“Uh, yes!” Delia hopped around the edge of the sofa to stand next to Simon. My fists clenched as she latched onto his arm to keep her balance. “This is my…um…my photographer!”
She brushed snow from his jacket sleeve and then gestured toward the stairs. “Simon, you should have been here hours ago. It’s already getting late. You should get settled into your room. Mine is right next door. We have a lot of…shots to go over. A whole storyboard.”
Of course, they’d be sharing a wall. How wonderful. My insides iced over at the thought of Delia slipping into his room to meet her deadline. Working late by an intimate fire. Sharing coffee first thing in the morning.
Ugh.Where was my saw when I needed it?
“There’s no way you’re going up and down stairs on that foot. You’re changing rooms again,” I grated.
Delia’s mouth flattened into an exasperated line. But Grandma Jean came to my aid.
“No, Jack’s right. We’ll move you into a room on the first floor.”
Simon’s gaze bounced between the three of us. “Right. Then I will meet you in the morning to discuss everything. Sorry to disturb your evening.” He turned to leave but paused. “Oh, by the way, this was sitting on your front porch. I think whatever is inside might be frozen.”
Simon lifted a small cardboard box tied with a gold ribbon from the top of his suitcase. He handed it to me, then retreated from the room, heading for the staircase.
Delia squeezed her fist against her mouth and cringed. “Oops, the danish.”
“How do you know what it is?” I asked, opening the lid. Sure enough, it was a cheese danish with a little card tucked beside it with a note from Becky.
Because it’s your favorite. xoxo Becky.
“Um, she mentioned she was going to leave it for you. It was supposed to be a surprise,” Delia said, scratching the back of her neck.
Grandma Jean nodded and glanced covertly at Delia. “Becky’s thoughtful like that. Come with me, dear. I’ll gather your stuff and bring it downstairs.”
I watched Delia shuffle from the room with Grandma Jean’s assistance, then I sank onto the sofa. With an agitated growl, I tossed the frozen danish onto the coffee table.Talk about a disaster.The bag of peas had thawed, and the fire had slowly dwindled to nothing but a few weak flames. Without its warm glow, the room was as unwelcoming as the barren Christmas tree perched in the corner. I dropped my head into my hands, doing my best to not relive my last few moments with Delia before Simon’s unwanted arrival. But it was impossible.
Three was definitely a crowd, and unless Simon kept his distance, it was going to be a long two weeks until Christmas.
Chapter 10
Delia
Sprained ankles were the worst. You couldn't even pace properly. With a frustrated groan, I collapsed onto the cushioned window seat and leaned my forehead against the cold glass. Six inches of fresh powder covered the ground. Evidence that you shouldn't cast a magical snowstorm, and then forget to cancel it. And you definitely shouldn’t forget that you left an enchanted pastry sitting on the front porch, freezing in the elements.
But in my defense, I'd been a little distracted. And by distracted, I meant holy holly berries, I’d almost kissed Jack.
I blamed the cozy fire—that I’d magically lit for warmth, not atmosphere, though it kind of backfired—and the way Jack smelled like fresh pine during a manufactured snow squall. He’d literally carried me across a frozen tundra and then bandaged my ankle.A girl can only take so much.
But then Simon showed up and poured a gallon of icy water on the fire. And by fire, I meant the hots I had for Jack.Ugh! No. No. No.This couldn’t be happening. Why was Simon here, anyway? It made no sense. Agents didn’t work in pairs, and there were a million other small towns at Christmastime to perform miracles. The agency wouldn’t send us to the same place.
Unless…Maybe this wasn’t the agency at all, but the universe trying to knock some sense into my romance-starved brain. I’d been pining after Simon for three years, and right when I was close to attracting his attention, and getting everything I’d ever wanted, I was sabotaging myself. This was just destiny swooping in to keep me on track.
I glanced at my poinsettia sitting on the nightstand and frowned as a leaf came loose and fell softly to the floor. A few other leaves had already met their demise sometime overnight.That can’t be good.Had I forgotten to water it?
A soft knock on my door made me jump, and I limped from the window seat to open it and poked my head into the hall. Simon greeted me with a cool smile and a mug of steaming coffee in each hand. He was dressed in a pressed suit with a holiday tie expertly knotted around his neck. A little formal for the Bradley Inn, but not for Simon.I wonder what he’d look like in flannel?
“I brought reinforcements,” Simon said, handing off one of the mugs. His mouth twisted in distaste as he surveyed my messy appearance and bandaged ankle. “You look like you could use it.”
“Yeah, well, it's been a week,” I said, peering in both directions and listening for any other signs of movement. When I was sure the coast was clear, I waved Simon inside my room. “Quick, before anyone sees you.”
“Why are photographers not allowed in the first-floor bedrooms?” he asked dryly.
“It’s part of my cover story.” I closed the door behind him and leaned against the wood, taking a life-saving sip of caffeine. “As far as anyone’s concerned, I work for an occult magazine, and I’m featuring Grandma Jean’s Spells and Brews Ladies’ Club in our holiday edition.”
Simon nodded and rested a shoulder against the bedpost. Everything felt surreal. The man of my dreams was currently sipping coffee in my bedroom, and instead of feeling joy, I was trying to stave off a stress-induced headache.
