A Magical Christmas. Elizabeth Rolls

      “He’s adorable, especially when he knows he’s been naughty. He has this cute, guilty look. It’s fine. Élise sent more than we’d need. I guess she knew we might mess it up.”

      Tyler scowled at Ash. “You are out of control. And notice I’m not smiling when I say those words. And I don’t think you’re adorable. I think you’re a pain in the—”

      “Language, Dad.” Jess tipped another steak into the pan, and Ash wagged his tail, his eyes fixed hopefully on her.

      A delicious smell of cooking wafted through the kitchen, and this time when Jess turned the steak, she did it with exaggerated caution.

      Ash whined and settled down on the floor, hoping for another culinary error in his favor. Luna, the better behaved of the two dogs, lay quietly under the table watching Jess.

      Tyler shared salad between the plates and pulled a couple of beers out of the fridge. “Why have you never cooked for me before?”

      “Because I’m still learning. Élise has been teaching me at Grandma’s. I wanted to surprise you.” Jess added steaks and a baked potato to the plates and put them on the table.

      “It’s a surprise.” Tyler handed Brenna a beer. “A good one. Does this mean you’re also going to stop dropping your clothes around the house and do the laundry?”

      Brenna twisted the cap off the beer. She’d been in this kitchen more times than she could count. So why did everything suddenly feel different? Her response wasn’t logical. “You shouldn’t have cooked for him, Jess. You’re reinforcing gender stereotypes.”

      “I’m not. I’m making sure I eat well.” Jess sat down and picked up her knife and fork. “It’s his turn to cook tomorrow. Dad, you can’t put ketchup on that delicious steak. It will ruin the flavor.”

      Ignoring her, Tyler added a huge dollop of ketchup to his plate. “If tomorrow is my night then we’re having takeout food.”

      Jess glanced at Brenna. “What’s your favorite?”

      “Mexican.” Tyler sliced into his steak. “Her favorite is Mexican.”

      Jess gave him a long look. “You guys know everything about each other.”

      “Not everything.” Brenna focused on her plate. The things she didn’t know about Tyler were the little things. Personal things. Did he sleep naked?

      “You can cook Mexican from scratch, Dad. All you need is beans, tortillas—I don’t know, but I bet it’s not that hard. I’ll text Élise and ask her, and then we can go shopping tomorrow.” Jess fed a slice of steak to Luna under the table. “Brenna will be impressed.”

      “Or she might be poisoned. I’m not trying to impress Brenna. She’s known me forever so she’s past being impressed. This steak is good. For this, I’ll tidy the house, but you can do your own laundry. And stop feeding that dog under the table. So how’s your room, Bren? Great view of the forest?”

      He knew more about her than anyone, and yet he didn’t know the most important thing of all. The way she felt about him. “It’s beautiful, thank you, and I love being able to see the lake.”

      He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “You can see the lake?”

      “Yes. Jess put me in the room next to yours.” And she was wondering how she was going to sleep at night, knowing that all that separated them was a thin wall.

      Tyler put his fork down slowly. “Next to mine?”

      “Is that a problem?” Brenna tried to sound casual. “I can easily move if you’d rather I used a different room.”

      His gaze locked on hers, blue and disturbingly intense. “No.” His voice was slightly thickened. “It’s a nice room.” His gaze flickered to Jess but she was absorbed in her food.

      “Sorry,” she said brightly. “My mistake. I thought you said the front room. No point in moving now. It makes no difference, and Brenna liked the room. There’s more steak if anyone is still hungry.”

      Hungry?

      Brenna could barely force food down her throat.

      She never would have thought being with Tyler could have felt this uncomfortable.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      OVER IN THE main house that had been home to the O’Neils for four generations, Walter O’Neil settled himself at the scrubbed kitchen table and watched as Alice, his wife of sixty years, helped Elizabeth arrange cookie dough on large baking sheets.

      “So Brenna has moved in with Tyler.”

      “She needed somewhere to go.” Elizabeth removed two trays of cinnamon stars from the oven, replacing them with the next batch. “We’re so lucky Tyler has room.”

      Walter grunted. “Last time I counted, you had five spare rooms.”

      “I invited relatives from England.” Elizabeth transferred the cookies onto a cooling tray.

      Walter glanced at the empty chairs around the table. “I don’t see any relatives from England.”

      “I’m not sure what’s happening yet, but it didn’t seem fair to invite Brenna and then risk having to ask her to move. She needs somewhere permanent.”

      “Permanent?” Walter’s gaze sharpened. His face was weathered and lined from a life spent outdoors, but he still had a full head of hair and looked at least a decade younger than his eighty years. “Exactly how long were you thinking she’d stay with Tyler?”

      “I don’t know.” Elizabeth broke one of the cookies in half to check it. “At least until Christmas. Jess loves Christmas so much, and it will be good for Brenna to be part of that.”

      “You’re throwing the two of them together, aren’t you?”

      “I am doing no such thing.” Elizabeth nibbled a cookie. “But those two virtually grew up together, and Jess loves Brenna. It makes sense for her to move in with him.”

      “I’m old, not stupid. You’re interfering.”

      “You’re not old.” Alice reached across and patted his hand. “And I seem to remember you interfering plenty with Sean and Élise.”

      “You’re imagining things.” But there was a gleam in Walter’s eyes. “All I did was point out what the rest of the world knew. Those two were both too stubborn to see what the rest of us saw.”

      “It’s the same with Tyler. It’s obvious how Brenna feels about him.” Elizabeth picked up a bowl of icing, and Walter looked at her thoughtfully.

      “But how does he feel about her? She’s not his usual type. Nothing like the others.”

      “He wasn’t serious about the others. They were just part of that life he led. And I don’t remember fielding phone calls from any of those women when he was lying in the hospital with his career in ruins. Where were they then?” Elizabeth wiped her hands on her apron. “It was Brenna who sat by him. She was there night and day, and there was no getting her to leave. She was the one who coaxed him out of his bad temper when the rest of us were almost afraid to walk into that room. She’s been there for him through thick and thin.”

      “And in all that time, nothing has ever happened. I remember the party in the summer. He didn’t even look at her. What they have is friendship, and it’s never going to be anything else.” Walter reached out to steal a cookie, and Alice rapped his knuckles.

      “They’re for the Boathouse Café.”

      “They won’t miss one, and I don’t want to give the guests what I haven’t