Page 38 of Valentine Nook (The Valentine Nook Chronicles #1)

Lando

“ H ave you seen this?”

Grabbing my coffee mug before it topples over, I peer at Alex, then at the piece of paper he’s slammed onto my desk, easing it out from under his hand.

It looks to be a land purchase order, forestry for sale. Fifteen hundred acres. One hundred million dollars.

My brow knits together.

He doesn’t need my authorization to spend anything under half a billion. I trust him, and he has a sixth sense that seems to have protected him from making any lamentable investments so far.

One hundred million wouldn’t usually have him so riled up that he looks like he might burst into flames at any moment.

“Can you fucking believe it?”

My eyes scan the words again. Have I missed something?

According to this report, the land is sound, borders the national forest in Colorado, and works on a fifteen-year cycle of forestation.

I mean, fifteen hundred acres seems a little small to me, but Alex is much closer to the international sustainability programs than I am, so maybe he has a more ambitious plan .

. . but I’m still going to need some help.

“Al, mate, use your words.”

His finger jabs at the paper. “That’s Haven’s place. Wylder Ranch.”

I read the words for a third time and a fourth. After the fifth, I look up at him and his expectant—albeit angry —expression. I’m guessing he wants me to be as outraged as he is, but I’m slow on the uptake this morning.

I should have stayed in bed. With Holiday.

And had coffee. But I’ve been neglecting my duties of late, working the bare minimum the past few weeks, and the work’s piled up.

I also want to take Thunder out before it rains this afternoon, so I reluctantly got out of bed before the alarm went off and started work.

“I don’t see where it says Wylder Ranch.”

He almost stabs a hole in the paper, trying to show me the address. “There. 4539 Talisker Summit Road.”

“That’s Haven’s place?”

He nods, mouth mashed together, glaring at it hard enough I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned to dust.

“How d’you know?”

“I went there, remember? Miles came to collect me in the morning. It’s a stunning place, incredible views of the valley?—”

He peters out into a beleaguered sigh and slumps down into the chair by my desk.

Of the five of us, I’m closest to Alex. Hendricks and Miles have each other, and the age gap with Clementine was too big for me to hang out with her all the time. Alex is the one I grieved with when our father died.

He’s the one I trusted to lead the international side of Burlington Estates when I decided I wanted to stay closer to home.

Like me, Alex works hard, takes his role seriously, and doesn’t concern himself with trivialities. Over the years, he’s had a couple of semi-serious relationships, but because he’s not restrained by the same expectations I am, they always ended without the eagerness to make it down the aisle.

Alex dragged me away from the mess of Caroline and Jeremy. He protected me during those early days when I wanted to drink through the humiliation. He’s always been there for me.

But looking at him now, it’s abundantly clear that my head’s been too stuck up my own arse to see how much Alex has been hurting too. And the hookup , as he keeps referring to it, was considerably more than that.

“I don’t understand. Did she send you this? Did she finally call you back? She wants you to buy it?”

“No, no, and no. It was in my weekly report of potential investments. It was top of the pile.”

“Oh.” I’m not entirely sure what to say.

“She worked so hard to keep it.”

“After her father died?”

He nods. “Yeah. I don’t know why she’s selling it now.”

Running a hand through my hair, I think about the many reasons I invented for how not to take on Burlington when our father died, and I had a mountain of advisers. Something I know Haven doesn’t.

“Maybe it was too much for her. You said she does most of it by herself. Maybe that’s why you haven’t been able to get ahold of her. Perhaps she sold the Christmas tree shop too.”

He chews on his lip, running his fingers through his thick stubble. “Do you think?”

“Yes.” I nod. And for the first time in a long time, I see a glimmer of hope in his eyes. I briefly wonder if that’s what I look like when I’m thinking about Holiday.

Alex picks up my mug, sips, screws his face up at what has to be tepid coffee at best, and puts it back down .

“What were you doing anyway?”

I shake my head. “Nothing important.”

There’s a pile of newspapers on the desk, the top one of which I was flicking through when Alex stormed in. He picks it up, letting out a low whistle, his eyebrows rising the more he reads.

“Someone’s been busy.”

I reach for the coffee Alex dismissed. “I’ve been living my life. It’s the paps who’ve been busy.”

“I see that.”

Splashed across several pages of the worst British tabloids are photos of Holiday and me—Claridge’s, the polo match, Paris, and walking into a restaurant in Berkeley Square when she joined me for my monthly trip to London last week. None from Valentine Nook, for which I’m grateful.

I don’t normally read tabloids, but the reason James put it on my desk in the first place is that this particular paper, with this particular article, decided to run a comparison between Caroline and Holiday.

It covers everything from their net worths to achievements to jobs to education and background.

But the majority of the article focuses on the canceled wedding and the alarmingly accurate reasons why, alongside a picture of Jeremy and Caroline.

In truth, I’m surprised it hasn’t been reported on until now, but as hard as I’m trying to find one, it appears I’m all out of fucks to give.

They made their proverbial bed. They have to lie in it. And according to Jeremy, Caroline’s bed is exactly where he wants to be.

And I’m no longer bound by shame and guilt. I’m not going to lie and say that I wasn’t wearing a small smile when I was declared the victor of this fucked-up comparison.

“This is a good picture of you.” Alex bends the page and shoves it toward me .

It’s a photo where Holiday and I are walking along the Seine, taken the evening after her first meeting.

I smile at the memory. “Yes, I like it too.”

“Uh-oh, they’ve made it official. ‘Lando Burlington, the eleventh Duke of Oxfordshire and England’s Most Eligible Bachelor, is off the market,’” he reads aloud, and I hear him chuckling behind the paper.

He can laugh all he wants. I wait for him to reach the bottom of the page, and when he does, he snorts loudly.

“ Ah . . . the crown has been passed to me again.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” He tosses the paper contemptuously onto the chair beside him and bows his head. He’s silent for a moment, crossing his legs, picking off a piece of thread from his jeans and dropping it on the floor. “What’s happening with you two?”

I knew the question was coming, I just wasn’t sure who it would come from. Since Holiday and I returned from Paris, every family member has acted with uncharacteristic indifference, even Miles. Which means all of them are chomping at the bit for information.

“What do you mean?”

“C’mon, Lando, you know what I mean. It’s great and all that you’re happy again. I love it. God knows something needed to pull you out of the funk. But that ”—he points at the paper he tossed—“is more than something. Miles said he’s seen you leave Bluebell every morning this week.”

I knew it. I knew they’ve all been gossiping about me like they have nothing better to do. I just wish I knew what the answer to Alex’s question was.

“I didn’t realize Miles ever woke up early enough to spy on his neighbors.”

It’s a pointless deflection because now that he’s begun, Alex is obviously going to take his role as family informant seriously. He can’t go back empty-handed, and he continues like I haven’t said a word.

“Lando, you’re together all the time. What are you going to do when she leaves? Is this just a prolonged friends-with-benefits arrangement? Or more?”

It’s a question I’ve been asking myself.

I know Holiday’s time in Valentine Nook is finite. I might not want to admit it, and I certainly don’t like it. But I know.

Her life and career are back in America, while mine is here. I’ve been trying to figure out a plan for us when the time came for her to leave, but there isn’t one that doesn’t involve either of us spending half our life on a plane.

I don’t want to be stealing moments between all the publicity and photo shoots, and months on a set wherever she happens to be in the world at that moment. And I doubt she does either.

Some mornings, I wake up next to her, blond hair fanned around the pillow watching her eyelashes flutter as she dreams, her lips parting with each breath, and think I’ll give it a few days until I see her again. No big deal.

Only to find myself back on the doorstep of Bluebell Cottage by lunchtime.

One thing’s for sure, I no longer have an aversion to going inside. In the space of a few weeks, we’ve fucked more in that house than I ever had before.

I can’t get enough of her.

In the end, I say, “I don’t know.”

“This isn’t just a crush anymore. You’re falling for her.”

Suddenly, I’m not so amused. I don’t need my brother projecting his shit onto me and snap out a reply, “It’s not the same as you and Haven.”

His brows sink low, and I see a concern I wish wasn’t there, especially when he says, “I know. It’s going to hurt so much worse. ”

“I’m fine .”

My tone is enough of a warning to him not to push any further. He nods and gets up from his chair. “I’m buying it, by the way.”

Because his eyes are staring at the pile of papers on my desk, for a moment I think he’s joking about the crown for his newly minted England’s Most Eligible Bachelor title.

Then I realize he isn’t.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“It is.”

“Al—”

“Look, even without Haven, that land is incredible, and if we have it, then it stops anyone else from taking it and slapping on another ten hotels that Aspen doesn’t need. We can keep it as it’s supposed to be. You said yourself you thought a ski lodge there would be good.”

“A ski lodge , not a tree farm.”

“I’ll find something to do with it, but I’m telling you now, there’s no way Haven wants her parents’ place sold for hotels. I know her.”

I shake my head. “Al, c’mon, be reasonable. You knew her for a week, and you haven’t heard from her since.”

His stare hardens, along with his jaw, reminding me why he’s known as the most stubborn of all of us.

“I know her. She didn’t just lose one parent, she lost both.

She’s not selling because she wants to. She was working all the hours to fund keeping it.

” He throws his hands up, sweeping them around my study.

“Take this place. We don’t have to worry about money, but that doesn’t stop us from working all hours to keep Dad’s legacy intact. ”

My eyes drop to the paper on the chair, open on the picture of Holiday and me.

We both know Alex buying the land has nothing to do with investment and everything to do with getting Haven’s attention. And I realize if the situation was reversed, and Holiday had ghosted me, I’d do anything to try to get her to speak to me again.

“Okay, buy it. If that will help you, if that’s what you think is best.”

“Thank you.” He stops with his hand on the door and leaves me with a parting shot. “You know, you deserve to be happy too, Lan. Try to let yourself.”

I ’m still thinking about Alex’s words when I make my way over to the yard later in the afternoon to ride Thunder. I haven’t called ahead. It’s been a while since I’ve tacked him up myself, and I like seeing him in the stable when I arrive, popping his head over the door to greet me.

I also haven’t checked in with Holiday. I want to prove to myself that I can go for a couple of hours and not behave like some pining teenager.

I reason that I don’t need to know if she’s enjoying her day because I already know she will be, as she’d packed up a basket of apples and pears to take over to Pierre.

But the universe has other plans for me.

For a second, I stare at the curve of her legs, imagining them wrapped around me later, just like they were this morning. Her jumper rides up as she raises on her tiptoes and brushes a piece of straw from Thunder’s forelock, exposing a sliver of tanned skin I’ve run my tongue along in recent days.

When he lowers his head to help her, she kisses the white blaze down the front and I’m suddenly consumed with jealousy.

Jealous of my horse.

She spins around from the sound of me laughing at what a fucking idiot I am, and her smile hits me so squarely in the chest my mind goes blank.

“Hey.”

I walk toward her, slowly like I’m savoring the time. “What are you doing here?”

“I had extra apples for Thunder and Sunday. When I’m done with Pierre, I always stop by on my way home.”

Of course she does.

“No wonder Thunder’s getting fat,” I tease.

She slaps me playfully in the chest. I grab her before she can step back, wrapping my arms around her and breathing in her scent of sugar and cinnamon.

“Don’t body-shame Thunder.”

I reply by taking her face in my hands.

My chat with Alex this morning has me in my head about her leaving, and I kiss her like it’s the last time I’ll see her.

I want to know how it feels, how I’ll feel to have her in my arms one last time.

I sense the moment Holiday realizes it’s not a quick kiss, her fists gripping my shirt while I hold her. My tongue sweeps around her mouth, tangling us together, melting into one another. My teeth graze her lips, and I swallow her moans, wanting more.

I will always want more.

We kiss long enough for Thunder to snort with impatience at being ignored. When I let go, her eyes take a second to focus while she catches her breath.

“What was that for?”

“No reason. Just because.” I glance at Thunder and clear my throat so she can’t see how bad I am at lying. “I’m going to take him out. Do you want to come on Sunday?”

“Sure, can you wait for me to change? I’ll be twenty minutes.”

I nod. “I’ll get them ready. ”

“Okay.” She leans up, plants one more kiss on me, then sprints to her car without another word.

The moment she’s out of sight, Thunder nudges me, rests his head on my neck, and whickers a deep sigh.

“Yes, buddy. I know.”

Alex is wrong. I’m not falling for her.

I’ve already fallen.