a contemporary home situated on a knoll overlooking the river. All that college had paid off for Jack, landing him a job with Nolan, Wells & Ebb. Apparently that was paying pretty well these days.

  “I should’ve asked to bring something,” Layla said as they climbed the brick porch steps. She fussed with the neckline of her black dress, second-guessing her choice. A cold wind caught the hemline of the skirt, pebbling her legs with gooseflesh.

  “She would’ve said no,” Seth said.

  “I still should’ve asked.”

  He rang the bell beside the double doors and took her cold hand, bringing it to his lips. “Have I told you how beautiful you look?”

  She looked into his eyes, released a breath she didn’t know she’d held. She smiled. “Twice.” He had a way of calming her. Just by being there. Thank God he was with her tonight. Between this dinner and Stanley’s upcoming decision, she was a wreck.

  “You look pretty handsome yourself.”

  “I know. Some foxy lady told me my shirt matches my eyes.”

  Her lips twitched. “Who says foxy?”

  The double doors swung open, Jessica at one and Jack at the other. The gap widened, light flooding out, and then …

  “Surprise!” a chorus of people shouted.

  Layla scanned the group crowded into the bright, two-story atrium. Faces came into focus. A friend of Seth’s, Beckett, Madison, her family, Mayor Dawson, Layla’s father, her aunts, Stanley Malcolm …

  Seth tightened his grasp on her hand. “What’s all this?” His smile seemed genuine, but his voice was strained.

  Layla remembered belatedly to smile.

  Jack ushered them in. “Jessica and I thought you needed an engagement party. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Thanks so much, guys.” Seth squeezed La
yla’s hand.

  “Yes, thank you. Everyone,” she said, encompassing the group.

  “Are you surprised?” Aunt Lorraine asked.

  “Totally,” Layla said. Now there was an honest statement if ever there was one.

  Her coat was taken from her shoulders, and she was relieved of her bag.

  “Dinner’s in half an hour,” Jessica said. “Now go mingle!” She tugged them into the crowd as everyone dispersed into the sitting room. Music played from a stereo somewhere. Iridescent white and silver balloons clustered here and there. One had floated up to the cathedral ceiling and clung to a massive beam, its white ribbon hanging stagnant. Layla wished she could float away too.

  A crowd gathered around them, buzzing with congratulations, asking about wedding plans. Layla worked to keep her smile in place as Seth pulled her tight into his side and fielded most of the questions. He seemed to be slowly moving them toward the back of the room where a set of French doors, leading to a balcony, promised freedom.

  Across the room she caught her brother’s frown aimed her way. Why didn’t you tell me? she telegraphed with her eyes.

  He shrugged helplessly, and she remembered the phone calls she’d ignored this afternoon in her haste to finish the house.

  She smiled and nodded as her aunts fussed over them. How had this happened? It was supposed to be an intimate family dinner party—bad enough—but this …

  When her aunts excused themselves, Seth’s store manager and his wife took their places. He was droning on about his own wedding, his wife correcting him every two sentences.

  The room was loud with music and laughter and idle chatter. All the bodies that crowded into the house made the temperature stifling. Layla tried to push up her heavy sleeves and found them stiff and unyielding.

  Across the way, Stanley Malcolm worked the room in his Armani suit. His wife waved at someone, her diamonds flashing on her fingers like a million stars. When the manager’s wife asked a question, Layla turned her attention back to the couple, but Murphy gracefully answered.

  Mingling was hard enough, but sooner or later, the focus would turn to them, the happy couple, and she’d have to look into a sea of family and friends and lie. Her throat closed around her windpipe, her fingers grabbed a fistful of Seth’s suit coat at his back.