Tinsel (Lark Cove #4)(50)

Was that true? My mother had insisted that all of us be involved and busy. My extracurricular activities had always been on the artsy side. Language. Music. Dance.

That last one was really the only one that had stuck into adulthood.

What did that mean?

Before I had a chance to ask, the door to the bar opened again and three children rushed inside, followed by their parents.

Parents who were back from their trip to Paris.




“So where are your suitcases?” Thea asked.

I blushed as she handed me a glass of wine.

After they’d come to the bar this evening, it had been a whirlwind. The kids had been anxious to go home with their parents. Thea and Logan had been excited to be with the kids. Before I’d even had a chance to say a proper good-bye to Dakota, they’d swept me along with them.

He was at the bar, finishing the night alone.

I hadn’t even thought about my suitcases in all the commotion. They were still lying in the corner of his bedroom.

Dakota and I both knew today was my last day in Lark Cove, yet neither of us had thought to pack my things. We both knew I’d be in his bed tonight.

One last night.

“They’re at Dakota’s house.”

She choked on her sip of wine and coughed. “What?”

“I’ve been staying there.” Since I was planning on going back tonight, there was no use in denying it. And I wasn’t going to pretend Dakota and I hadn’t had a glorious affair.

Logan would have an opinion. I wasn’t sure how Thea was going to react. But right now, it didn’t matter. The kids were in bed. The bar was probably quiet, and Dakota was likely closing it down. They could lecture me later.

Right now, I just wanted to leave.

As if he knew what I was thinking, a truck rumbled up the driveway outside. I shot off my chair in the living room and rushed to a window, peering outside in the dark and seeing Dakota’s truck pull up.

“Get out of here.” Thea smiled, sighing as she sipped more wine.

“Have a good night.” I smiled back, hurrying out of the room. “Oh, and Thea?” I paused, turning back. “Thank you. I’m glad I trusted you.”

“Me too.”

With one last smile, I ran to the front door just as my brother was coming out of Charlie’s room down the hallway.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

I ignored him.

Thea appeared in the entryway, her wine in hand. “Do we need to take you to the airport tomorrow?”

“Yes, please.” I pulled on the coat of hers I’d been borrowing all week. “I’ll be back in the morning before eight.”

“What?” Logan crossed his arms over his chest. “Where are you going?”

“Have fun.” Thea winked at me as I kissed Logan’s cheek then opened the door.

“Sofia—”

I shut the door on him, knowing Thea would explain. Then I hurried to Dakota’s truck, going straight for the passenger side door and hopping up.

The second I was inside, Dakota’s long arms reached for me, taking my face and pulling my lips to his. He kissed me with abandon, his tongue diving into my mouth and retracing the same path he’d made a hundred times in our time together.

We were starved and reckless, lost in the hot and wet kiss that went on for what felt like hours.

Finally, he broke away but kept my cheeks in his hands. “I didn’t bring your suitcases.”

“I don’t want my suitcases.”

Not yet.

He kissed me again, slanting my face one way as he devoured me again. When I was breathless and aching for more, he drove us to his home.

Neither of us slept as we savored the last hours together, linked until the sun began to rise.

I didn’t cry as I packed my suitcases or after Dakota kissed me one last time in his truck. I didn’t cry as I hugged my family good-bye at the airport. I didn’t even cry as the jet lifted into the air, leaving Montana behind. I saved all of my tears for the moment I stepped inside my penthouse apartment in New York City, alone.

My holiday vacation was really over.

And the life I’d returned to wasn’t much of a life at all.





“Is there anything in particular you’d like for lunch today, Ms. Kendrick?”

“No, thank you, Carrie.” I set down the magazine on my lap and smiled at my personal chef as she stood outside the living room. “Whatever you’d like to make will be lovely.”

“Your trainer called me this morning and mentioned we needed to limit carbs for a few weeks. With the weather being so cold, I was thinking a variety of soups, if that would please you.”

I frowned. When I’d had my workout this morning, my trainer had been less than pleased when I’d stepped on the scale. Ten days in Montana of eating whatever I wanted had “softened” things.

When I’d gotten home two days ago, I’d contemplated asking Carrie to cook only healthy foods. Instead, I’d decided to wallow. So I’d given her an extra two days paid vacation and asked my doorman for recommendations for the best, greasiest takeout places in Manhattan.

“Miss?” Carrie cleared her throat. “The soups?”

“That’s fine.” I sighed. The sooner I got back into my regular diet, regular schedule, regular . . . life, the sooner I’d snap out of this somber mood. “Thank you.”