Winter Heat Read online

  Phoebe laughs. “She’s lying. I’m about to go tell Santa over there to put you on the naughty list, young lady.”

  “Will you please go away?” Mariah grumbles to her.

  “Convince her that you both need to move home,” Phoebe rushes out before scrambling toward Spencer.

  “Your family sounds like mine,” I say. “Nearly every conversation is about coming home.”

  She nods. “Every single year. Never fails.”

  “Want to finally catch up?” I jerk my head toward an empty table.

  “Sure.” She shrugs.

  People’s eyes are on us as we sit down. Almost everyone knows the history of our families.

  “Why do I feel like everyone is watching?” she asks.

  “Because everyone is watching.”

  She covers her face. “I hate being people’s entertainment.”

  I lean back in my chair. “What have you been up to the past few years?” Since I asked around, I know some, but I'd know everything if I had my way.

  She blows out a breath. “I moved to LA, went to culinary school, and never scored the job of my dreams. You?”

  “Moved to New York and sold some real estate.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  The corner of my mouth tips up. “You been keeping tabs on me?”

  “No,” she rushes out.

  I grin. “Oh, yes, you have.”

  Her cheeks turn as red as Santa’s hat. “You’re crazy.”

  I like that she’s wondered about me. “Why haven’t you found your dream job yet?”

  “Lack of opportunity … lack of funds.”

  I fight back a frown, hating that money’s kept her from her dream. She’d wanted to take over her mother’s business, and my family took that opportunity away from her.

  I can make this right. “What about my offer? Rent isn’t too expensive, and I’m willing to help you out with whatever you need.”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t want charity.”

  “It wouldn’t be charity. You tell me how much you can afford, and we can work out a deal.”

  She eyes me skeptically. “I can’t go into business with your family. Remember what happened to my parents?”

  “I’d never do that to you. Never. I’m not my parents, and now, you know why they did what they did.”

  She stays quiet.

  “Not once have there been any complaints from our tenants here. Ask around. Not one.”

  “Why are you being so nice to me after what I did to you?”

  “I hate how everything went down between our families.” I hold up the last bite of the pound cake. “Plus, I’d like to have these regularly.”

  Regularly?

  Why would I say that?

  I haven’t committed to moving home.

  She’s the first person I’ve even mentioned something like that to.

  “Oh, so you’re bribing me?” She laughs.

  “Possibly.” I wink.

  “How about this?” She bites into her lip. “I’ll think about it.”

  “I’ll take it. You think, and I’ll be waiting.”

  She holds up a finger. “If you also think about moving home.”

  I slam my mouth shut.

  Whoa.

  Wasn’t expecting that.

  Chapter Seven

  MARIAH

  Can I do this?

  Start a business.

  Last night was a whirlwind. I stayed and chatted with Miles until the dinner ended. He wouldn’t say goodbye until I promised to consider his offer.

  This man, my past lover, is getting to me.

  At first, I tried denying it, but he’s digging himself in deeper. I nearly fell out of my chair when I couldn’t stop myself from saying I’d stay if he stayed. If we stay, we can give ourselves a second chance at love.

  Another perk of Blue Beech?

  Lava Java is open on Christmas Eve morning for two hours—giving us caffeine junkies our holiday fuel. As I’m grabbing my drink—caramel pumpkin spice—I spot Miles’s mom, Nelli, at a table reading a book. I pause, unsure of what to do, and am about to hurry out when she calls my name.

  Not wanting to be rude, I stop at her table.

  “Good morning,” I say with a smile.

  “Want to join me?” she asks, closing her book and resting it next to her.

  “Sure.” Why not? Let’s keep having these conversations. It’ll help you grow.

  This is the holiday of forgiveness and discovering where I belong. It’s also the moment I’d take a shot while watching a Hallmark movie.

  “I want to apologize,” Nelli says, “for what happened between our families. I know how much the pastry shop meant to your mother and you.” Her eyes fall as she taps her fingers against the table.

  I blow out a breath. “It’s okay. I forgive you. Now, I understand.”

  Her face brightens, and she stands, holding out her arms. I follow her lead as happiness surges through me.

  On this Christmas Eve, I’m shown what life in Blue Beech could be.

  “Baking day number two,” I say to my mother when I walk in on Christmas Eve—post-Nelli talk.

  Today, my mother does the cooking while I do the baking. She makes a large meal—turkey, noodles, potatoes, and all the fixings while I bake a pie and a cake.

  Just as we’re finishing up, I wipe my hand on a towel and glance at her. “Can I talk to you about something?”

  Concern etches along her face. “Of course, honey.”

  “I’m sure you saw Miles and me talking.” I’m surprised I haven’t been interrogated by her yet. Phoebe isn’t showing up until later because they spend the day at Spencer’s parents, but I’m sure she’ll be questioning me later.

  “I sure did,” she replied, holding back a smile.

  “He offered to rent me an open space in the building … where Pastry Puffs was.”

  She can’t contain her grin. “Really?” She jumps up and down. “What did you tell him?”

  “That I’d think about it.” I grab her hand in mine. “I want to make sure this is okay with you too. I know you lost your dream when the shop shut down, and I don’t want it to bring up any old memories.”

  “Oh, honey.” She squeezes my hand. “I’d love nothing more than for you to live your dream. I’ll be there with you every step of the way. Believe me, you’ll always have my support. I had my dream, my shop, and now it’s your turn.”

  It’s my turn.

  I wake up with a text from Miles.

  Miles: Merry Christmas from your future landlord.

  There’s no holding back my smile.

  I take a deep breath.

  A deep, life-changing breath.

  This is it.

  After thinking about it all night, I’ve made my decision.

  Me: Merry Christmas from your future tenant.

  There.

  It’s done.

  No going back now.

  Miles: You serious?

  Me: I’m serious.

  Miles: I guess that means it’s my turn.

  Me: It’s your turn.

  Miles: Looks like we’re Blue Beech’s newest residents.

  Chapter Eight

  MILES

  “So, how does this game go?”

  Mariah peeks over at me with a playful grin.

  It’s Christmas night. A few hours ago, she asked if I had any plans tonight. When I said I was free, she invited me over to Phoebe’s. Evie and Ethan are at their grandparents tonight, so Phoebe made spiked eggnog, and Mariah announced we’re playing the Hallmark Game.

  Whatever the hell that is.

  “When something cheesy happens, you drink,” Mariah replies.

  I raise a brow. “How do I know what’s cheesy?”

  “Oh, trust me, man,” Spencer comments. “Anytime you want to say, ‘Oh, come on’—that’s when you drink.”

  Mariah is curled up close to me, a fleece blanket wrapped around her body, and a mu
g in her hand. I nearly lost it when I walked in to find her and Phoebe wearing matching Christmas onesies.

  “Don’t ask,” Spencer said, clapping me on the back.

  Phoebe handed out our eggnog, and we made ourselves comfortable.

  Not once since coming home have I said, “This was a bad idea.” I don’t miss New York. There’s no better place than Blue Beech, and spending the holidays here has opened my eyes. My family is here. My friends—true authentic friends who aren’t only out for themselves—are here. Everything I’d ever need is in Blue Beech, and it’s time I do something about it.

  Growing old in New York by myself doesn’t sound like a good time, and if Mariah will be here, I’m damn sure going to try to make it work with her.

  Since ninety-percent of the movie is cheesy, and I’m driving home, I don’t drink every time. When the movie ends, and everyone is yawning, Mariah stands and walks me outside. The bitter wind smacks into us, and icicles are melting off the porch railing. A blanket of snow surrounds us, and I wrap my arms around a shivering Mariah.

  She doesn’t pull away, only relaxes into my hold. “Please text me and let me know you made it home safe.”

  I nod, staring at her underneath the porch light. “It’ll also give me a reason to tell you good night.” I wish I could do it in person, though.

  We could snuggle together on this cold night.

  Maybe in the future.

  If I have my way, this won’t be the last holiday I spend with Mariah.

  With a smile biting at her lips, she blushes. “I’d like that.”

  I swipe away a lock of hair that fell from her ponytail. “Thank you for inviting me.”

  “Thank you for coming.”

  “Did you pick that movie for a certain reason?” I raise a brow.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Two exes come back to their hometown and then fall back in love.”

  She laughs, covering her face. “Good point. That was all Phoebe. She’s really working hard for me to move home … and she thinks it’s only fair for us to try our relationship again. It should’ve never ended as it did.” Her face falls. “I’m sorry, Miles. I should’ve stuck it out, not giving a damn what my parents thought—”

  I cup the back of her neck and drag her face to mine. My lips hit hers, cutting off her words. Her soft lips on mine are almost too good to be true. I frame her cold cheeks in my palms, wishing I could grab her and take her home with me. Sliding her tongue into mine, we groan, our kiss deepening.

  God, I love this woman.

  With a deep breath, she pulls away.

  “You don’t need to apologize,” I say. “I’m only asking for one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Have dinner with me tomorrow. Give us another chance.”

  She nods. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Miles.”

  Tipping her chin up so she’s looking at me, I smile down at her. “I never stopped loving you, and I don’t know if I ever will.”

  Our lips meet again.

  Two weeks later, I buy out my previous partner so I’d no longer have dealings with him. He was making business deals behind my back and couldn’t be trusted. The asshole forced me to pay him half dollar, but it’s worth the peace.

  Next, I sold a percentage of my company to a New York brokerage firm. The firm will manage all listings and sales, and I’ll make a cut of the revenue. The only building I refused to part with was the one in Blue Beech.

  It’s all mine.

  Not for sale.

  My high-rise city apartment is on the market, and I put a purchase offer in on a home in my parents’ neighborhood. It was accepted, and we’re closing tomorrow.

  I’m home.

  For good.

  Chapter Nine

  MARIAH

  THREE MONTHS LATER

  “You ready for this?”

  I smile up at Miles. “I’m ready for this.”

  Grabbing the scissors, I grip them tight as my family stands to my side. A red ribbon is drawn up in front of me, waiting to be cut, ready to change my life.

  One cut and my business is open.

  Pastry Puffs will be back in the Blue Beech world.

  When I told my mother the name, she cried tears of joy. After going through boxes of old photos, I did my best to mimic what she’d done. The layout is similar, the paint colors similar, as are the tables and chairs. Her classic items plus my own make up the menu, and I already have dozens of orders to keep me busy for the next month.

  Life is good.

  I have everything I’ve ever wanted.

  A business. My family. The love of my life.

  I wish I could find the woman who’d thrown the shoe at me and thank her for getting me fired. That and Miles coming home was the push I needed. We attempted to take it slow, but I was moving into his new house with him a month later. It also helped get me out of Phoebe’s place. I love my family, but I need my quiet time too.

  Our community surrounds us as I cut the ribbon, and the doors are open.

  “You did it, baby,” Miles whispers, taking my hand.

  I loved Miles in high school, but that affection has grown since we moved back home. Every one of our failed relationships was fate bringing us back together.

  “Big day,” Miles says when we walk into the house. “You killed it, baby.”

  I peer back at him with a grin.

  Pastry Puffs had one hell of a grand opening and was slammed all day. Luckily, I had my mother by my side to help me through any issues. She, along with an employee and myself, baked all day yesterday to ensure we had enough sweets.

  “We killed it,” I correct, turning around. “You worked your butt off to help me.”

  Miles held my hand through every step of the way—meeting with the banks for a business loan, contacting contractors, and helping me with every license I needed. The man’s goal was to help me create my dream.

  “Isn’t that what boyfriends do?” he asks.

  “Looks like it’s time to say thank you.” With a devilish grin, I push him against the wall and kiss him hard. He pulls back, raining kisses along my neck, and grips my ass, pulling me into his erection.

  We release lust-filled groans, and in seconds, we’re tearing off the other’s clothes. We slept together a few days after he went to Phoebe’s Christmas night. Like with our relationship, we couldn’t have a slow physical buildup. I wanted his hands on me, him inside me, and he wanted the same. We craved that romance.

  His lips meet mine again as he carries me to the bedroom, gently depositing me on the bed and climbing over me.

  “I love you,” I moan when he slides into me.

  “I love you,” he groans into my ear before slowly thrusting.

  He makes love to me, slow and sensual, worshipping every inch of my body.

  When I’m with Miles, I’m on top of the world.

  We came back to each other when we needed it the most.

  We found love with each other again.

  All because we came home for Christmas.

  About the Author

  Charity Ferrell resides in Indianapolis, Indiana with her boyfriend and two fur babies. She loves writing about broken people finding love with a dash of humor and heartbreak. When she’s not writing, she’s on a Starbucks run, shopping online, or spending time with her family.

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  Chapter 1

  Sasha

  My headlights offered a narrow path of visibility through the falling snow. Fortunately, my little SUV navigated easily through the roughly six inches of snow that had already piled up on the driveway. Blessedly, I also knew this driveway was a straight shot to the house from the road.

  “Hello, Haven’s Bay,” I murmured to myself.

  My dog’s tail thumped against t
he seat, and her furry face appeared in the rearview mirror. “We’re almost there, Matilda.” Her tail thumped in reply.

  Although Boston, where I lived, was roughly four hours away from my old hometown, I’d only sporadically come back to the town in Maine where I grew up. The few visits I’d had over the years had been very brief.

  The stately house came into view. It stood tall in the snowy darkness with my headlights illuminating the front steps. There wasn’t a single light on to welcome me. It somehow made sense that my return to Haven’s Bay would be dark, snowy, and without anyone to welcome me.

  The sound of my tires was muffled as they rolled through the snow, creating a little path in my rearview mirror. I came to a quiet stop. I didn’t wait because it was cold, and I needed to get in and turn the heat on.

  I left my headlights on, let Matilda out, and hurried toward the front steps. Blessedly, I was wearing a pair of practical black leather boots. Even then, the snow was cold over the tops. Light and fluffy, it slid down into my boots, dampening my socks as I dashed quickly along the path lit by my headlights and up the stairs. I stumbled slightly, but I managed not to fall.

  My friend, Thea, had mailed me the house key, and I fished it out of my pocket, fumbling to find the lock on the heavy front door. In another moment, I finally got the key in and turned it. I pushed the door open, the sound of my footsteps echoing in the tiled entryway.

  I reached for the light switch to one side of the door. “Hello,” I murmured to myself as I pushed the switch up. Darkness reigned as nothing flickered on.

  “Oh, shit.” My muttered imprecation echoed in the dark foyer.

  This was one of those grand old colonial homes and belonged to my closest childhood friend and her siblings. They hadn’t lived here in years either, but they occasionally used it for vacations. Although it had been years since I’d been here, I recalled how it looked. I was standing inside a two-story foyer with a curved staircase along one side, and there was a hallway straight ahead. Along one side of the hall lay the kitchen and the dining room, while what was once a formal parlor room was on the other side.