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Adrian rolled with the abrupt change of topic. “I’m lucky that he likes the mountains and doesn’t mind that it’s a bit remote up here. We’ve had some people working for us who didn’t feel that way.”
“And did you fuck any of them?”
Wow, and just when he’d thought they’d reached some kind of understanding.
He rolled back his shoulders and crossed his arms. “One, rude. Two, please refer to what I said about how it’s none of your bloody business. And three, no.”
Olivia studied him for a long moment, eyes narrowed, sunlight slanting across the bed and her figure. Then she abruptly deflated. “You’re right—that was rude and uncalled for. I’m sorry.”
“Why?” he asked, rather than immediately claim that it was fine. Because really, it kind of wasn’t. If she knew about his job—but did she? Would Eric really have told her? Somehow, Adrian didn’t think so. If she did know, though, he felt rather offended at being judged on the basis of something that had been five years ago. Granted, it wasn’t your everyday student gig at the local coffee shop, but he wasn’t about to apologise for his choices. He sure ashellwasn’t going to waste his time on people who felt entitled to cast judgement—not even if they were Eric’s immediate family, which was the main reason he’d cut her a fair bit of slack so far.
She drew an audible breath before she met his gaze. “Because Eric’s not good at casual. And he’s my little brother. And he’s been screwed over before.”
Adrian was excellent at casual, and he could cite more than a decade of experience to back up his claim. But also, he was twenty-nine, not nineteen. Did that change things?
Maybe.
He uncrossed his arms. “Like I told you—I don’t intend to screw him over.”
“Good.” It was quiet, followed by a sigh. “Again, I’m sorry. I’m kind of a mess, but it’s Christmas, right? And we’re in this beautiful place. I don’t want to ruin it for my parents and brother, so…”
Whatever irritation he’d held melted away. He might have evaded relationships along with the associated fallout, but he’d seen friends go through betrayal and heartache, and it wasn’t fun. Her having to paste on a smile for the benefit of others… Well. Life was not a pony farm, to quote Dad.
“Do you need a hug?” he offered gently.
For a moment, she didn’t respond. Then she tipped her chin down in a small nod. “Please?”
He took a couple of steps forward, then spread his arms and hovered, uncertain, until she rose from the bed and walked into his embrace. Slowly, cautiously, he closed his arms around her in a light hold. They stood like that for a few moments before she pulled back with a wobbly smile.
“You smell good.”
“Uh.” He shoved both hands into his pockets. “Thanks?”
She huffed out a laugh. “Relax—I’m not coming on to you. It was a simple observation.”
How was this blunt, no-holds-barred woman related to Eric, who tended to keep himself on a tight leash? Except… How had Eric put it?‘I think you enjoy taking the lead, and that makes it easy for me to relax and give up control.’
“In that case,” Adrian said, “thank you for the compliment.”
“You’re welcome.” Olivia wiped a hand down her face, then glanced away, voice quiet. “Just don’t tell my family, okay? I want them to think I’m fine.”
“I’m a hotelier—it’s almost like a bartender, meaning I’m bound to professional discretion. So no, I won’t say a word.” He inserted a deliberate pause, waiting until she looked at him before he added, “But maybe you should.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s not the kind of family we are.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s the kind of family Eric would like you to be. He can handle the truth.”
For a second, Adrian worried that he’d gone too far. Then Olivia fixed him with a clear, bright gaze. “You might be right.”
It was as much as he was going to get, and anyway, it wasn’t his place to interfere—Eric’s family was none of his business. So he offered another promise of discretion before he stepped out into the hallway and closed the door, telling himself that there was no point in reading too much into anything she’d said.
‘Eric’s not good at casual. He seems at home here.’
Olivia was a mess, she’d said so herself. Adrian would be a fool to take her words at face value.
And yet.
Adrian spenta good part of the day checking in guests, many of them regulars who returned every year and were delighted that it would be a white Christmas this time around. Some had been coming here since before he’d been born and treated him with sweet, affectionate indulgence, like he couldn’t possibly be running this place now—surely he was barely old enough to pack his own school lunches? In between, he finalised next week’s grocery list with Kojo and walked Matteo through his vision for the upstairs guest rooms, just to see if it would be feasible from the perspective of an electrician.
