Christmas Sugar (Insta-Spark)

A guest? Didn’t care?

She only thought of me as a guest?

That upset me, although I wasn’t sure why.

“Yes,” I said shortly. “Seth brought me my dinner.”

“Are you down here because you’ve drunk all your own brandy?”

“I wanted to watch the hockey game. The TV in the bar is bigger.”

Her gaze took in the TV, and she noticed her daughter curled up on the sofa. “Why is Noelle down here?”

I snorted. “Your babysitter failed again. He fell asleep.”

?

?And?” she demanded.

“Your daughter was looking for company. She came to find me and found her way downstairs. Rather than send her upstairs alone again, I let her fall asleep here—with me.” Still smarting from her remark about me only being a guest, I added, “It interrupted my evening, but I let her stay anyway.”

“She was bothering you?”

“Seth isn’t exactly the most reliable caregiver, it seems. And neither of your children know much about boundaries, do they? She just shows up and . . . injects herself,” I muttered, instantly regretting my words when her face paled.

Brushing past me, she gathered up Noelle in her arms. “I apologize. Thank you for sitting with her and being so kind. I’ll make sure she doesn’t bother you again. Enjoy the rest of your evening, and I’ll be down in a while to turn off the lights.”

“Alex . . .”

Her voice was cool. “Is there anything you need, Mr. Maxwell? Something I can get you before you retire for the night?”

“No.”

I watched her walk away, her head up, shoulders back. Leaning down, she punched the call button for the elevator. The doors slid open and she stepped inside. Our gazes met, and the sadness I saw in hers made my chest ache.

I put that sadness there.

The doors shut before I could apologize.

I TOSSED AND TURNED ALL night. The image of Alex’s sad eyes kept running through my head. Twice, I had started down the hall to knock on her door before I retired for the night, but I thought better of it. I needed to talk to her in private and at length—not in the hall with her kids listening, and not when she was already tired and upset.

I got up later than normal and got ready for the day. The inn was quiet, the storm outside still going, but not as fierce as last evening. I knew I wasn’t going anywhere today. I was determined to speak with Alex and apologize for my harsh words.

The front lobby was deserted, the fire burning low as I walked through, wondering where everyone was. I stopped and added a log, stifling a grin when I realized Seth had passed out on the sofa, softly snoring. He certainly loved to sleep. His hair was damp, as were the bottom of his pants. I guessed he’d been out shoveling snow. His boots were sitting on the mantel; I pushed them a little closer to the fire so they’d dry out—the way it was snowing out there, he’d be out a lot today. I lifted one up, noticing how worn-out it was. He really needed the new pair I’d bought him. With a frown, I placed it back beside its mate, wondering if Alex would let me give them to him. If she would accept any of the gifts I had bought.

I walked into the bar area, pleased when I saw the coffee was ready. Alex made great coffee. I grabbed a cup and strolled to the window, looking out at the storm. The trees were heavy with snow, even their strong limbs bending under the weight. The wind blew and gusted, the entire world white and blurry with the non-ending swirls.

I turned back, surprised to see the little figure in the corner. Noelle was busy coloring, her head down, shoulders hunched, her curls covering her face. I cleared my throat, waiting for her usual exuberant greeting, frowning when she glanced up, offering a trace of a smile, then lowering her head to her coloring again. I crossed the room and sat down beside her, setting down my coffee cup.

“Morning, Little Owl.”

“Hi, Mista Dywan,” she replied, her voice subdued. She went back to coloring, although her actions were less than enthusiastic.

“Are you feeling all right?”

“Yeth.”

I leaned forward, not liking the sad version of my little girl. “Is something wrong?”