Ashley and I both agree that we will, and Ester hesitantly, almost reluctantly, walks out of the room.
“I could always share your bed?” I grin at her.
She gives me an expression likeI’d rather share a bed with The Grinch.“In your dreams.” I open my mouth to respond, but she beats me to it. “Oh, wait, that would be your nightmare, right?”
I sigh, shoving my hands in my jacket pockets. Neither of us has forgotten then.
Chapter Five
ASHLEY
Ican’t believe I just told Carter that my ego is still bruised from what happened between us. Now he’s giving me that look. The same one from that night. As if he’s resigned to talk about it. Something I didn’t want to do then, and something I still have no interest in doing now.
“I have to go grab some coolers to put the fridge stuff in.” I weave around him, but he holds my wrist and brings me to a stop. Tingles race up my arm, and I hate my body for betraying me. We can’t still want this man.
“We need to talk, Ashley.” I meet his gaze, and our eyes hold for an uncomfortable beat.
He’s as gorgeous as he was six months ago. Vibrant blue eyes set off by his dark-brown hair, broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, and just the right amount of five o’clock shadow to be sexy.
“I really need to go to the store, Carter. I have to prepare dinner for my guests.” I give him a pleading look, asking him to drop this topic at least for the time being.
He nods and steps back. As I walk past him, his hand wraps around my wrist again. “After dinner then. I don’t want our… issues to cause problems at Doug and Steph’s wedding.”
“Isn’t the problem what didn’t happen?” I grab my purse off the kitchen table, snag my coat off the rack, and head out the door.
Carter’s rejection should not sting after all these months, but it does, and I have no idea why.
That’s a lie. I know exactly why. I thought we had connected that night. I thought he was feeling what I was…
I shake my head and start the truck. My cheeks heat in embarrassment.
At the hardware store, I grab a few coolers to store the food from the fridge in until it’s fixed. Fifteen minutes later, I’m barely out of the truck before Carter waltzes out of the front door of the B&B.
“Figured I could give you a hand, so you can avoid a few extra trips in this cold.”
“Were you stalking me out the front window or something?” I say rather than thanking him.
He doesn’t say anything snarky back. He ignores my jab, takes two of the coolers, and walks toward the house. I follow with the third, silently reprimanding myself for making this so much worse. The immediate warmth of the house thaws my chilled bones. This winter has been brutal.
“This is a really great place,” Carter says, watching me slip off my boots.
I walk past him and mutter, “Thanks.”
Despite my saltiness toward Carter, I soak in the charm of what I’ve created as I walk through the hallway. Twinkling lights wind through garlands on the banister, casting a warm glow over the polished wood. Plaid ribbons, tiny ceramic villages, and bowls of ornaments are tucked into every corner. A towering tree I cut down myself glows in the front room, dressed in vintage ornaments and red-and-green-beaded garland. Faint Christmas music from my own specially made playlist drifts from thespeakers, and the scent of cinnamon lingers through the air, thanks to bundles of sticks I’ve tucked into nooks and crannies. It’s like walking through a living Christmas card. And I’m glad Carter appreciates my hard work, although I hate myself for needing someone else’s praise.
Once we’re in the kitchen, he continues helping me, the two of us wordlessly emptying the contents of the fridge into the coolers like our own two-man assembly line.
I’m so busy trying to preserve the food that it takes me until I’m passing him the eggs before I realize this isn’t his job. “You don’t have to help me.”
He dramatically looks around the empty kitchen. “I don’t see anyone else.”
I stop handing him the egg carton and tug it closer to me. “I have it handled.”
His head tilts, and he sighs. “Seriously, Ashley?”
We stare at each other as if we’re in a standoff. I look into the cooler and realize I need to get this done so that I can prepare dinner. My to-do list is growing the longer I stand here, holding the carton as if we’re fighting over the “It” toy on Christmas Eve.
“Thanks.”
