A Very Merry Bromance (Bromance Book Club #5) (30)

She summoned her self-respect and stepped aside. “I’ll call you when I have a number for you.”

“You do that.”

She vowed not to look back at him as she strode up the sidewalk, climbed the porch steps, and walked into the house.





A Cold Winter’s Night





Simon Rye was late.

Not just a little late. A lot late. Like, almost a half hour late. And if there was anything that set Chelsea Vanderboek’s molars to grinding, it was tardiness.

Her entire life was a fine-tuned schedule. It had to be if she hoped to become the youngest ever junior partner at the Hollywood talent agency where she worked. From the moment she’d graduated from college, she’d made every minute count, and this meeting was no exception.

She had exactly two nights to finalize the sale of her family’s historic inn in northern Michigan before flying back to California in time for her agency’s annual Christmas party where, she hoped, she would get the promotion she’d been working toward.

Unfortunately, an infuriating local ordinance required approval by the Leland Township Historic Preservation Department for the sale of any property that had been held by the same family for more than one hundred years. Something to do with “safeguarding the heritage” of the area, according to the documents she’d been sent by her aunt’s probate attorney. It should have been just a formality, until Simon Rye got in the way.

Chelsea checked her watch. He was now thirty-six minutes late. Which was thirty-five minutes longer than she’d hoped to spend here. There was a reason she’d vowed to never return. Memories haunted every corner like Jacob Marley clanging his chains at Scrooge’s door. She’d instinctively hugged her arms around her torso the instant she walked in to ward off the chill and the sense of doom that clung to every square inch of the place.

She probably would have had to deal with the house eventually, but it shouldn’t have been this soon. Her aunt was supposed to have had two more decades of life in her—time to enjoy her golden years and to figure out what to do with the family estate before it ended up in Chelsea’s lap—but cancer in all its cruelty had stolen that. And now Chelsea was the sole member of the Vanderboek clan left to rid the world of this haunted, hated house. Fate had a sick sense of humor.

Chelsea stomped to the large bank of windows at the front of the house overlooking the serene, blue, icy waters of Lake Leelanau. The lake was barely visible now, though, hidden behind the veil of snowfall. The flurries that had followed her all the way from the tiny Traverse City airport to the Leelanau Peninsula had become heavy, fat flakes. She reached for the phone in her coat pocket to check the weather forecast but then swore as she remembered that she’d lost service somewhere outside Traverse City.

One more reason why she couldn’t wait to get back to Southern California.

If he ever bothered to show up.

Finally, the gun of an engine shifting into low gear outside brought her to the front door. She whipped it open just as a black truck roared up the steep incline and parked behind her rental car.

The man who emerged from behind the steering wheel was not what she’d expected. For starters, he was about forty years younger than anyone with the title of historic preservation director ought to be. He was also taller, leaner, and wider—more like one of the beefy locals who worked the docks over in Fishtown.

He wore a heavy, brown Carhartt coat and well-worn winter boots, but it was his easy smile that caught her attention as he strode up the snow-covered brick pathway to the front porch. But Chelsea wouldn’t be swayed by a dazzling smile. She worked in Hollywood, for God’s sake. Insincere grins were a dime a dozen.

“You’re late.”

Simon paused at the bottom of the porch steps. “I tried texting you.”

Chelsea grabbed her phone and held it up to show the screen. “Did it ever occur to you that I can’t get service out here?”

“Nope. Mine works just fine.” He stomped his boots on the ground to shake free the clumps of snow. “I suppose you missed the weather alert then too.”

“What weather alert?”

He gestured to the falling snow. “Big storm coming. We’re supposed to get more than a foot.”

“I thought that was supposed to hit south of here.”

He shrugged. “You know how Michigan weather is.”

“I do. So we’d better work fast, because I need to get this over with.”

She spun on her heel and went back into the house, leaving him at the bottom of the steps. His boots were muffled against the blanket of snow that already covered the stairs as he followed her inside.

He shut the door and faced her with that same smile. “How about we start over.” He extended his hand. “Simon Rye. I’m sorry I was late, and it is a pleasure to meet you.”

She stared at his hand for a split second and then sighed as she accepted the handshake. “Chelsea Vanderboek.”

He squeezed her hand longer than was necessary. “I was sorry to hear about your aunt. She was an amazing woman.”

An unexpected swell of emotion filled her chest. Chelsea pulled her hand away.

Simon sat down on a bench by the front door and untied his boots. Then he toed them off before he stood.

“That’s really not necessary,” Chelsea said, unnerved in a strange way by the sight of the man’s stocking feet.