'Twas the Week Before Christmas. Olivia Miles

watched Holly retreat to the end of the lobby and fall easily into conversation with a middle-aged couple. She looked nothing short of gorgeous this morning, with her chestnut hair cascading over that creamy sweater that—even from this distance—looked so soft it was practically begging to be touched. Surely a woman as beautiful and sweet as Holly couldn’t be without a handful of men lining up and hoping for a date. She’d talked unabashedly about the inn all through their conversation the night before, but she hadn’t mentioned if there was someone special in her life. It didn’t appear there was, but Max intended to find out just to be sure.

      Holly was exactly the kind of woman he imagined himself marrying—if he ever intended to get married, that is. And he didn’t. Marriage didn’t work—he’d lived long and hard enough to know that—even if he wished it did. The older he grew, the more he found himself wondering if maybe...but he always came to the same conclusion: nope, not for him. Some memories were too deep. Some facts were just facts.

      So no, he didn’t have any intention of settling down with Holly, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from getting to know her a little better. And besides, if he managed to win her over, maybe Holly wouldn’t think twice about giving up this place and moving to the city herself.

      * * *

      “Drat!”

      She’d done it again. Holly grabbed an oven mitt and threw all her upper-body strength into moving the enormous stainless-steel pot of hot chocolate to the back burner just before it boiled over. Flicking off the gas to the stove, she grabbed a ladle from the ceramic pitcher on the counter and began filling a dozen red thermoses with the bubbling concoction. She’d managed to save it just in time, and the aroma of freshly melted dark chocolate mixed with heavy cream was heaven for her senses. She—and more often Stephen—made this treat in batches during the fall and winter seasons, but despite years of practice, she almost always got so busy talking to a guest that the simmering pot would slip her mind. Today that guest had been none other than Max Hamilton. Of course.

      Pulling a jar of homemade powdered-sugar-coated marshmallows from a shelf, Holly dared to steal a glance out the window above the sink. The snow was still falling steadily, but it was the threat of more that worried her. She’d overheard more than one guest grumble about the impending storm and the road conditions, and two others who were scheduled to arrive today had cancelled their reservations. With all the energy she’d poured into the holiday week’s events, it would be a shame to see none of it come to fruition.

      Her heart ached a little when she considered her real concern. She couldn’t bear the thought of being alone at Christmas.

      “Hello, hello!” Abby burst into the kitchen, all rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed. Snowflakes still spattered her eyelashes and she blinked rapidly to melt them.

      “Hey there!” Holly brightened at the sight of her friend, comforted with the knowledge that she could at least spend the holiday with Abby and her husband Pete. She was their token charity case, she liked to joke. But the joke was becoming old. And she herself was becoming tired. Tired of being alone in this world. Tired of watching life pass her by. All she wanted was a family of her own. Was it really too much to ask?

      Hard work usually eased the pain and kept her from thinking of how different life could have been and should have been, but Christmas brought a fresh reminder. It was her favorite time of the year, but it would be even more magical if she had someone special to share it with her.

      “Um, Holly?”

      Holly finished placing a marshmallow in each thermos and found Abby leaning against the counter and staring at her expectantly. “Yes?”

      “Who is that guy?” Abby practically hissed the last word of her question, and the gleam in her eyes said everything.

      “He’s our VIP.”

      “Green Room?”

      “Yep.” Holly heaved a sigh. It seemed everyone was as smitten with Max as she was. Chances were there were many more women back in New York with the same intentions.

      “What do you know about him?” Abby reached for a lid and screwed it on top of a thermos.

      “Thanks...I don’t know much about him actually. But we did—we did have a nice chat last night. He’s very nice.”

      “Holly!” Abby squealed and did a little dance on the floorboards. “How long were you planning on keeping this from me?”

      “It’s nothing,” Holly said, instantly regretting she had said anything at all. She was building this up to be more than it was. Max was her guest. And he would be leaving tomorrow. If not sooner, she thought, turning to the window with a sinking sensation. “He’s nice. That’s all.”

      “No, that is not all!” Abby insisted. “And besides, a man like that is not nice. Nice is not an appropriate adjective at all.”

      Holly snorted. “No? Do you have a better term then?”

      “Dashing. Dapper. Completely irresistible.”

      Holly smothered a laugh and shook her head. “Come on,” she said, picking up the rattan basket now loaded with the thermoses. “We’ve got a group eagerly waiting for a sleigh ride and we don’t want the hot chocolate getting cold before we’re even outside.”

      Holly pushed through the kitchen door with Abby in tow, crossed through the dining room and ventured into the lobby, where nearly every guest was now gathered in their winter best around the roaring fire, awaiting the morning’s activity. Evelyn Adler had bundled herself into a royal-blue coat with a black fur collar and matching hat. Ever the lady of the house, Holly noted with a smile.

      She set the basket on a table near the front door and peered out the window for a sign of the stable manager, Rob, and the horse-drawn sleigh. She searched farther out to the white barn at the north end of the estate, finally capturing some movement.

      “Are you going on the sleigh ride?” Evelyn had come to stand near Holly.

      Holly’s shoulders slumped slightly. “Oh, I’d love to, but I should really stay behind and take care of things.”

      Evelyn cocked her head in Max’s direction. “Even if he goes?”

      Holly’s chest tightened. “I don’t think he’s able to go, Mrs. Adler, and even if—”

      But it was too late. Evelyn had gotten an idea into her head and she wasn’t about to let it go. Crossing the room to where Max sat sipping his coffee, Evelyn perched herself on the edge of a footstool and removed her fur hat. She patted her silvering hair, pulled neatly into a low bun, and smiled almost...girlishly.

      Holly’s eyes darted to Mr. Adler, who was watching his wife from a few feet away with a bemused expression. Holly dared to near Max’s chair, half dreading what she braced herself to hear.

      “I don’t believe we’ve met.” Evelyn thrust a small-boned hand at Max. “Evelyn Adler. This is my husband, Nelson.”

      “Max Hamilton. A pleasure, Mrs. Adler.” He turned to the older man and nodded. “Mr. Adler.”

      “Oh, call me Evelyn. Please,” Evelyn practically cooed.

      Holly felt her brow pinch. In all the years she had known Evelyn, she had never been granted the same courtesy.

      “Evelyn,” Max repeated, his tone laced with amusement.

      “Is this your first time at the inn?” Evelyn inquired.

      “Indeed it is.”

      Holly’s heart warmed at Max’s patience with Evelyn, but she still didn’t trust her most loyal guest from taking liberties. Evelyn had made herself very comfortable at The White Barn Inn over the years and, aside from a few formalities she adhered strictly to, she had taken a shining to Holly’s personal life over time. Too much so.

      “Mrs. Ad—” she attempted as a polite interruption but Evelyn waved her hand dismissively