Page 67
35
#Whatisathirdactbreakup?
“Kian, where are we going?” Joy asked for the second time since he’d stolen her away from the mall at closing.
“I told you. It’s a surprise.”
Joy had insisted they didn’t have time for a surprise, but his only response was that they had twelve hours before she had to be back to open the mall, and he was going to use every one of them to his advantage. He’d driven her through the Snowcap Ridge Holiday Light Tour, where they enjoyed the fun juxtaposition between the classy light displays and the more playful ones. If she were honest, she loved the blow-up Santas, the singing Frosty, and the Christmas lights dancing to the beat of a carol playing from a speaker.
That said, she knew the light show at Wintercrest Estate on Christmas Eve would remain her favorite. Not because it was the flashiest or the most curated, but because it helped the community cope with their grief by remembering the town's matriarch in a way that would mean the most to her.
After the light show, Kian treated her to a lovely surf-and-turf dinner at L’Ambroisie, this time with Freya’s blessing. She didn’t know where they were headed, but it was almost midnight, and she was tired. The only thing keeping her from complaining was watching the joy Kian took in surprising her. He’d planned the entire date to leave her with as little anxiety as possible about being away from the mall. That told her he cared about her and wanted her to enjoy a bit of the holidays.
Soon, he turned off the main highway and pulled down a paved path lined with Christmas lights on each side, lighting the way. At the end was a cluster of log cabins, each the size of a small cottage. There couldn’t be more than a bedroom and a bathroom inside, but they were all lit up for the holidays.
“Where are we?” she asked, completely unfamiliar with the surroundings.
“Lincoln Cottages,” Kian answered, pulling into a parking spot.
Joy smirked. “Is that a play on words?” Kian stared at her, confused, until she motioned toward the window. “They’re log cabins. Lincoln Logs.”
“Oh!” Kian said, laughing hysterically. “That’s funny. I didn’t even think of it when I booked the room.”
“Wait, we’re staying here tonight?”
“Yep,” he answered, shutting off the car and grabbing the bags from the backseat before walking around to open her door. “Marci packed you a bag.”
“But why?” she asked, climbing out of the SUV and walking with him to the cabin’s porch. Kian opened the door and motioned her in, then closed and locked it behind them.
“Because I wanted some alone time with you,” he whispered, coming up behind her. “Where you aren’t preoccupied with the mall or your phone. The only phone that works out here is the landline.”
Turning, she wound her arms around his shoulders. “You mean I can be completely unplugged for the next nine hours?”
“Unplugged and relaxed,” he promised, kissing her. “The minifridge is stocked with drinks and snacks to boot.”
Taking in the room, Joy couldn’t help but smile. “It’s so cute,” she said, eyeing the buffalo-plaid blanket draped over the loveseat. A television sat in the corner, but the room was too small for much more than a minifridge with a microwave above it.
“Allow me to show you my favorite part.”
Leading the way, he walked to a door and opened it, revealing a king-sized bed covered in red rose petals and a giant corner hot tub filled with steaming, bubbling water. The scene took her breath away.
“Kian,” she whispered. “This is so romantic.”
“I’m glad you think so, because Santa was hoping for a little romance with his Mrs. Claus tonight. Like soaking in that hot tub until we’re so tired we fall asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.”
Joy arched a brow at him. “That’s all you want to do? Soak in the tub and then fall asleep?”
Taking her shoulders, he held her gaze. “I have no expectations if that’s what you’re implying. I made the reservation and asked them to fill the tub for me, but had nothing to do with the rose petals.”
“You must have pull,” she said as she walked into the room.
“Lincoln Cottages might be a Van Adler Holding,” he said with a silly smile.
“So the bottle of bubbly was comped for the boss?” she asked, motioning toward the corner of the tub, where a bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket, flutes beside it.
“Okay, I did have something to do with that and the turtle cheesecake in the fridge.”
“Oh, cheesecake. Now that’s the way to this girl’s heart,” she said, kissing his cheek. “The only thing you’re not copping to is the rose petals then?”