Royal Hearts (Love At The Lake #2)

Chapter 24

Twenty-Four

WINTER

I ’ve woken up five times already. It’s the light.

In my room, velvet curtains keep the sun out as long as I wish, but here on the floor with a fire smoldering in the grate, Lola’s snores, and a headstrong woman wrapped around me, I can’t sleep. The sun highlights her cupids-bow and it’s calling my name.

The first time I wake, I smile.

The second, I chuckle.

The third, I risk it all and wrap my arm tighter around her. She hums in her sleep and rolls into me, nuzzling her cheek against my chest and I’ve never wished I was naked more. Wished that her skin was on mine, not this ridiculous argyle V-neck that I pulled from the back of a drawer.

The fourth time, I lean into her and inhale, wondering if I could let my fingertip rest in that sweet divot on her upper lip if only for a second. She smells so good, like expensive lavender. It’s penetrated my clothes, the pillows, and I hope it lasts forever.

The fifth, I wonder if I’m being a weirdo, and as I’m pulling my numb arm from beneath her head to try and sneak off in the direction of the French press, a phone rings.

The house phone has a shrill, earsplitting tone and I wince.

Her eyes crack. “Is that a phone?” She pulls away. “I’ve got to call Marco. He’s probably had two heart attacks and an aneurysm by now.”

Still sloppy and off my footing from sleeping next to a gorgeous woman with chocolate eyes, I stumble to the house phone attached to a wall near the pantry. “Hello? Larsen house of pain,” I grunt, perturbed I’ve been cheated out of whatever she might have said to me first thing in the morning if reality hadn’t come bashing down on us.

“Oh, thank God,” shrieks a voice, so loud I have to pull the receiver from my ear. “Winter, put my sister on the phone!”

Cat’s eyes pop open, “Is that Fran?” She’s still curled up on the floor surrounded by old family furs, patting Lola’s sleeping head.

The twinkle lights strung across the mantle are no longer shining bright. Everything looks different in the daylight, including the sour look on Cat’s face. Not a morning person, then.

“Do you have owl hearing?” I ask as she snatches the phone from me.

She wraps the cord around her finger, dancing nervously in my socks. “Hello?” She gives me a face while covering the receiver and mouthing, why didn’t we use this phone to call Marco last night? She rolls her eyes at me.

Good morning, Bloom, let’s not go losing our heads and all the common ground we’ve gained, my returning gaze says.

Maybe I wanted to be snowed in, away from the cameras. Deep down, I think she did, too. And the kiss… Seems like we’re going to ignore that little detail, and for now I’ll let her get away with it. But not for long .

“Cat!” Fran says, as I dig for coffee in the kitchen to give her a bit of privacy.

Twisting the cord around her little finger, then her arm, looking adorably playful like her namesake with a ball of string, Cat chats idly in the corner, leaning against the wall, popping one foot on her knee so she’s standing like a sloppy ballerina.

She’s oddly comfortable in my clothes and in my space, the visual hits me in the gut, striking me as surprisingly delicious.

It was one kiss, man . I shake my head at myself, pour coffee grounds into a glass press, and heat water in a kettle on the gas range.

“We’re fine,” Cat says into the phone, then goes on to relay the events of last night.

A peek outside the window proves the sun has melted a good amount of the snow already. It usually doesn’t last long down on Main Street, as opposed to the top of the mountain. We might still have trouble getting back up to the lodge, but that’s a problem for future Winter to worry about.

Nonchalantly listening to her conversation while pressing our coffee, I pull two mugs with tiny blue birds from a cupboard.

“I don’t care what we do for my birthday. I probably have to work all week anyway. Maybe this weekend?”

It’s her fucking birthday?

“Dinner at your place sounds great. How’s the motel coming along? Have you installed all the furniture you bought on your trip?”

She catches my eye and mouths, do you think he proposed? I roll my eyes. If Frannie and John got engaged, we’d both know within minutes.

When I don’t answer, she stomps her foot and makes a face but continues chatting away. And I get an idea.

By the time I return from a guest room that’s tricked out with heirlooms under glass for the tour, her conversation has turned heated .

“We lost power, or I would have called you, Marco .” She glares at me and I wince, “Sorry! I was, I was,” she stutters and finally resorts to the truth, “I was distracted.”

That one word, that little slip. My chest constricts and all the blood in my body suddenly rushes south. Distracted .

Indeed, I can’t argue that I slipped into my own fantasy world in front of that fire with her, all night long I dreamed of doing things to her. Soft things. Hard things. And everything in between. The kiss we shared was just enough to kick off a myriad of fantasies about what I would do to Cat Bloomfield, if only she’d let me.

Passing by her to get to the cupboard with the sugar bowl, I press my chest against her as I stretch to reach. Her cheeks turn Saint Nick red.

Does she feel the same? She no longer thinks of me as the boogey monster, and I know she’s not a wicked witch, but I think we’re both unsure where that leaves us. On the other hand, her cheeks are telling me at least physically, we’re on the same page.

“Yes, I understand it’s my job to wrangle him.” She points at me when I back off and fill our mugs. “Yes, I understand it’s my future career on the line.”

So, there’s an obvious problem. It’s the show.

I hold my hands up in surrender and gesture to a chair at the breakfast table. The wide window is bookended by Wedgwood blue curtains that make me think of a Denmark sky in spring. They’ve got embroidered floral trim and were shipped straight from Skagen years ago when my mom gave the place a refresh.

Cat hangs up the phone. “What’s all this?”

“I’m sorry if work is . . . not happy about yesterday, and last night.” I slide her chair out and gesture for her to sit. Surprisingly, she doesn’t have a smart comment, or balk, or flat-out refuse.

“It’s fine,” she says, in a tone that says she can handle it. I know she can, still, I feel a little guilty .

Once she’s seated, her back to me, I grab my surprise.

“Happy birthday,” I say, dropping to a knee in front of her.

She takes one look and then pins me with a glare. “That crown’s for your future wife.”

I feel my own cheeks heat. “On loan for breakfast,” I say, the rubies glinting in the sun coming through the window. I will my hands to still. “My grandmother gave it to me when she passed and it’s on loan to the museum, on display in one of the first-floor bedrooms—and yes, what we’ve agreed to use for the show.”

She speaks slowly. “It’s the crown you’ll use in the finale of Royal Hearts .”

Is this a mistake? I don’t know why I’m kneeling. I didn’t plan to kneel, I wanted to do something special for her on her birthday. Fuck, I’m kneeling. I’m holding a crown out to her with shaking hands. Never in my life have I been on my knees for someone, yet I find myself in this position—for this woman—constantly.

Take it. I will her to take it. If she doesn’t, my heart races, what if she doesn’t want ? —

“So this is what all those women are vying for?” she says, assessing the hundred-plus-year-old jewels in my hands. That comment hurts more than it should.

I think I’ve made a monumental mistake, a sharp jab rises up my throat, but her features soften and she looks me in the eyes. “Thank you.” She takes it from my hands. “I’ll take it for a test drive, it’s not every day a girl gets to wear a real royal crown.”

“Yes, please. That was the plan. I don’t have a breakfast fit for a queen, but the jewelry, that I have in clubs.”

“In spades.”

“Whatever .” I wave a hand and enjoy her exasperation.

“You have this stuff lying around?” The crown shifts precariously on her head and she steadies it.

I pull two ruby earrings from behind her ears, an old trick my uncle Erik taught me. I’ve been thinking more and more about him lately, rest his soul. Elias is a good kid. Maybe he and I can help each other. I need to reach out. I always had an affection for him and I promised Erik I’d look after him. Elias could be the solution I’ve been looking for.

The earrings clip on but I drop them on the plate in front of her, afraid to try and put them on her myself. “Did you forget you spent the night in a castle? With a prince? And had the best make out of your life?”

A laugh bursts from her chest. “Are you for real, Larsen? What else do you have hidden up your sleeve?”

“It’s nice to hear you laugh.” It seems we did make progress last night if she’s still laughing.

“Instead of bark orders?”

“No. I like that you’re in control of the show. You’re always professional on set. I like hearing you laugh, too. We laughed a lot last night. You can be strong and still let your guard down, Cat. You can trust me.”

“We did—and I know.” She smiles down at the rubies, sparkling on a breakfast plate, trimmed in green holly leaves with red berries and a gold edge. “I think you like being the one to make me drop my guard, pretty man.” Her words don’t have their usual edge, the self-protection I may have misconstrued this whole time as venom. “Still, last night stays in the snow globe. Okay?”

For now . If she needs time, I can give her that.

I nod to the earrings. “Put them on. They’re generations old. Many a Larsen woman has passed these down, so, mind the clasp. My mom always said they were too tight.”

She raises her hand to tuck her hair behind her ears, but I beat her to it, gently using my pointer finger to push her hair back, dragging the pads of my fingers lightly around the shell of her ear.

We both shiver, and we both notice.

The silence isn’t awkward. It’s more telling as we size each other up. The shift from hating each other to wanting each other, happening in real time. In this kitchen where my relatives used to summer, and laugh, and love. This is the only place I ever remember feeling like I had a real family as a kid, a thought that shoots through me like a racehorse.

I want this. I want warm fires, waking up with someone, and that elusive feeling of familiar comfort I’ve only tasted with her.

“I’ll go find us breakfast.” I stand abruptly and pull mugs off the counter, handing one to her and taking a sip from mine.

She wraps her hands around the steaming cup, in my grandmother’s crown and fat ruby earrings fit for a queen.

“Shit,” I shake my head to dislodge the thoughts bounding around my ridiculous brain.

“Are you okay?” she asks. Except for my brothers, and Annie, no one asks me that question.

“You look like a queen.” I can’t help myself from telling her the truth.

“Thank you, Winter,” she says softly. “I’ll never forget this birthday, that’s for sure.”

The phone on the wall rings again, ripping my attention regrettably away. “I’ll, uh . . .”

“Get it.” She stands and heads to the door. “Can I borrow your coat? I want to take this coffee for a stroll. The lake looks really beautiful surrounded by all the snow out there.”

I pick up the receiver as she grins at me, “Knock yourself out. Your boots are by the door.”

“Winter?” John’s voice asks.

“Hey, man. I just talked to your girl, what’s up?”

“Oh, you know, she’s freaking out because her sister spent the night with you and now, I’m on a recon mission.”

“Frannie wants you to get intel on me and Cat?”

“Pretty much. Is there a ‘you and Cat’?”

“Well, I’m not sure.” I push my hair away from my face as I try to think of the right words to explain. There’s rustling in the background and the slamming of a door. “Where are you?”

“In my truck, in my driveway. I’ve got about five seconds before Francesca will want to hear what I got out of you. So, let me give you some advice, like you did for me one day not too long ago.”

“You mean, lady advice.”

“Exactly—you want her so bad.”

“Wow,” I deadpan, wiping a smile off my face with my hand. “That’s it? I already know that—wait— how do you know? ” I stand a little straighter because while I’ve realized I’ve got growing feelings for Cat, I hadn’t realized it was so obvious.

“We watched the stream last night, Royal Hearts ,” he chuckles and I mumble dick , under my breath. “It’s weird seeing you on TV. And then you were speeding away with Cat on the back of a horse—wait—did you just say, you know you want her so bad?”

Right. The show, the fans.

“Yup. I’ve worked it all out in my pretty little head. Call it self-sabotage, or wish fulfillment, it’s an odd mix of both, I think. I’m hopelessly enamored with a ball-busting goddess.”

“What are you even saying right now?”

“In layman’s terms, I know I’ve got a thing for your girlfriend’s sister.”

“And you’re fine with that? Cool as a cucumber? Goodbye single Winter? It’s that easy?” he stammers. I’ve shocked him.

A grin spreads wide across my face and I roll my eyes when Lola comes to sit at my feet. “Boss is such a caveman,” I say while scratching her ear.

“Are you talking to your dog about me?”

“Yup, and I really like her, man. Cat,” I add, but he already knows how much I love Lola. “The show is a problem. . . .”

He grunts at my antics. “Well, shit. I guess you wait it out?”

“I think that’s the plan.”

“Who would have thought Winter Larsen would fall so easily for a woman? If you figured everything out all on your own, what do you need me for?”

“Oh, plenty,” I confess, wrapping the cord around my finger like Cat did. Thinking of her lips on mine, thinking about her lips wrapped around something else.

“Like? Leave it to you to get yourself in this kind of pickle.” His chuckle rolls through the line.

“I need an invite to a birthday dinner. Oh, and let me bring the cake—I’ve got a woman to woo.”