Cooped Up for Christmas - Sabrina York Page 0,33

even paying attention? This had always been about Barbie.

I set my hands on my hips, trying to remain calm. Remote. Professional. It was kind of sawing on my last nerve. “You loved me…but you left?”

“You told me to leave. You said…you didn’t want me anymore.”

“I never said that.”

His expression tightened. He tapped his forehead. “It’s burned on my brain.”

“Well, if I said that, I probably didn’t mean it.”

“Probably?”

“I was a kid, for Christ sake. Angry. Hurt. Who knows what I said?”

“I know. I remember.”

“Well, I did want you to leave. I was heartbroken.”

He took me in his arms and held me gently. “I am so sorry, Vic. I wish I’d known.”

Damn it. I hated this. This sympathy hugging shit.

I pulled away. Tipped up my chin. “So now you know.”

“Now I know.” His grin broke. It transformed his face. “You were in love with me. Ah!” He stopped me before I could deny it. “I heard you tell Farley. And I heard her tell you how awesome it is that we have another chance. Don’t you see, Vic? It’s true.”

Was it? Was it really?

“But I’m super-old.” I did my best Wendy Whiner.

He snickered. “If you’re super-old, I’m right there with you.” He leaned in to kiss me, but before our lips met in a blaze of glory, Mungo cleared his throat. Apparently he was right behind us. What was the deal with this library all of a sudden?

“They’re ready to go, boss,” he said.

Coop affected a Highlander’s scowl, but I could tell he was playing. “Och! Dammit all anyway. Just when I had the wee lass where I wanted her.” He released me with a flourish and headed out the room, booming, “Foiled again, dear Yorick. Foiled again.”

Such a doofus. There were no Highlanders in Hamlet.

But I loved him.

God help me.

I loved him.

Chapter Ten

The plan for the afternoon for the guests was that some would go shopping (mostly the females) and the others would go skiing.

The plan for the afternoon for the staff was to clear lunch, make up beds, clean all the suites, sanitize, clean up the occasional teen-aged guest vomit, sanitize again, set up for dinner, and then completely transform a fairly normal great room in a luxury chalet into a fairy paradise. Fortunately, I had all faith that Ken Nora was the man for the job. When he heard what we were doing, Farley’s friend Jaxon decided to stay back and help us because decorating was his jam.

On the one hand, it was a bummer to have one of the guests present, because we all had to stay on our best behavior—and where’s the fun in that? But on the other hand, Jaxon was a pretty funny guy. He had a sharp wit and an undeniable flair. And once we warmed up to each other—you know, got a feel for each other’s foibles and limits—we really had a blast.

With all of us chipping in, and with Ken’s clever idea to use the white Christmas decorations as a base for the Fairy Ball décor, it didn’t take long to layer colorful scarves here and there with tiny invisible fans making them ruffle like feathers. Bling sparkled throughout the room. With that, and some disco lights colliding through just a hint of fog, it was magical.

I’d never seen anything so pretty, although in the decorating of it, Jed got all tangled up in the lights. Ken had to help him untangle because I was laughing too hard. And then, when I was exhausted from that, I started having the kinds of thoughts I couldn’t share in a work environment.

In short, I was thinking of Coop in that situation, and how much I would enjoy it. You have to admit, the thought of a hot, muscular, sexy man all tangled up in Christmas lights, all helpless like a kitten is kind of tempting, isn’t it?

Yeah. Thinking like that sometimes gets me through the day.

After Ken no longer needed me, I went to see how Noel was doing with Christmas dinner. I nearly stumbled to my knees when the aroma in the kitchen hit me. My mouth began to drool.

“Good Lord, what are you making?”

Noel glanced at me. “Roast Beef. Yorkshire pudding. Ze menu. Oui?”

“I meant it smells very good.”

“Bon. Merci.” He bent down over his cell phone screen, snorted, and swiped vigorously.

“Is something wrong?” I asked. Normally Eden’s chefs were well versed in all possible requests—in the sense that they rarely, if ever, had to look recipes up on the internet.

Apparently,