His Brother's Christmas Bride Read online

  When he turned, he found that she was right at his back, far too close for the small room. What was it about her presence that made such a huge house seem too small?

  “Would you prefer to run up and grab your jacket, or use one of mine?” He indicated the collection hanging behind her, the greys and olive greens drab compared to her bright splash of color.

  “I don’t mind using one of yours.” Her eyes were bright as she looked up at him, studying him. His skin heated and prickled at her gaze. Their eyes met and his breath caught in his lungs. Despite his proximity, she made no effort to move away, as mesmerized by his proximity as he was by hers. Or maybe she was watching him carefully to make sure he didn’t make a move.

  Yes, that was probably it.

  That thought broke the spell that had been cast over him. Will tore his gaze away and reached up to grasp the nearest jacket. Carefully, he set it over her shoulders, determined not to touch her.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He nodded, afraid to speak, and opened the door to step outside. The cold air slapped him in the face, forcing sense back into his brain.

  What the hell was happening to him? Since his divorce, he’d barely noticed women. He hadn’t intended to ever again. In fact, he’d been living in his parents’ house to avoid people all together, but particularly women.

  And now one look at Molly, the least appropriate woman for him to be interested in, and his reaction to her was out of control. Was it because she was forbidden? Or was it the woman herself? He wished he could believe it was because she was a temptation he couldn’t have, but he was honest enough to admit to himself he wouldn’t be having this reaction to any woman, engagement to his brother or no.

  Molly was exactly who he pictured as his ideal woman. And the more he got to know her, the truer it became.

  But there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He wasn’t about to make a move on her. She was engaged, and to his brother. Considering his own history, he couldn’t be a cheater himself. And even if he told Molly how he felt—which would be a mad thing to do after only a few hours in her company—and even if she reciprocated, he wouldn’t break up his brother’s relationship.

  He needed to keep himself under control. This crush would disappear as quickly as it came, and no one ever needed to know Will once had salacious thoughts about his brother’s soon-to-be wife.

  Molly shivered in the cold and pulled the jacket tighter around her. His chest kicked at the sight of her in his clothes, but he ignored it. And he intended to keep ignoring those reactions until they went away.

  “Anywhere in particular you want to see?” he asked. They couldn’t go far, not with her shoes. But the land surrounding the house was the nicest part of the property.

  “Anywhere that would be nice for a ceremony,” she said with a smile.

  He nodded. Wedding. Marriage. Brother. He’d keep repeating those words to himself until they stuck, to stop himself doing something he’d regret.

  Or he’d never forgive himself.

  Chapter Four

  Will rose at dawn after a night of tossing, turning, and self-recriminations.

  After giving Molly a tour of the property, he let her explore the area on her own, making notes in that colorful little notebook of hers. For dinner, he grabbed a sandwich and hid in his room. Cowardly? Perhaps. But more than anything it was self-preservation.

  He had to avoid Molly for as long as she was here, it was the only way. Not only would it stop him falling even deeper under her spell, it would also stop him from doing anything stupid, like making a move. He liked to believe he had better self-control than that. But, frankly, he no longer trusted himself.

  And that was the worst thing of all. He could no longer trust himself not to be the kind of man he hated most in this world. A cheater, a betrayer.

  Dread pooled in his gut at the knowledge.

  Guilt had eaten at him all night. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t acted on these feelings. That he was having them at all was more than enough.

  If he could grab a mug of tea and escape to his workshop before Molly awakened, he’d have an excuse to stay away all day. And he had plenty of work to occupy his time, provided he could find his focus.

  Only, when he stepped into the kitchen, he found he wasn’t alone.

  “Morning,” Molly said with a smile. She sipped her tea, eyeing him over the rim of her mug.

  Her purple hair wasn’t as elaborately pinned today; she’d piled it in a messy bun on top of her head. She wore a dress similar to yesterday’s, this time in a bright red with white polka dots.

  She’d paired the outfit with some ankle boots, no doubt with the intention of traipsing about in the snow.

  Will was suddenly struck by the domesticity of the situation. They were alone in the house, in the early hours of the morning, Molly’s eyes still soft and sleepy, her face bare of make up, and Will’s hair no doubt standing on end from where he’d shifted against his pillow all night.

  The moment cocooned them in a sense of intimacy, thickening the air so it was hard for him to breathe. He forced air into his lungs, and with it came reason.

  It wasn’t like he and Molly had shared a bed. The house was big enough it could pass as a large bed and breakfast, or a small hotel, so it was no different than any other two strangers waking in the same place.

  It was only because it was her that he felt this way. Because he’d spent the night thinking of her.

  “You’re an early riser,” he commented, heading toward the kettle. He turned the burner on and then found a mug and teabag.

  “Always have been,” she answered. “I like to get things out of the way early.”

  He was the same, but he refused to comment on that. Refused to let them bond over similarities.

  “I’ll be in my workshop most of the day,” he told her as he popped some bread in the toaster. “I have a lot of orders to finish in the next few days. If you need me, you know where to find me.”

  “Right,” she said, and was that a hint of disappointment in her eyes? No, he was imagining it. He had to be.

  The kettle whistled, so he poured himself a cup and set it aside to brew. Then, he busied himself making toast, determinedly not looking at Molly. It didn’t stop him being aware of her, though. Her presence burned into his back like the sun.

  Was she staring at him, or was that, too, his imagination?

  Almost too late, he remembered his brother’s request that he look out for Molly. She was a guest, even if she’d been thrust upon him unwillingly. She didn’t deserve his rudeness simply because he was out of practice as a host. “Have you had breakfast?” he asked gruffly, not meeting her gaze.

  “Not yet.”

  “Want me to put on some toast for you? Or I have cereal.” Did he have eggs? Bacon? Should he offer that instead?

  “Toast would be great,” she said, relieved.

  “Needless to say,” Will told her. “Make yourself at home while you’re here.” Technically, it would be her home soon. At least half of it. Or was it a quarter, since she’d be getting half of Peter’s half? Either way.

  Not that he expected Peter and Molly to spend much time here after they married. Certainly Peter hadn’t been here for years, and Will doubted that would change after the wedding, even if Molly liked it. Her opinion hadn’t changed after the stories he’d told yesterday, either.

  “I stole some stuff from the fridge for dinner last night, I hope that’s okay.”

  Guilt speared him. He should have been a better host. Instead, he’d taken the coward’s way out and hid from her, leaving her alone in this unfamiliar house.

  “Of course it’s fine. I don’t often cook, since it’s only me, so I forgot. But while you’re here I’ll do better.”

  “I’m happy to help,” she said enthusiastically. “I like cooking, but like you, I don’t bother when it’s just me.”

  Did she cook for Peter? Clearly, they didn’t yet live together
if she was still alone enough not to cook. Or did Peter’s usual workaholic tendencies bring him home late?

  He was again struck by how little he knew of Peter and Molly’s relationship, but couldn’t bring himself to ask about their domestic situation. He didn’t want to know. They could’ve been together for months or even years, and Peter had never bothered to tell Will, or forgot he hadn’t. Or they might only been dating a short time, but were so madly in love that they couldn’t wait to get married. Either way, it wasn’t any of Will’s business. They were adults making their own choices, and he’d do what he could to make them happy. They deserved that much.

  “So tonight? A proper dinner? I should have the ingredients for pasta.”

  “It’s a date,” she told him happily.

  Will’s heart kicked and he ruthlessly ignored it. Not a date. It was an expression, nothing to be excited about. But an increasingly vocal part of his mind wished it was a date.

  He sighed, utterly disgusted with himself.

  Finally the toast was ready, so Will brought both plates over to the table and forced himself to sit across from Molly, no matter how much he wished he could flee into his workshop. The sensation of intimacy from earlier returned full force. Sharing breakfast in the early morning was even more familiar than simply sharing a kitchen.

  Molly bit into her toast, unaffected by the same turmoil he was.

  He cast his mind about for a topic of conversation to distract himself. “So after the wedding, what’s next for you?”

  “Oh, you know. More clients. More work. I’m still building a new business, so that takes time and sacrifice. I’m determined it’ll be successful, though.” Her expression told him she had the grit to succeed, despite her bubbly personality.

  And no honeymoon? Interesting.

  “You’ve started your own business,” she commented. “And work all the time, too.”

  He nodded. “Hard to stop when there’s always more to be done. When you figure if you just work hard enough, you can make it a success.”

  “Right, you get it.”

  More things they had in common, more shared experience. More things to bond over, despite his better judgment. Under normal circumstances, it would be a positive he was getting on so well with his future sister-in-law. But not like this.

  “So you have any hobbies?” she asked. “Outside of work, I mean.”

  Will considered for a moment. “I read.”

  “And that’s all?” He wasn’t sure what that look in her eye was. Pity? Heat pooled in his cheeks.

  He shrugged. “Not much else to do around here.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “And yet you choose to live here. Why?”

  “I like the quiet,” he told her, leaving out all the other hundreds of reasons he stayed away from the real world.

  Molly fell silent at that, running her thumb over the rough grains of the table wood. Before she could ask anything else, he sorted through his mind for another suitable conversation topic. He was so out of practice talking with another human being he was like a robot with a programmed list of acceptable small talk.

  “Do you have any hobbies?” he asked eventually. The obvious topic, but a safe one.

  “Yes,” she said, brightening. “I swing dance. Go to classes once a week.”

  Will blinked, attempting to picture his brother swing dancing and failing. She must do that alone.

  “That sound fun.” He attempted to inject some enthusiasm into his voice and failed.

  She laughed, and the musical sound slid over his skin like a perfect melody. “It is, actually. You should try it sometime.”

  Will shook his head. “Last time I danced was at my wedding. And let me assure you, everyone is glad of that.”

  “You can’t be that bad.”

  “Oh, I can. Believe me.”

  She shook he head. “No way. I’ll get you to dance one day and prove you wrong.”

  “Not happening.”

  “It will. I’m very determined.”

  Will let it go with a grin, but there was no way he’d embarrass himself in front of her with his moves, which he had video evidence were somehow worse than his drunk uncle flailing at his wedding, even after weeks of waltz lessons.

  “Any plans for Christmas Day?” he asked lightly, then polished off a slice of toast.

  “Nothing special,” she told him. “My parents live in Florida, so it’s a bit far for either of us to go.”

  Will would definitely place the blame for her lack of Christmas plans, and absent honeymoon, at Peter’s door. No doubt the guy intended to work right through the holidays.

  “Well, you’ll be here after the wedding, I assume. We could do something?” He’d force Peter to celebrate with them if he had to.

  Her eyes warmed in what he hoped was sisterly affection but made his heart flutter anyway. “I’d like that.”

  She was dangerous to his equilibrium, and it was increasingly difficult for him to keep his feelings hidden. They fell silent for a moment, Will now desperate to finish his breakfast as quickly as possible so he could make his escape.

  “I’ll spend the next day or so making a list of everything I’ll need from town, then head in to get it all in one go.”

  He nodded. “Makes sense.”

  “Any suggestions you want to make about the wedding? You know Peter best, after all.”

  “Nope.” He stuffed the rest of the toast in his mouth and chewed rapidly before washing the whole thing down with a mouthful of tea. “I better get to work. You know where to find me.”

  With that he took off toward his workshop, leaving Molly staring after him with a bewildered expression. He wished he could explain, but what could he possibly say? “I’m sorry, I can’t talk about the wedding, because the thought of you with another man—my brother—makes me want to punch something”? No way.

  His first plan was the best and only one—avoid Molly as much as possible.

  She found him later that afternoon. It was his favorite time of day in the workshop, when the sun hit at the perfect angle to bathe the whole space in its rich golden glow.

  He didn’t notice her at first, his back to the door as he ran his sandpaper over the cabriole leg of the table he’d almost finished building. She must have made a sound—or he was simply that in tune to her presence. Will spun around to see her hovering in the doorway. The light illuminated her like an old-fashioned movie star in a glamor shot.

  She wore his jacket again, and Will was torn between wanting to wrap it further around her, and tearing it from her as his mouth fused to hers.

  Christ, she was beautiful.

  He cleared his throat, wrenching his traitorous mind from the images it conjured. “Hi,” he managed.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” she told him.

  “No problem,” he said, even though it was a problem. He’d likely never work in this space again without seeing her here, distracting him. Not that it was her fault—he was the only one who could control his own thoughts—but he hadn’t quite figured out how yet. But he would.

  He had to.

  “I think I’ve found the perfect spot to hold the ceremony. Inside the tree line there’s this small glade…”

  “I know it.” A beautiful, magical place. Molly was absolutely right, it would be perfect for a wedding ceremony. She’d stand there in a dress—he couldn’t imagine her in white, but perhaps she had a hidden traditional streak—and Peter would be next to him in a tux. If he wasn’t careful, he’d imagine himself as the groom, and Peter as the best man. He forced his mind away even as his chest swelled at the image.

  Will had his chance at marriage, and it hadn’t worked out. Spectacularly so. He had no intention of putting himself through that again, no matter what crazy thoughts Molly conjured within him.

  “Right. Well, there’s something that would make the place even more perfect.”

  Will’s stomach dropped. He doubted he’d like whatever would come next. “Oh?”

&n
bsp; “An arch. I can weave roses through it. About seven or eight feet tall. And since you’re a carpenter…” She trailed off and gazed at him expectantly.

  “You want me to make you an arch? Like, a lattice thing?”

  “Exactly. Is that terrible of me? I know you’re super busy.”

  Guilt stabbed him in the kidney. He wasn’t that busy, he was using work as an excuse to escape her presence. But did he want to build something for Molly, knowing she would stand beneath it as she married another man?

  Yes.

  It would be the perfect reminder that she wasn’t his, and never would be.

  He could treat it as his wedding present to the happy couple, since it wasn’t like he’d have time to go out and buy anything. Besides, the most important thing was to make Molly happy.

  “Sure,” he said.

  “Really?” she asked, her eyes bright as she hugged her notebook to her chest. “It’ll be so beautiful.”

  So will you. “Yeah,” he murmured gruffly.

  “I’ll let you design it, since you clearly know this stuff better than me.” Her eyes roved over the workshop, appreciation in her gaze. “You’re very talented. Wait, I already told you that.”

  His cheeks warmed even as his chest puffed out. “Thanks. Never hurts to hear it.”

  “I’m definitely keeping you in mind for future clients, too.”

  “That would be great.” Not that he needed much more work, but he did need the distraction. And a partnership with an interior designer in the city could only help him. He might have to raise his prices soon, again, if he was too much in demand. Will was blessed, doing a job he loved, creative and solitary.

  “Right, well. I’ll leave you to it.” She cast another glance around the space, eyes lingering. Will almost called her back, but for what? So he could talk to her more? Fall for her even harder? He wanted to spend more time with her, but that was his heart talking, not the logical part of his brain. And logic was what he needed here.

  Logic, and the reminder that he wouldn’t turn into his parents, or his ex-wife. He wouldn’t be unfaithful, wouldn’t encourage someone else to do the same. He already hated himself enough, and he had no intention of actually acting on his unwilling thoughts.