Chloe

Chloe tried to get her heartbeat to slow down. She couldn’t believe she’d run into Ethan two nights in a row. Was he some sort of insomniac or had he been waiting for her?

Chloe didn’t know which answer she preferred. She had to admit when she woke up her first thoughts had been of him.

Of course they had. She’d fallen asleep thinking of his kiss and when she woke up at nearly midnight she knew she’d never fall back asleep with Margot’s snoring. But ever the optimist, Chloe decided to make the most of her time and write in her journal. When that didn’t help she finally decided on a cup of hot cocoa.

As she dressed in her pink, fuzzy robe, she wondered, maybe even hoped, she’d run into Ethan in the hall again. It almost made her look for a cuter alternative to her unflattering bathrobe. But in the end, comfort won out and she bundled up to head downstairs with her book, leaving Darcy snoring away with Margot.

After making it down the hallway and the stairs without running into Ethan, Chloe had thought she was safe. So when she saw someone move on the couch she nearly had a heart attack. She tried to tell herself that was why her heart was pounding in her chest. But clearly, Ethan's handsome face illuminated by the firelight didn't help the matter.

She needed to distance herself from him until she knew what she wanted. She didn’t want to keep confusing him. Chloe kept her mind busy while she sorted through her hot cocoa stash, selecting a peppermint mocha mix to try. Tonight she managed to find a moderately tame Christmas mug. It was red with a candy cane striped handle and the words, Merry Christmas, printed in white. At least it was store-bought.

Chloe poured Ethan's hot cocoa into the mild holiday mug, saving the hand-painted penguin one for herself. She added some extra mini marshmallows, whipped cream and drizzled chocolate syrup on top of her concoction. Satisfied with her cocoa, she picked up both mugs and headed toward the living room, but she didn’t get far. Ethan was leaning against the doorframe watching her. His eyes held a keen curiosity that made her skin warm.

A few months ago she would’ve given anything to have Brady look at her like that. Now Chloe wasn't sure if anyone’s smoldering stare could compete with Ethan’s.

It was funny how quickly things could change. Two days ago she'd never heard of Ethan Hall. But he’d quickly become the center of her universe—despite how hard she was fighting to deny it.

Chloe forced herself to walk confidently toward him. She handed him the mug, her blood sizzling the moment their fingers touched.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, making her feet continue to carry her away from him. Half of her wanted to just go back upstairs and hide in her bedroom but if she did that now she’d be doing it the rest of winter break and Chloe refused to be uncomfortable in her own home.

Plus, who was she kidding? She would do nothing but think about Ethan if she went upstairs now.

Chloe could feel his eyes on her while she moved about the living room, turning the fireplace up and collecting her favorite blanket. One of the three Christmas trees in the living room had forced her favorite reading chair into the foyer, so Chloe was faced with only the worn leather couch or tiny plaid loveseat. She chose the couch. It faced the fireplace and at least it was large enough to share if Ethan decided to join her.

He did.

At first he settled on the arm of the couch, sipping from his mug. “This is even better than last night’s cocoa,” he said.

“Wait till you try the cinnamon horchata,” she said. “That one’s my favorite.”

“Is that an invitation?”

Chloe could feel the air in the room change when Ethan spoke. Was he flirting with her?

Luckily when she looked at him she could see the amusement in his teasing smirk.

“So,” he said. “Pine trees and hot cocoa, huh? That’s what does it for you?”

She knew he was poking fun at her so she decided to go with it, holding up her book. “And don’t forget cheesy romance novels.”

He laughed.

The sound was thrilling.

“I like you better at night,” Ethan added.

Chloe almost choked on her cocoa. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

He shrugged. “Maybe just an observation.”

“Why do you like me better at night?”

“You talk more freely.” He slid onto the couch. “And sometimes you kiss me.”

Chloe laughed nervously, deciding to keep the teasing tone of their conversation, because she currently liked Ethan better at night, too. At least he wasn’t stabbing his chili and stomping away from her. “I kiss you during the day, too,” she teased, surprised by her boldness.

He shook his head. “No, I’m the one who kissed you today, Chloe.”

She swallowed hard. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t as bold as she thought. She couldn’t casually flirt with him. Not when he said her name like that. It made her heart go haywire. She swallowed again. “Ethan . . .”

He interrupted her. “I know you have a boyfriend you’re trying to get over.”

“An ex-boyfriend,” she corrected.

“Is that why you kissed me last night? To see if you’re over him?”

Chloe squirmed under his gaze. She didn’t know how to answer that question, because she didn’t really know the answer herself. She kissed Ethan because she’d wanted to—because the increasing attraction between them was becoming impossible to resist. And if she wasn’t careful, she was pretty sure she might kiss him again. “I shouldn’t have kissed you, Ethan. I’m sorry.”

His lopsided frown evened out. “I’m not.”

An electric silence settled between them.

Ethan was the first to break it. “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends what it is.”

“Why did you break up with your boyfriend?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because maybe if you think about all the reasons you don’t want to be with him it’ll help you get over him.”

Chloe shook her head. “I don’t think that’ll work.”

“Why not?”

“Because he broke up with me.”

Ethan laughed. “Poor bastard.”

“Poor bastard!” Chloe huffed. “What about me? I’m the one who got dumped.”

“Yes, but you’re gorgeous and enigmatic. Guys will be beating down the door to date you for the rest of your life. But this ex-boyfriend of yours is obviously a moron, and stupid isn’t something he’s likely to outgrow. Plus, if he does wise up he’s just going to realize how bad he screwed up by letting a girl like you slip away. So ya see, the poor bastard can’t win.”

Chloe couldn’t help but laugh. She’d never heard rejection described so eloquently. “Well, when you put it that way . . .” She laughed again, but then something Ethan said clicked. Was that why Brady had come back? Had he realized he screwed up? Was he really trying to get her back?

“What?” Ethan asked.

“Nothing, it’s just something you said about my ex.”

“He’s the one who came looking for you at the lodge today, isn’t he?”

Chloe nodded.

Ethan huffed a laugh. “Maybe he’s not such a moron.”

Chloe stared at Ethan trying to decipher his comment as he sipped his hot cocoa. She always felt there was so much meaning between his words. Did he ever just say what he was thinking?

It was maddening.

“It’s my turn to ask you a question.”

Ethan slid onto the couch, making himself comfortable. “Shoot.”

“Why are you and your brother so different?”

Ethan smirked. “Picked up on that, did ya?”

“It’s pretty easy to notice.”

“You’d be surprised,” he said. “Some people just see what they want to see. And when you’re a carbon copy of someone else, your individuality can get overlooked.”

“I know what you mean,” Chloe said, thinking of how she always felt like the duller version of Margot.

“Is that why you try so hard to be nothing like your sister?” Ethan asked.

Chloe let her eyes meet Ethan’s, surprised how well he read her. She wasn’t ready to answer that question yet. “You still haven’t answered my question,” she teased.

But when she thought about what Ethan asked the answer surprised Chloe. She did try to be different from Margot. Was that why she dressed drab and focused on books rather than herself?

“Owen spent more time with our father than I did,” Ethan said, drawing Chloe back to their conversation.

“Why?”

“He wasn’t a pleasant man. Our parents separated because of it and that’s about the time I stopped trying to get him to like me.” He shrugged. “I figured if my mother wasn’t successful then I’d never be.”

He thought his father hated him?

Chloe didn’t know what to do with that. “Oh,” she said, softly. “Did they get divorced?”

“Eventually. It’s my turn to ask a question.”

“Okay.”

“Tell me about your ex-boyfriend.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Why are you so interested in him?”

“Because he seems to be the only thing standing between me and your lips.”

Chloe felt heat wash her from head-to-toe. She swallowed thickly trying to slow her racing heart. “His name’s Brady Jones. He lives next door.”

Ethan groaned and let his head fall back against the couch. He brought his hand to his heart in a stabbing motion and sighed.

Chloe furrowed her brow. “What?”

“You didn’t tell me I was competing with the boy next door.”

“Competing?”

Ethan sat up, his crooked smirk back in place. “I thought I was being fairly obvious, Chloe. I like you. And despite your warnings, I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.”

“Oh,” she said again.

He laughed. “You’re not real good for my ego, Chloe.”

“Sorry.”

He shrugged. “Let’s go back to our questions. I think it’s your turn.”

“Okay,” she said. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“I told you, I couldn’t sleep.”

“But why?”

“Partly because of you, partly because of Owen’s snoring and partly because it’s Christmas Eve.”

Chloe decided to skip over the first part of his answer. She wasn’t ready to address the fact that he’d been thinking about her tonight, too. “You’re a big Christmas Eve fan?”

“Not exactly.”

She sighed. “Your answers always leave me with more questions.”

“Maybe you should ask better questions. My turn. What’s your favorite Christmas memory?”

She thought back, but all her memories muddled into one endless loop. It was hard when Christmas lasted all year in her house. “Honestly, they’re all good. But I think my favorite Christmas was the year the pond froze and we all went ice skating on Christmas morning.”

Ethan smiled. “How old were you?”

Chloe thought back. “Probably nine or ten. I used to love to ice skate.”

Ethan’s smirk grew.

“What?”

“I’m just imagining nine-year-old Chloe. You must’ve been a tornado of hair on ice,” he teased tugging on a strand of hair sticking out from her messy topknot.

“Hey!” she swatted at his hand playfully. “I clean up when I try.”

“I like that you don’t try.”

When Ethan looked at her it felt like all the air in the room had been vacuumed out. Chloe needed to keep him talking, otherwise she knew her lips would find a way to his. Before she could think of another question, Ethan asked one.

“So, ice skating, huh? Do you still do it?”

“No. It’s been years since. The pond rarely freezes enough anymore and I don’t even have a pair of skates that fit.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just outgrew it.” Chloe was noticing that was a theme lately. She’d outgrown her love of her family business, she’d outgrown her small town, she’d outgrown her skates, maybe she’d even outgrown Brady. Because for the life of her she couldn’t remember a single thing about him that she liked better than every part of Ethan.

She pulled her blushing thoughts back to their conversation about skating. “I miss it,” she said quietly. “My grandpa used to tell me he was going to take me skating at Rockefeller Center.”

“Did he?”

She shook her head as sadness filled her heart. “He didn’t get the chance.”

“What happened?”

Chloe’s eyes met Ethan’s and she was grateful she didn’t have to say the words. She recognized the understanding in his calm green eyes. She forced a smile. “Maybe some day I’ll get to.” Wanting to change the subject she asked Ethan another question. “What’s your favorite Christmas memory?”

He shrugged. “Probably this.”

“This? Sitting on a couch with a stranger? And it’s not even Christmas.”

“You’re hardly a stranger, Chloe.”

The way he said her name made her blood sizzle. Never had her name sounded so sexy. Chloe put her mug of cocoa on the coffee table. It was making her too hot. And so was the damn robe she was wearing. She untied the belt and shrugged out of it, laying it over the back of the couch.

Ethan watched her movements with interest.

“You know, you still haven’t answered my question,” she said as she got comfortable.

“Which one?”

“What’s so special about Christmas Eve?”

Ethan’s expression hardened and he took a sip of his cocoa.

Ethan

If Owen were here he’d be changing the subject right about now. He never wanted to talk about this. But what did it matter if he told Chloe? It’s not like Ethan would be hurting his chances with her. She was hung up on her ex and in all likelihood Ethan would never see her again after he went back to Manhattan. Maybe saying the truth out loud would help him heal. God knew nothing else had.

Ethan pondered how to answer. Owen would be pissed, but it wasn’t Ethan’s fault that his brother hadn’t told Margot all the messy details of their family. Owen should’ve thought of that before he brought Ethan here and intertwined their lives. Besides, Margot would find out eventually if Owen was as serious about her as he said.

He set his mug of hot cocoa down on the coffee table and rested his elbows on his knees. “The thing about Christmas Eve is that it’s the day Victoria Townsend died.” He took a breath. “She was my mother.”

The crackling of logs in the fireplace was the only sound in the room. Ethan focused on the dancing yellow-orange flames, watching the glowing embers pulse with life. The warmth coming from the hearth comforted him but it did little to dull the chill of his words.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d said her name out loud and he hated that. Before his mother died, her name had been everywhere. Her initials monogramed on pillows, purses, towels, and such. And it was always in the newspaper. ‘New York Heiress donates millions’ and other such headlines were synonymous with her name. Ethan was always so proud to call her his mother.

She had come from an extremely wealthy family—old money, born and bred in New York’s high society. His father, however, had no money of his own before marrying Victoria. And if it were up to Alexander Hall, Ethan and Owen would’ve been left penniless and on the street the moment she died. Thankfully, Ethan’s grandmother had stepped in to see that didn’t happen. But it wasn’t long before she left them, too. In the end, none of them had really been Ethan’s to lose anyway.

He hadn’t realized Chloe had moved closer until he felt her hand slip into his.

“I’m sorry,” she said, softly.

He nodded, chewing hard on his bottom lip to keep his emotions in check.

“When did she pass away?” Chloe asked.

“Six years ago today.”

“What happened to her?”

“Cancer.”

Chloe squeezed his hand. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“No,” he said quickly, his eyes suddenly finding hers.

He was surprised to see something other than pity there. That wasn’t what he craved. He craved understanding, compassion, connection. And he saw each of those emotions in Chloe’s bright eyes. They glowed like liquid amber in the firelight and Ethan wanted to drown in them.

He wanted to dive in and bathe in Chloe’s warmth and beauty, leaving his sorrow behind. He wanted to let her kiss away all the grief that refused to ever fully let go of him. But more than that, he wanted to feel he was allowed to miss his mother. Because he did—even after everything she kept from him.