Be My Christmas Treat : A BWWM Christmas Romance

by Nia Arthurs

  “If you need a date, Amina or Tierra can hook you up. They’re working through the holiday and there are plenty of lonely, single women desperate enough to lower their standards.”

  I place a hand on my chest. “You wound me, Kay.”

  “It’s a serious offer, Mave.”

  “I don’t need your assistance. My bed’s never empty.”

  “I’m not talking about a hook up with some airhead who’s barely legal.”

  “That was one time,” I whine. “And she was nineteen and totally legal.”

  “If you have to defend it, something’s wrong.”

  “Prude.”’

  “Shut up, Mave. Deep down, you never liked any of those girls. That’s why they don’t last. That’s why you always seem bored.”

  “I am not—”

  “You’ve got a lot more to give than you’re letting on, but it’ll take someone kind and intelligent to dig it out of you.”

  Clark’s face flashes through my mind. I shove it back in the corner. “You’re not roping me into that happily-ever-after shtick, Kay. Brendon’s enjoying that for the both of us.”

  A baby’s nonsensical banter travels through the phone lines.

  My grin gets bigger and threatens to split my face in half. “How’s my favorite niece doing?”

  “She’s good. Growing bigger every day.” The smile in Kayla’s voice is so clear it’s about to pop through the phone line.

  “I can’t wait to see her.”

  “What about me?” Brendon asks.

  “Your ugly mug can stay at home for all I care.”

  Brendon laughs. “Well, that’s what we called you about. Gran invited us to spend the holiday with her, so we’re heading up there next week. Kayla’s only coming early if you’re going to be in town.”

  “Should I take that as a compliment?”

  Kayla sucks in a breath. “Don’t let it swell your head. I just haven’t seen you in a while. I’m a little worried.”

  “I’m fine. You know me. I’m the playboy billionaire. I’m always having a good time.”

  “Yeah. But not around Christmas,” she says softly.

  I swallow, my nerves pulling tight. “I’ll be in the city.”

  “That’s good, Mave. I’m glad.”

  “We’re looking forward to seeing you,” Brendon adds. “I’m sure you’re busy with that playboy billionaire lifestyle so we’ll let you get back to it.”

  “Later, guys. And Brendon, kiss my little sweetheart for me.”

  “Will d—”

  “You can kiss the baby too,” I tease.

  “DeMarco!” Brendon growls.

  I laugh. “See you guys.”

  Kayla’s giggling hard. “Bye, Mave.”

  I hang up with them, the warmth from that small conversation still blazing in my chest.

  Brendon and I rarely saw each other growing up since he lived in another state and his dad and Gran weren’t on good terms, but he was the closest I had to a brother.

  I’m looking forward to seeing them, but I know I’m pushing it with the jokes—so Brendon punching me in the gut instead of hugging me when we meet is a real possibility.

  Still chuckling, I leave the dark office behind in search of coffee and Clark.

  She’s bending over to take something out of the oven.

  I try not to ogle her curves, but it’s tough. “Ehem.”

  She snaps the oven closed. “Mave.”

  I cast a look at the pastries cooling on the racks. At first, being surrounded by all these sweets made me nauseous, but I’m slowly getting used to the fragrances that curl through the air after Clark and Rosa have finished baking.

  Clark dots at her forehead with the back of her hand. A sheen of sweat glistens on her light brown skin.

  “It’s not too much work to handle alone, is it?” I ask.

  She takes off the oven mitts. “It’s okay. Rosa’s rarely taken a day off. She deserves one.”

  “I could be your assistant in the kitchen.”

  She arches an eyebrow at the offer. “No thanks.”

  “You doubting my skills?” I grin.

  Her eyes roll so hard I’m sure they’ll hit the top of her skull. “I haven’t forgotten the mess you made trying to sweep this kitchen on your first day. If you can’t even handle a broom, how am I supposed to expect you to handle baking?”

  “I just might surprise you.”

  Instead of a snappy comeback, a thoughtful look enters her eyes. Quietly, Clark murmurs, “Yeah, you just might.” With a deep breath, she jerks her chin down. “Alright. I could use an extra hand, but don’t do anything without checking it with me first. Got it?”

  “Yes, chef.”

  Her lips twitch and amusement dances in her brown eyes. Reaching for an apron, Clark tosses it my way. “Wear that. You don’t want to mess up your fancy shirt.”

  I snap the strings around my waist. It’s been over twenty years since I’ve donned an apron, but my fingers remember the steps like it was yesterday.

  “You go under and over. Just like that.”

  “Like that, mom?”

  “Yes. Now you pull the strings and make a bow. Isn’t that nice?”

  I stare into the distance, lost in my thoughts. Normally, memories of mom would accompany crushing pain and a tightness in my chest. It happens whenever I get a whiff of those Christmas cookies or hear her favorite carols in the radio.

  Strangely, the memory flashing through my head doesn’t feel heavy and dark.

  It’s warm.

  My gaze fastens on Clark who’s working quietly on the other side of the table.

  Is it because of her?

  She glances up at that moment. “What?”

  “Nothing.” I stride toward her, eager to be closer. “What do I do first?”

  She presses a hand to my chest and pushes me back. “Not so fast, Mr. Grinch. You can start by measuring flour.”

  “That’s a grievous misuse of my skills, Clark,” I say in a low voice.

  Her eyes flash on me. A hint of flirtation simmers beneath her words. “Take my orders or take a hike back to your office. Your choice.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I watch her from the corner of my eye as I get the measuring cups.

  There’s a slight smirk on her lips and a distinct lack of bite in her responses. I’ve never seen her so relaxed around me and it pleases me in a way that I’ve never experienced before.

  “You haven’t mentioned your bakery in a while.” The cups clatter against the metal surface of the table.

  She glances over her shoulder. “When have you heard me talking about the bakery?”

  I grab a towel and dry the insides of the measuring cups. “When you have an idea, you make a voice recording in your phone. I know all the details you don’t want to forget.” I smirk as I recall running into her while she was talking excitedly to an empty room. “Why don’t you just make a note?”

  “My hands are normally dirty and it’s faster to tap a few buttons than type on a keyboard or with a notebook and pen.” Her gaze lingers on me. “Have you been watching me, Mave?”

  “As manager, I observe everything in the bakery.”

  “Hm.”

  I face her. “You didn’t answer my question. I haven’t seen you taking notes in a while.”

  “That’s because I’ve been busy.”

  I frown. “Are the hours too much?”

  “No.”

  “Then what’s the problem? Doubling your hours here means you’ll get your license even faster.”

  “Sounds like you want me to go.”

  “Of course not.” I take the measuring cups to her. “If you leave, who’ll call me Mr. Grinch and talk smack about me behind my back?”

  She laughs softly.

  “Is there a serious reason you’re postponing?” I prod.

  Her bottom lip gets captured between her teeth. “Some life stuff happened. I’m just waiting to see how things shake out.”

&nbs
p; “Can I help?”

  “With what?”

  “If it’s money, I can give you a loan.”

  “You just… have that kind of cash?”

  “I’d know where to get it if I need it.”

  She gives me a funny look. “Most people have to be careful with money. They don’t grow on trees.” She opens the jar of flour and scoops out a cup. “Yet you offer cash like it’s nothing. Did your grandmother leave you an inheritance or something?”

  “No. Not at all.” I rake my fingers through my hair. Damn. Have I blown my cover?

  “If you want to help, just give me the seeds,” Clark says.

  “What?”

  Her lips twitch. “I’ll start growing my own money trees.”

  I smile in relief, glad that she’s not taking me too seriously.

  It’s hard to fit into this role. I’ve never worried about money. Not doing something I want to do because I can’t afford it is a concept as foreign as another language.

  “You can refill the flour jars from the sacks.” She points to the cupboard. “Everything you need is in there.”

  I nod and bring the flour sacks out.

  We work together in silence.

  After a beat, Clark looks intently at me. “Mave.”

  “Hm?” I dot at my face with the sleeve of my shirt. It’s hot in the kitchen.

  “What you did for Rosa was really cool.” She licks her lips. “I had no idea she was going through all that, but I could see how much your help meant to her so… thanks.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “No, it was everything.” She fidgets with her hands.

  I study her. “Tell me.”

  “You saw what was on that little girl’s Christmas wish, didn’t you?”

  Last night’s events flash in my mind.

  The Christmas tree. The note. Clark turning her face up for my kiss.

  It was enough to steal my breath, but not enough to erase what the snowflake wish said.

  Please bring my daddy back home.

  I straighten. Soften my voice. “We can’t help her.”

  “I know.” Her eyes dip to the ground. “That’s why it bothers me.” She lifts her gaze to mine and the vulnerability in their depths stirs me deeply.

  The moment turns poignant.

  I want to reach for her, but before I can, Clark swivels away from me. She points at the flour sack, avoiding my gaze. “No more talking. You should focus on work.”

  “You’re the one who started talking,” I grumble, my gaze locked on her.

  Clark’s pure heart shines right through her eyes. It makes her even more beautiful to me. Makes me want to wrap my arms around her and hug her tight.

  Since when have I ever been this obsessed with one woman?

  The wave of emotions in my chest grows stronger.

  Damn. Is my throat supposed to feel this tight when I look at her? Should my pulse charge so fast?

  I’m used to getting a rise out of my pants. Beautiful woman can do that to me easily. But what the hell is this swelling in my heart?

  I back away from Clark, uneasy as I realize I’m a little too close to something I promised myself I’d never entertain.

  “Mave.” She blinks. “You’re not done.”

  “I have an order to make in my office. I should get to that before the deadline.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes flicker with disappointment.

  What the hell does that expression mean? Does she want me to stay?

  No.

  Hell no.

  Clark’s inviting me into her space and letting me see past the sass and the snark.

  It’s getting too real now.

  I hurry down the hallway and slam the door to my office.

  This isn’t who I am. What the hell are these feelings?

  I need normalcy.

  I need my life back.

  Grabbing my phone, I call my friend Jarvis.

  “Mave!” His cheerful voice rings through the line. “Long time no see! You back in town?”

  “Yeah. Have been for a few weeks.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you holler, man? You hiding out or something?”

  “Or something,” I mumble. “But I’m free tonight.”

  “Tonight? Are you screwing with me, man? Why wait? I’ve got a party going at my old man’s ski resort.”

  I check my watch. “It’s the middle of the day, Jar.”

  “Exactly.” He laughs.

  I look at the piles of paperwork on the desk. It’s been ages since I’ve done anything remotely entertaining. Every night, I fall asleep working on an idea for the bakery.

  Even after putting in my all, we’re still so far from where we need to be with only a few weeks left on the deadline.

  “I don’t know…”

  “Come on, man. You’d really turn down a chance to have some fun?” Jar taunts. “You’ve gotten soft in your old age?”

  “Alright. You asked for it. I’m in, but you owe me one.”

  “You’re the one who’ll owe me when you see what I have planned.”

  “Looking forward to it.” I grin.

  “We’ve got from now until dawn to celebrate. Welcome home, you bastard.”

  I laugh hard and push away from my desk.

  Hell yeah.

  It’s good to be back.

  12

  Mave

  Strobe lights flash overhead, coating every face in green, red, and yellow beams. The noise blasting from the speakers cannot be categorized as music.

  Brain mush, maybe.

  Headache-inducing pulses, definitely.

  We’re in a private room in the VIP lounge. Glass windows reveal the revelry erupting a floor below us. A DJ with his hands in the air. Writhing bodies on the dancefloor. Alcohol flowing freely enough to loosen hearts and legs.

  I remember sneaking into clubs like this way before I was legal. Filling my cup to overflowing. Doing dangerous, stupid crap just to get a rise out of my friends. Out of my pants. Rebellion wrapped so thickly around, what was usually, a night that left me feeling hungover and empty.

  I take another sip of my beer to chase the thought.

  Jarvis tilts his head back and grips the two women cuddled against his side. A low groan slips from his lips. “Man, this is the life.”

  “Hm.” My gaze remains on the crowd downstairs.

  “Having a good time, Mave?”

  “Yeah.”

  My less-than-enthused response earns me a stink eye. “What’s up with you?” Jarvis frowns. “You were sulking all through the ski party too, sucking the life out of everything.” He gestures to the girl on his left arm. “Jealous?”

  “You wish.” I flip him off.

  “Lost your touch, DeMarco. Just come out and admit it.”

  I shake my head without bothering to respond. Both Jarvis and I know that’s not true. Every woman in that ski lodge was eyeing me today.

  And I can’t say I didn’t eye them right back.

  I’ve always appreciated a woman’s body.

  The curves. The tits. The dips. The hips.

  Damn.

  Yes.

  It’s my kryptonite.

  But, for some reason, I couldn’t get into the chase. Clark kept invading my mind. Every time a woman’s fingers brushed my arm. Every time I caught someone’s eye. Or saw a flirty smile. Or heard sultry laughter…

  I saw her.

  Clark.

  Light brown skin. Brown eyes. Plump lips. Her soft body in my arms. Her off-key singing. The way her long, honey-blonde hair flowed to her waist. The way she sassed me in the office when she found out about those damn decorations.

  I have never seen a woman get that pissed off over a few Santa hats and Christmas trees. She looked so stunning while trying to keep her temper in check when it was crystal clear she wanted to scream at me.

  Despite the fight in her eyes, Clark still kept her cool. She thought fast on her feet and, instead of erupting in anger, she mana
ged to negotiate with me. Pulled out a compromise. A promise.

  Consider putting Christmas cookies back on the menu.

  My lips inch up.

  That woman.

  If it was anyone but her, I would have shut down the notion immediately. But something about Clark tugs at me. Makes me want to raise myself to meet those ridiculously high standards of hers.

  Jarvis’s boisterous laughter drags me out of my thoughts. He shakes his head, flinging his long, blond hair all over. Blue eyes dance with mischief as he smirks.

  “What?”

  “Heard your granny’s dragging you around by the hair lately.”

  “It’s just a temporary assignment.” I close my eyes, a dull thud hammering in my head when I think about the dire straits of the bakery. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Sure, Mr. CEO.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Jarv.”

  “Yeah, I do.” His voice turns cajoling. “Soon, you’ll be too busy juggling portfolios and making business agreements to hang with us.”

  “That’s not going to happen.” I open my eyes.

  “So you’re going to give up the company?”

  “Gran’s staying on as CEO.”

  “No, she’s not.”

  I plunk my feet on the floor, my lips flattening. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your grandmother’s stepping down.”

  My eyebrows hike as my heartbeat picks up speed. “What?”

  “Didn’t you hear?” He arches an eyebrow. “The rumor mill is churning about who’s going to take over the company next month. Some are betting it’s you, but a lot of people are against that. Like a lot.” He laughs. “It’s kind of funny.”

  “One month? She’s stepping down in one month?”

  “That’s what I heard.” Jarvis removes his arms from the girls and leans toward me. “You really didn’t know, man?”

  I shoot to my feet, my mind whirring.

  “Mave!” Jarvis yells.

  Ignoring his shouts of ‘what’s wrong, man?’, I crash through the doors and stride past the beefy security guards keeping watch beyond the velvet rope.

  The club’s crazy music fills my head.

  My fingers tremble as I pull out my phone to dial Gran.

  “Damn it,” I curse.

  There’s no way I can hear a blasted thing in this place.