Forbidden Christmas

CHAPTER 4: Arrival at Winter Pine Estate

Maya's Pov

The plane touched down in Denver with a bump that made my stomach flip. Or maybe that was just nerves. Hard to tell at this point.

I collected my bag from the carousel and headed to the rental car desk, going through the motions on autopilot. Sign here, insurance there, keys in hand. The whole time, my brain was screaming at me to turn around, get back on a plane, make up some emergency.

But I didn't. I got in the car and started driving.

The highway out of Denver was busy with holiday traffic, but as I got further into the mountains, the cars thinned out. Snow lined the roads, piled high on either side. Pine trees stretched up toward a sky so blue it almost hurt to look at.

It was beautiful. Postcard perfect. And I was too nervous to appreciate any of it.

My phone's GPS guided me off the main highway onto smaller roads, then onto a private drive that wound up through the trees. The gate was open, waiting for me. Sophie had texted the code earlier, but I didn't need it.

And then I saw it.

Winter Pine Estate. That's what Sophie called it, but it wasn't just an estate. It was massive. A log mansion that looked like it belonged in some luxury magazine, all wood and stone and huge windows that reflected the afternoon sun. Mountains rose up behind it, snow-capped and imposing.

This was where Derek lived. Alone, most of the year.

I parked next to a black SUV and a smaller sedan, hands shaking as I turned off the engine.

The front door burst open before I could even get out of the car.

"Maya!"

Sophie came running down the steps in fuzzy boots and an oversized sweater, her curls bouncing. She crashed into me with a hug that nearly knocked me over.

"You're here! You're actually here! I was starting to think you'd chicken out."

"Almost did," I admitted, hugging her back.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't. Come on, let me help with your bags. You're going to love this place. Dad really outdid himself with the Christmas decorations this year."

We grabbed my luggage and headed inside. The moment I stepped through the door, warmth enveloped me. Not just from the heating, but from the house itself. Wood beams stretched across high ceilings. A massive stone fireplace dominated one wall, already crackling with a fire. Garland wrapped around the staircase railing, twinkling with little white lights.

"This is incredible," I said, and meant it.

"Right? Dad designed it himself. Took like three years to build. Come on, I'll give you the tour."

Sophie dragged me from room to room, chattering the whole time. The kitchen was huge, all granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. The living room had furniture that looked expensive but comfortable, arranged around that fireplace. There was a game room with a pool table and a massive TV. A library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

"Hot tub's out back," Sophie said, pointing through the windows at a covered deck. "We're definitely using that later. And upstairs are all the bedrooms. You're in the blue room. It has the best view."

As we climbed the stairs, my eyes kept drifting to a door at the end of the hall. Closed, but light visible underneath.

"Is that your dad's room?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"Yep. He's probably in his workshop though. He's been spending like every spare minute out there working on some surprise Christmas thing. Won't tell me what it is." Sophie's face softened. "He's been so much happier lately. I think he's finally moving on from Mom, you know? It's nice to see."

Guilt twisted in my stomach. Here I was, thinking inappropriate thoughts about her father, while she was just happy he was healing.

Sophie pushed open a door. "This is for you."

The room was beautiful. A huge bed with a blue comforter, windows looking out at the mountains, its own bathroom. Everything was pristine and welcoming.

"It's perfect," I said.

"Good. Get settled and come down when you're ready. Jason and Melissa should be here soon. We're having dinner around seven."

After she left, I sat on the bed and took a breath. Jason. Sophie's boyfriend. And Melissa, her cousin. Right. Other people. This wasn't just me and Derek staring at each other across rooms.

I unpacked slowly, hanging up clothes and arranging toiletries. Stalling. Eventually, I couldn't avoid it anymore. I headed back downstairs.

Sophie was in the kitchen with a guy I assumed was Jason. Tall, gym-fit, wearing a polo shirt that probably cost more than my entire suitcase. He had that finance bro energy. Confident bordering on cocky.

"Maya! Finally." Sophie waved me over. "This is Jason."

"Hey." He gave me a quick handshake, already looking back at his phone. "Sophie talks about you all the time."

"Hopefully good things."

"Mostly complaints about your taste in Netflix shows." He grinned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

A woman walked in from the living room. Late twenties, perfectly styled hair, engagement ring catching the light.

"You must be Maya. I'm Melissa, Sophie's cousin." Her smile was warm but assessing. "I've heard so much about you."

We made small talk while Sophie pulled things out of the fridge for dinner. But I couldn't focus. My eyes kept drifting to the windows, to the door that must lead to Derek's workshop.

"Dad should be done soon," Sophie said, following my gaze. "He always loses track of time when he's building something. Wait till you see him, Maya. He's been hitting the gym hard lately. Looks great."

My pulse kicked up. I took a sip of the water Sophie had given me, hoping no one noticed my hands shaking.

"Should I go get him?" Jason asked.

"Nah, he'll come in when he's ready. He's probably covered in sawdust anyway."

The words were barely out of her mouth when the back door opened.

And there he was.

Derek Hayes. Forty-four years old. Sophie's father. The man I'd spent three years trying not to think about.

He was exactly as Sophie said. Covered in sawdust, wearing old jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was messier than I remembered, gray more visible at the temples. He had stubble on his jaw that definitely hadn't been there at graduation.

He looked... god, he looked good. Better than he had any right to look.

And then his eyes found mine.

Everything else disappeared. Sophie's voice faded. Jason and Melissa became background noise. The whole room narrowed down to just him, just those eyes locked on mine.

Time stretched. Seconds that felt like minutes.

His lips parted slightly, like he was going to say something. Then he seemed to remember where we were. Who we were.

"Maya." His voice was deeper than I remembered. Rougher. "It's good to see you."

He crossed the room, hand extended. Professional. Appropriate.

I took it, and electricity shot up my arm. His hand was warm, calloused from work, strong. He held on just a beat too long. Long enough that I knew he felt it too.

"Good to see you too," I managed. My voice sounded strange to my own ears.

"Dad! You're a mess." Sophie laughed. "Go shower. Dinner's in twenty."

"Yes, ma'am." Derek's eyes lingered on mine for one more second before he pulled away and headed for the stairs.

I watched him go, unable to help myself. The way he moved, confident and unhurried. Like he had all the time in the world.

"Earth to Maya?" Sophie waved a hand in front of my face. "You okay? You look a little dazed."

"Just tired from the flight," I lied. "Maybe I should freshen up too before dinner."

"Good idea. Your room's all set up, right?"

I nodded and escaped upstairs, heart pounding. I made it to my room and closed the door, leaning against it.

Two weeks. I could handle two weeks.

I went to the window, looking out at the mountains as the sun started to set, painting everything gold and pink.

And then I noticed something that made my breath catch.

My window looked directly across at another window. Larger, with curtains that were partially open.

Derek's room.

As I watched, the light flicked on. And there he was, standing at his window. Fresh from the shower based on the damp hair. He was wearing a t-shirt now, simpler than the flannel.

He looked up. Straight at my window. Straight at me.

Our eyes met through the glass. Twenty feet apart but it felt like nothing. Like the distance didn't matter at all.

He didn't look away. Neither did I.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, breaking the moment. I stepped back from the window, heart racing.

When I looked again, his curtains were closed.

But I could still feel his eyes on me, like a touch I couldn't shake.

Two weeks.

I was in so much trouble.