Reese turned to face Andy. “Um, I think he likes you.”
Andy looked from her to Ike’s retreating figure and back. “I’d hate to see him not like me.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t be standing. He’d break your legs.” Reese managed to keep a straight face.
Andy swallowed, his Adam’s apple bouncing up and down.
“I’m teasing.” She punched him in the shoulder, and Andy let out a staccato laugh. It was cute to see this broad-shouldered, normally strutting-his-stuff guy nervous around her teddy-bear Dad.
“Let’s get this window done.” Andy wiped his hand down his face.
Reese spun in a slow circle. Piles of cardboard boxes with miniature Christmas scenes on the sides lay in random clusters. In front of the boxes were the houses, businesses, streetlights, pine trees, and so much more. There was a small walkway leading to the window; one wrong step would crush a tiny postman or chip the church steeple. She’d thought they were making progress, and the window was almost empty, but only because they’d hauled it all out here. “I can’t do this without chocolate.”
Andy rubbed his hands together. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
“Is that why you’re here, Andy Robert Edwards?” Reese cocked her hip out. “You’ve come for our chocolates?”
Andy held up his palms. “Hey, where the Gates are, there will chocolate be also.”
Reese tsked. “You’re a chocolate pirate.”
Andy shrugged. “Don’t judge. Not all of us grew up in a chocolate factory.”
“Well, at the factory, we work for our chocolate.”
Andy twisted his lips in concentration. “Like Oompa Loompas?”
Reese laughed. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
She made her way to their storage closet, where she retrieved the good, dark-chocolate-flavored cocoa mix and a couple of mugs. Humming an old Elvis Christmas tune, Reese mixed the cocoa and made her way back to the front of the store. She found her purse and retrieved the homemade mint marshmallows. They were light green and large enough that only one fit in a cup.
Andy was nowhere in sight. All the boxes were still there and the mess was just as overwhelming as it had been a few minutes before, only there wasn’t a handsome helper anywhere in sight. “Andy?” she called out.
“In here.” Andy’s head popped out from behind the window backdrop.
Reese followed him inside the window box and handed him a mug. She settled crisscross on the platform and leaned against the backdrop.
Mounds of fluffy white batting, used as a blanket of snow in the display, were all around. Soft snowflakes drifted down on the other side of the glass and the town Christmas tree was covered in a soft layer of snow. Industrial Christmas lights on the tree made the snow glow in a rainbow of colors, and most of the ornaments were buried. Street lights gave off a yellow gleam against the black, starless sky. They sipped their cocoa in silence for a few minutes, taking in the Norman Rockwell scene.
“What do you actually do? You know, when you’re not skiing?” Reese asked. “I know it’s computers, but I don’t think I’ve ever asked.”
“I’m a web designer.”
Reese’s hands stilled. “You mean you design websites for a living? I thought that was a hobby.” She touched Andy’s arm. “I’m sorry if that sounds rude. I don’t mean it that way.”
Andy leaned toward her. “I’m not offended, heiress,” he whispered.
Reese leaned over until their shoulders met, enjoying the intimate feeling of being in a small space, sort of snuggling with Andy, and holding a warm mug between her cold fingers. “Good. Then tell me about it.”
“It’s kind of boring.”
Reese tipped her head to the side. “Try me.”
Andy smiled, and Reese noticed the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Basically, I plan, create, and manage websites for my clients. It includes information architecture, the user interface, site structure, navigation, layout, colors, fonts, and imagery.”
“Wow. So basically, I should have paid you.”
Andy shook his head. “I’m not taking your money.”
Reese raised her eyebrows. “How about my dad’s money?”
“Are you kidding? No way.” Andy held up his hands and made a face like he’d seen the Ghost of Christmas Future.
“Hmmm. I’ll figure something out.” She would need to find a way to repay him for his time. The website was fantastic. And no wonder, if it was what Andy did for a living. “What do you like about web design?”
Andy contemplated this while he swirled the last third of his cocoa around in his cup. The green marshmallow was hanging in there, with tendrils of flavor whisking off the corners. “I like that it’s flexible. That I can ski and work at night if I want. What I really love is the creativity. Making something beautiful that meets the client’s goals and helps their company succeed. If the company has been struggling and my design helps them out, I feel really good about what I do.”
“Like a knight in shining pixels.” Reese batted her eyelashes.
Andy twisted his mug in his hands. “You know, when I was a kid, I actually believed you had a whole Wonka factory in your house. I thought that once I stepped through that side door, the inside would be a hundred and ten times bigger than what it looked like on the outside.”
“You did not.” Reese grinned.
“It didn’t help that you came to school smelling like chocolate.”
“I did?” Reese felt her cheeks grow warm. She had no idea.
Andy looked to the side. “You still do.”
“I do not.” Reese pressed her sleeve to her nose and took a sniff. It smelled like vanilla fabric softener.
“Not there.” Andy picked up her right hand, the one she immersed in chocolate at least three days a week, and pressed the inside of her wrist to his mouth, breathing in deeply as he did so. “It’s in your skin.”
Completely overwhelmed with the feelings coursing through her, Reese had a hard time breathing. Air came in short batches, leaving just as quickly.
Her left hand went slack and cocoa splashed on her jeans. “Oh, shoot.” Andy released her, and she brushed at the hot liquid, succeeding in smearing the stain but not much else. Smooth. Rolling her eyes, she joked, “Now you know why I smell like chocolate.”
Andy laughed.
Reese’s phone beeped with a text. Get to work. Luv Dad. Reese’s head snapped up in time to see her dad’s van drive past the window headed toward her parents’ house. That was worse than the get-a-room guy. “I’m going to run to the restroom and blot some of this out. I’ll be back in a minute. Are you done with your cocoa?”
“Unless you want to make the other leg match?” Andy held out the cup, a teasing glint in his eye.
“No thanks. This side will take a whole stain stick to get clean again.”
Reese hurried, cleaning her jeans as best she could without taking them off and immersing them in the sink. When she got back, Andy had most of the boxes filled and on the cart, and Dad was rolling up the batting. He must have driven home and back in record time. Reese didn’t know the minivan could move like that. He must have been nervous about leaving her with Andy.
Reese’s pulse spiked, wondering if Andy had mentioned the website, but the two of them seemed to work in silence. Not exactly uncomfortable silence, but it wasn’t what she’d call companionable, either. A truce of sorts? At least from her dad’s perspective. Maybe Mom had warned him to be on his good behavior.
“I’ll get the vacuum out. Emma will kill us if we leave glitter all over,” said Dad.
Reese nodded in agreement. Not to mention Cecilia would have a conniption fit. Her reaction to the window had been all the proof Reese needed to believe that the woman had it in for The Candy Counter. And since The Candy Counter was as much a part of the family as Clark or Grandma Ruth, that made it personal. Reese would do whatever was needed to protect her family, even if it meant sacrificing her heart.
“Tha
nks for all your help,” said Reese after they’d packed, hauled, and cleaned.
“It was good of you to come,” grumbled Dad.
Reese bit back a smile. Mom would be proud.
“Happy to help.” This time, when Andy offered his hand Dad shook it.
Andy stood there a moment, an invitation in his eyes. Reese offered him a completely pathetic wave and a weak smile. Withering inside at his kicked puppy look, she said, “Bye.”
Andy walked into the shadows to his car. Reese felt a sense of loss so deep it ached. She tried to console herself with the knowledge that her sacrifice would allow her family to continue on and allow her to openly contribute to The Candy Counter. What she couldn’t understand was the fact that she had those things now, and without Andy, she felt empty. Was it worth protecting something that felt like nothing without someone to share it with?
MONDAY MORNING, REESE WAS WRIST DEEP in semisweet chocolate when Andy walked through the house door carrying a large box. With Grandma still sick, Reese had taken over dipping duty.
“Morning, heiress. Joy.”
“Oh good.” Joy wiped her hands on her apron and took the box from Andy. “I was hoping these would get here in time.”
While Joy was busy opening the box, Andy winked at Reese. “What are you dipping today?”
“Mints.” Reese used her left middle finger to lightly flatten the top of the fondant ball before transferring it to her right hand to coat in chocolate.
Andy’s nose crinkled. “Not my favorite.” He snatched an almost-set chocolate from the top corner. “But if it’s all you have …”
Reese glowered. “Thief.”
“Hey, I worked for that chocolate. The box was heavy.”
Joy tossed the box, still full of gold foil leaves, on top of the fridge. “So heavy.”
Reese laughed at Andy’s wounded look. “I did carry it all the way from the car,” he said.
“Here, have another, then.” Reese dropped a fresh, melted candy in his hand.
Andy’s face lit up. “Awesome.” He got to work, licking his fingers and trying to get the chocolate in his mouth without making too big of a mess on his face. It was pretty much impossible, and Reese was having a great time watching him try.
Joy finished wrapping the last Santa and set it in a box. “Honey, I need you to deliver these to the Ladies’ League tonight. Your dad has the Chamber of Commerce meeting and I need to be here with Mom.”
Reese looked at the boxes of Santas, and then to their dwindling stock. The closet at Kenworth’s wasn’t much better. She’d barely have enough to fill the orders waiting in her purse. Because she was dipping today, Mom was headed in for the morning shift, and then Reese would take over in the afternoon and work until closing. She’d need to start some milk chocolate for the Santas and set a batch of molds before leaving this morning. Which meant she needed to dip these mints— and the ones waiting in the fridge— fast, or she wouldn’t have enough time to do any of it. Having gotten up at four-forty-five, she knew she was in for a long day.
“Sure,” she said halfheartedly. Covering for Grandma in dipping and her mom at the counter was starting to weigh on Reese.
“I can help,” offered Andy.
“That would be great.” Joy took off her apron. She pressed her fingers to her temple.
Reese immediately felt bad for whining about being tired, even if it had just been in her head. Her mom was under much more stress and pulling later hours, sometimes sleeping on a cot in Grandma’s room. The least Reese could do is deliver the Santas for the Hope Tree. Besides, it wasn’t her mom’s fault she had been running around with all the online orders. That was Reese’s doing, and she intended to see it through.
“Okay, I’ll meet you back here at nine-thirty?” Andy’s hands were covered in chocolate smears and he had a swipe across his cheek. Reese thought he looked adorable, and wondered what he’d do if she tried to kiss it away.
“Better make it ten. It’ll take that long to close up and get back here.”
“No,” Joy interjected. “Clark can close up. This is important.”
Reese hated to leave Clark on his own, but he was a big boy and could handle it. “Okay, then. I’ll see you at nine-thirty.”
Andy grabbed two more mints. “Prepayment for tonight.” He winked once more before spinning out of Reese’s reach as she tried to wipe chocolate on his face.
“Hey, that doesn’t grow on trees.” Mom gave her a look that said “no horsing around in here.”
Reese plopped back onto her stool. “Actually, it does.” She wiggled her sticky fingers in the air.
Her mom grinned. “Don’t you get cheeky now.”
Andy exited through the house, having learned to protect the chocolate from the December air.
Reese smiled as Joy folded her apron and went to wake up Clark. Funny how the thought of meeting Andy that evening made her long day seem much less long.
At nine-thirty on the dot, Reese pulled into her parents’ drive and around to the back of the house. She’d flitted back and forth between giddiness over spending more time alone with Andy and fear that she wouldn’t be able to keep up her resolve. Sacrificing her heart for the good of the company and her family sounded noble and worthy, but actually following through was proving to be much harder. Andy was just too, too wonderful, perfect, marvelous, fun, and any number of other adjectives that had Reese grinning like an elf on Christmas Eve throughout the day.
Since they weren’t dipping, they could use the outside door to load the Santas meant for the Hope Tree recipients into her car. She’d had to keep the car cool but not cold, a constant issue in the winter. The heater wanted to throw out a fiery blast worthy of Mount Vesuvius and the nighttime temperatures were cold enough to freeze your hair. She’d brought along a few of the no-sales to help her monitor things, and quickly popped a mint in her mouth. It was good, just the right proportion of chocolate and mint.
Reese left her car running and hurried to the door, her old house keys at the ready.
Andy came around the corner of the house, setting off the motion lights on the basketball hoop. “Hi.”
Reese bit her lip and smiled. “Hi. Thanks again. You always seem to be helping us move things. If you’re not careful, my mom will give you a regular job.”
Andy leaned close, and Reese caught a little of his masculine scent. “Can I tell you a secret?” he asked.
Reese’s blood pounded through her ears with thundering force, as if the smell of musk and cloves had sent it into chaos. Her mouth went dry and she had the sudden urge to moisten her lips. “Sure.” Her mind was suddenly back in the middle of Main Street, with Andy’s arms holding her close and his cheek brushing hers. The reasons for keeping her distance flew right out of her mind like two turtledoves.
“I’m hoping for more chocolate.”
Recovering only slightly from the heady memory and deep desire, Reese pressed her mitten to her chest. “You know you can buy them, don’t you?”
Andy gently tugged a lock of her hair. “They don’t taste as good. Stolen chocolate is much sweeter.”
Reese’s eyes darted to Andy’s lips and back up to his intense gaze. “Like kisses.” Embarrassed to have her thoughts burst out her mouth, she ducked her head. Apparently there was more of Grandma Ruth in her than Reese realized. The next thing that would come popping out would be Reese’s desire to dig her fingers into his curls and never let go.
Andy shed his glove and hooked a finger under Reese’s chin, tipping her face up to meet his. “Explain,” he said in a tone full of command and curiosity. His eyes were dark with intensity, as if what Reese had to say about kisses held the utmost importance in his life.
Reese took a breath, stalling, mentally scattering about for something to lighten the mood, to keep her from revealing the emotions flooding her body and soul, although she suspected that Andy could read them plain enough in her eyes.
The motion lights suddenly shut off, their glari
ng light leaving the two of them cocooned together in the deepest shadow. In the dark, with only the moon and stars to light her way through this moment of uncertain honesty, and with Andy standing close enough that she could feel his body heat, Reese felt foolishly brave. She spoke quickly, before she lost her nerve. “It’s in those charged moments, when kisses shouldn’t happen, but they do because two people are so drawn to one another that they forget about all the things keeping them apart and they give in to the desire and the heat and the … the …”
“Love?” whispered Andy.
Reese nodded slowly. “… and the love between them that the truly memorable kisses take place.”
“How do you know it’s one of those moments?” His eyes raked over her face, taking in every inch, drinking her in.
Reese’s voice became quiet. Her nerves from only a moment before suddenly calmed. “Your heart beats fast.”
“Check.” Andy put his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.
“You forget to breathe,” she rasped as she described what she felt.
“Check.” He leaned, his lips achingly near.
Reese placed her hands on his chest. “The world fades away and all you can see or feel or hear is the person you want to kiss.”
“Check.” Andy cupped her cheek, the warmth of his palm lighting her skin afire. Her chest rose and fell with every breath.
“And you just can’t help yourself.”
Andy’s lips found hers and Reese moaned with relief, her thirst for Andy finally quenched. Sliding her arms around his neck, she kissed him back, taking her time as Andy took his. Reese was sure there was somewhere they were supposed to go or something they were supposed to do, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what it was or why she should care.
Andy turned them so her back was against the door. He buried his fingers into the hair at the base of her neck, tipping her head to the side and kissing his way across her jaw. When he got to the soft skin near her neck, Reese felt her knees give out and clutched Andy close. She was all jelly candy and red hots and quickly losing any sense she may have once had. Andy kissed his way back to her mouth, where he lingered before pulling back.
Christmas Kisses: An Echo Ridge Anthology (Echo Ridge Romance Book 1) Page 7