Christmas Sugar (Insta-Spark)

“Not long before the accident, Eric had convinced me to reinvest and do some upgrading. I took a huge mortgage on the place.” His hands curled on the arms of his wheelchair, his anger showing.

“And?” I prompted.

“The contractor we hired screwed us over. He took the money, did next to nothing, and disappeared. Add in the accident and the bills I was left with, it’s been a never-ending struggle.”

I didn’t say anything. His story helped explain how he ended up in such a mess. It was tragic and awful—and cost him everything he held dear.

“I held on to hope as long as I could, that one day I’d walk again, be able to find a way to make this all right. But instead, I’m getting older, and soon won’t be able to care for myself at all. As it is, I need more help every week. I need to move to a place where I can get that care without feeling guilty for asking anything more from the one person who has given up her life for me. She deserves happiness—a home, and another chance at a real family.”

“Your daughter-in-law?”

He looked me in the eye. “Yes. Alexis. Alex is my daughter-in-law.”

I hurried down the hall, my cheeks burning, my mind racing. I ducked into one of the doors marked Staff Only and leaned against the rough wood. My breathing was fast, my skin flushed all over, and my lips still felt him.

Dylan Maxwell.

When he had walked into the inn last night, my entire world fell off its axis. Standing in front of the fire, his fists clenched, he was out of place in my shabby lobby. Sharp cheekbones slashed across his stern face, and his deep brown hair shot with gray fell over his forehead in messy waves. His gaze was intense—light blue irises that stood out under heavy eyebrows. His overcoat stretched across his broad shoulders, suiting his tall frame. No doubt it cost more than I made in a month. Maybe two. He was frowning, looking around, seemingly almost . . . lost?

For one brief moment, I thought he was a stranger, someone needing a room, and I smiled at him warmly, wanting somehow to help him. His own smile changed his face. The detachment vanished, and his expression was open and inviting.

Seconds passed, and there was only us. Smiling at each other.

Until he spoke.

Until I knew for sure, he was the man who was going to buy the property and force me to move from the one place I had called home for so many years.

He was arrogant, demanding, and cold.

Infuriating.

I did my best to be polite and accommodating. I had to call a friend who owned a fancy restaurant down the road and beg her to sell me a bottle of Courvoisier since the liquor store was closed. She lived over the restaurant and met me partway to save me time when I explained about the error. Then I rushed back to the inn and made him dinner. I thought I’d finally done everything right for him, until I found him in the hall with Noelle.

And she repeated what I had muttered in a fit of anger.

Asshole.

To say his reaction stunned me would be an understatement. His laughter had been loud and rich. His forgiveness shocking. His acceptance of his dinner and his gratitude for it this morning, unexpected.

I couldn’t keep my eyes off him as he ate breakfast with Noelle and Seth. His bewilderment was endearing. His patience with Noelle another surprise.

Until we were alone.

Until he spoke.

Until he kissed me.

The yearning that exploded when his mouth crashed on mine was overwhelming. He awoke feelings in me that had been dormant for years. The shock of the moment hit me, and I had run, unsure how to deal with him.

I couldn’t believe he kissed me.

I couldn’t believe how much I liked it.

When I took him to see George, his quiet words, innuendos, and teasing left me feeling off-kilter.

It had been so long since a man had made me feel that way.

I wanted him to kiss me again. I wanted to feel his hard body pressed to mine—to feel his strength and power as he held me. To feel his demanding mouth on mine again. To forget everything and everyone, and give in to the desire he stirred within me.