Out of the Blue Bouquet (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  “Nonsense.” She took the dish and went into the kitchen, pulling the pan of roasted Brussels sprouts and butternut squash out of the oven. “It makes perfect sense. Appearance is actually a huge part of dining.”

  Ian walked over to the counter where she had an apple pie and a pecan pie. He leaned down and sniffed the apple pie. She’d sliced Granny Smith apples and arranged them in a pattern to look like a rose in full bloom. She’d scalloped the crust so that it looked like the edge of a lace doily. Over the top of the fruit, she’d sprinkled cinnamon, a sauce made from brown sugar and butter, and then grated fresh nutmeg. “This looks incredible,” he remarked, smelling the rosette pie again. “Apple pie is my favorite.”

  “If I’d known that, I would have made two,” Calla said, and immediately felt her cheeks heat. Where did such a flirtatious comment come from?

  “The way to a man’s heart,” he teased as she packed the pies into the portable carrier, carefully not damaging the crust she had painstakingly designed.

  “That’s the rumor.” She scooped the vegetables into the casserole dish and pulled the box of plastic wrap out of the drawer. “I have an arsenal if that’s the case. You might consider yourself warned.”

  She moved around the kitchen with a grace and poise that looked different from her movements in the file room. Her movements there looked improvised. Here she looked contained, practiced, disciplined, and smooth. She moved with confidence and mastery. He felt like he was watching a professional ice skater or prima ballerina. The entire time she arranged the food, she continued talking about food though she captured his eyes and his heart more than his ears.

  “You know how in the Bible it talks about how Eve saw that the apple was pleasing to the eye? Isn’t that interesting? Even the first people on earth desired food that looked good. You know?”

  “I think you look good,” Ian said.

  “What?”

  Ian grinned. “I said I think you look good, Calla Vaughn. Beautiful, even.”

  Calla leaned against her counter, pausing in her practiced movements long enough to blush and grin. “Well, I’m not food, Mr. Jones.”

  Ian shook his head. “No, ma’am.” He smiled as he stared into her eyes. “You are not food. You are something else.”

  She broke eye contact first, turning back to care for her vegetables. Quietly, she said, “Thank you, Ian.”

  “Tell me something, Calla Vaughn.”

  “What would you like to know, Ian Jones?”

  “Why did you leave culinary school?”

  The question threw her off, and she momentarily lost her poise. She found her hands fumbling on the plastic wrap, tangling it and making it rip. With her back to him, she closed her eyes, breathed deeply through her nose, then carefully covered the casserole dish with a sheet of plastic, this time very smooth and perfect.

  Knowing she smiled an overly bright smile, but unable to do anything about it, she turned to him and said, “That’s a long story. Can we talk about it later, when I’m not a nervous wreck on my way to your family’s house?”

  He stared at her with serious eyes for several seconds before finally nodding. “Sure.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not trying to be nosy. I just want to get to know you better.”

  With an uncommon boldness, she stepped toward him. “Here’s something about me you don’t know, but that Sami and Penny and probably half a dozen other assistants know about me. I’ve had somewhat of a schoolgirl crush on you since I started working at Dixon Contracting. That’s three years. The reason I know Penny so well is that if it was for you, I did it first and foremost, and she started noticing. It feels really weird to say it out loud, especially to you, but it’s the truth. I didn’t tell you about the flowers the first night because you accepted my dinner invitation, and being able to cook for you was like a dream come true.”

  Suddenly very uncomfortable and self-conscious, she picked up the serving dish and started out of the kitchen. “I’m ready to go if you can grab that pie container.”

  “Hey,” he said, stopping her as she walked past him. When she turned to ask him what, he took the dish from her hands and set it on the counter next to him before he cupped her face with his hands. He looked into her eyes for several seconds before he slipped the glasses off of her face and lowered his lips to hers. The smell of his aftershave overwhelmed her as his soft, warm lips covered hers. She hesitated only a second before sliding her hand along his smooth cheek and stepping just a little closer, rising up on her toes to get that much nearer to him. It lasted just long enough to have her catching her breath, then he lifted his head and took half a step back.

  “Thanks for making apple pie.” His voice was deep, hoarse.

  Clearing her throat and trying to do the mental shift back to pie, she took her glasses from him and straightened her jacket. Somehow, she managed to get her brain to form a response, and then communicate with her mouth - the same mouth still tingling from the kiss. “Glad I didn’t like the look of the pumpkins at the market.”

  An hour later, Calla observed the dynamics of his family at the table. Ian’s grandmother, Annabelle, sat at the head of the table, with Ian to her left. Calla sat between him and Ian’s sister, Heidi. Ian’s uncle Dwayne sat at the foot of the table, with his wife Beth to his left. To finish off the circle, his other uncle Theodore and his wife Donna, who sat to Annabelle’s right. Over hors-d’oeuvres, Annabelle had explained to Calla that the children, all of Ian’s cousins, spent Thanksgiving with their in-laws every year so the entire family could be together for their annual Christmas mission trip to Haiti.

  Ian’s sister, an engineer who designed roadways for the city of Atlanta, had dark brown hair and hazel eyes that seemed to shift between green and brown. Calla really enjoyed talking to her.

  They chatted comfortably, like old friends. The anxiety Calla had felt about what awaited her at this dinner faded with every passing moment. Despite the luxurious surroundings in the old plantation mansion and the presence of a uniformed staff, every family member treated her in a manner that she found very welcoming and kind. In no time, she felt like they had enfolded her into the family.

  “You met Ian at work?” Heidi asked.

  “Yes. He had to push my car out of the way in the parking garage,” Calla said, laughing. “It hasn’t been hard to find the silver lining in that cloud.”

  Ian took a swallow of his water and leaned over Calla to speak to his sister. “It was really over a misdelivered flower arrangement. She sent flowers to her friend, Sami, to thank her for helping her with the car. But the florist delivered them to me since father insisted I be called Samuel instead of Ian. So, I guess there’s a silver lining to that as well.” Everyone laughed, and Ian took Calla’s hand under the table. He gave her palm a gentle and reassuring squeeze, either to convey support or just because he needed to have that momentary contact with her, she didn’t know. All she knew was that she liked it and missed his touch as soon as he let go of her hand.

  Ian sat next to Calla and watched her interact with his family, listening to stories he’d heard a dozen times in his lifetime. He laughed at the appropriate times, interjected when things got a little exaggerated, and generally enjoyed every single moment of this Thanksgiving more than he thought he’d ever enjoyed the holiday before.

  Calla was fun and had a good sense of humor, and a laugh that brought a smile to his lips. She charmed his uncles, made friends with his sister and his aunts, and he could tell she impressed his grandmother. He loved the fact that the dish that had held her roasted vegetables left the table empty, and that the beautiful works of art she created in her pies caused compliments to come from all parts of the table.

  He tried to remind himself that he had only officially met Calla less than a week ago and that these kinds of feelings didn’t just appear out of nowhere. The more his mind tried to tell his heart that, the less his heart listened or believed. Ian felt something special about his attraction for her. He could only
hope and pray that she felt the same way.

  As the maid served the pie, he put an arm around the back of her chair and leaned toward her. She finished saying something to Heidi and turned toward him, half a smile on her lips. It took considerable restraint to keep from kissing her then and there in front of God and everyone, but she must have read his mind because the smile slowly faded and she glanced at his lips.

  Her voice touched his ears like a gentle caress. “You know what I’m most thankful for today, Ian?”

  “What’s that, Calla?”

  “I’m so thankful you invited me today,” she said very softly, her words only for his ears, only for him.

  He reached out and took the hand she’d set in her lap. “And I am very thankful you agreed to come. You have certainly brightened up this table.”

  “Which pie, Mr. Samuel?” the maid at his elbow asked.

  He straightened and let go of Calla’s hand. “Apple, if you please, Velma. And bring another slice after everyone else is served. Thank you so much.” On top of the pie sat a perfectly formed football shaped quenelle of cinnamon ice cream. It had started to melt and dribbled down the sides of the pie in a perfect formation. His mouth watered at the sight of it as he picked up his fork. At the first bite, the tartness of apples warred with the sweetness of the caramel sauce, accentuated by the spices and his tongue could barely keep up with the amazing experience of the taste. He closed his eyes and slowly chewed, wanting to savor every bite.

  After dessert, Annabelle stood up and addressed the family. “This has been a delightful meal,” she said with a smile. “It is always a treasure to have all my children available to me. I am especially happy that Ian brought a guest because I have tremendously enjoyed getting to know her and I’m sure I’ve not had vegetables that well prepared in a very long time.” She looked at Ian with a mischievous smile. “We won’t tell her this is the first time you’ve ever brought a girl home to dinner.” Ian barked out a laugh and glanced at Calla, who looked surprised. He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin against his.

  “With sincere thankfulness,” his grandmother continued, “I pray for each of you daily, and hope that you have a beautiful holiday season. Now, regarding Haiti. If you are filling a container for me to ship ahead of our trip this year, I have a list at the front table in the hall for you to use as your guide for supplies. After the hurricanes this year, I know that one vital need is powdered milk.” She stepped away from the table and pushed her chair in. “You are now released from your family obligation,” she said with a smile, making the whole table laugh, “and I love you all.”

  As everyone got up from the table, Ian led Calla to his grandmother’s sitting room. They found Annabelle sitting next to Dwayne with a tablet in her lap, discussing packing lists. “I’ve already sent the money, ready to pay the customs officials’ extortion,” Dwayne said. “The containers should get there about a week before you do. I have a team of Haitian workers who are already contracted to unload the containers and truck them up the mountain.”

  “Perfect,” Annabelle said, “Are you sure you sent enough?”

  “With the hurricanes this year, we’re thinking the extortion won’t be so bad. But, yes, we’re sure we sent enough.”

  Ian glanced at Calla and saw the confusion on her face. “Usually, containers filled with things like building materials require a bribe to get through customs. The extortion is almost a standard operating procedure.” He looked back at his grandmother. “Calla and I are going to head out, grandma.”

  She stood in a fluid motion and hugged him. He breathed in the smell of roses that lingered even after she stepped over to Calla. “It was such a pleasure to meet you. I hope to see you again.”

  Calla smiled and didn’t hesitate to hug Annabelle. “It was wonderful. Thank you so much for inviting me.”

  “You are welcome any time.”

  As they stepped outside into the dusk, Ian took Calla’s hand and led her along the circular driveway. “You certainly made an impression,” he said quietly, stopping at his car to open the passenger’s door for her.

  When he settled into the driver’s seat, she looked over at him and surprised him by asking, “If you’ve never brought a girl home, how do you know that’s not how they would treat any female guest of yours?”

  He could see her grin in the dim light and grinned back. “Despite orphanages and mission’s trips, there’s still a very superior air about my family. I can assure you that if you had not passed muster, so to speak, you would have very much realized it.”

  After a moment of silence, she said, “I’m just glad they liked my food.”

  Surprised, he asked, “What do you mean? Of course, they liked your food.”

  He saw her slight shrug. “I’m afraid that’s part of the creative brain. I’m riddled with insecurities about my food. Every time. I wonder why I even cook until someone eats something and they love it so much. Then I get filled with creative energy and can’t wait until I get to cook again.”

  “That sounds absolutely exhausting.”

  She laughed. “Why do you think I’m tired all the time?”

  He found that he rather liked her brain. They enjoyed comfortable conversation all the way back to her apartment. When he walked to the door, he leaned down and brushed his lips against her cheek. “Let me know when you’re feeling up to making another apple pie,” he teased.

  Despite his intentional teasing tone, she said, “How about Sunday? After church?”

  Knowing he had the whole weekend free, he nodded. “I can do that.”

  “Perfect.” She unlocked her door then turned back to face him. “I very much look forward to it.” After staring up at him with eyes that looked very nearly black in the dim corridor light, she softly said, “Goodnight, Ian.”

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. Then he opened his eyes, turned, and purposefully put one foot in front of the other all the way down the corridor to his car.

  Calla sat in Ian’s desk chair and pulled her legs up underneath her. She’d worn a long skirt today so she could wear long underwear underneath it. The temperature had chilled this week before Christmas, and the morning walk to the train station in thirty-three degrees made her thankful for warm boots and foresight. She blew on the surface of the hot cup of coffee in her hand and watched her breath create ripples in the dark liquid.

  Ian perched on the chair in front of his drafting table, his eyes narrowing as he looked at a set of plans and spoke to the contractor on the phone. She enjoyed watching him when he worked, admired the intensity of his concentration. She didn’t feel a need to interject, to remind him of her presence, to try to get his attention. No, she just wanted to watch him, watch the expressions cross his face, watch his brain work through whatever problem the person on the other end of the line had presented to him.

  He hung up the phone and made several notations on a notepad in front of him before looking at her. His face gradually softened as his eyes focused on her. “Sorry about that.”

  “No reason to be sorry,” she claimed, straightening her legs and sitting properly in the chair. “Your work day starts way earlier than mine.”

  “Yeah, I have to get to it, really.”

  “I understand.” She held up the coffee cup. “I’m taking this with me.”

  “Please do.” His phone chirped with a text, and she stood, grabbing her coat and her bag. He had the phone to his ear when she started to walk by him, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her to him for a very quiet, brief kiss. When she pulled away, he winked at her, then his eyes grew serious again, and he started talking on the phone.

  As she slipped out of his office and closed the door behind her, she paused at Penny’s desk. “Any big plans for Christmas?” Penny asked, cutting her eyes to Ian’s door then back at Calla with a mischievous grin.

  Calla smiled and settled into the chair next to Penny’s desk. She spoke in a
quiet tone, not wanting to have any of the other assistants or interns in the cubicle area overhear. “Yesterday, he told me that his cousin couldn’t go to Haiti this year. So, he asked if I wanted to go since the plane ticket was already bought.”

  “Haiti is hardly a romantic getaway,” Penny said. “You should push for Cancun or something.”

  Calla cheeks flooded with color. “It’s not intended to be a romantic getaway. It’s supposed to be a mission trip.”

  “Nevertheless.” Her phone sounded a tone, and immediately Calla heard Ian’s voice coming through the speaker. “Penny, I need you.”

  “Yes, sir.” As Penny stood, she leaned down toward Calla and whispered, “Seriously, he could take you anywhere.”

  Calla understood that she and Penny had a different moral compass, especially when it came to men and relationships…and relationship boundaries. Instead of arguing purity over temptation, she just smiled and said, “Penny, anywhere on earth would feel romantic with him. Have a great day.”

  A few minutes later, she sat at Sami’s desk. Sami gave her a half grin. “Haiti, huh?”

  “It’s an annual Christmas tradition.” She thought of the news footage she’d seen of the island country when she’d transcribed a news report. “It was pretty much destroyed when that big hurricane hit it in September.”

  “I know. I remember.” She took a sip of her tea. “Seems kind of soon to be asking you out on a trip out of the country, though.”

  “One month.” Calla sat back and held her mug with both hands. She couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t spend time with Ian on a daily basis. She smiled and thought back to the very first time she opened her apartment door to him. “Only one month? How is that possible?”

  “Works that way sometimes,” Sami said. She blinked, and Calla could see the gold glitter of her eyeshadow - the same gold that matched the ornaments painted with glittery fabric paint on her dark green dress. She’d obviously worn it for the evening’s annual Dixon Contracting Christmas party. “You’ve never been more relaxed, though, honestly. I think it’s great.” Calla glanced at her watch as Sami fielded a call. She had another five minutes before she had to head down to the file room. When Sami hung up, she asked, “Have you told Ian about your stepmom?”