So he was alone this Christmas, too. Except, well rumor had it that Tate Chandler was never really alone. Supposedly, he had a string of women a mile long. One name in particular kept coming up; Isabella. Again, rumor had it that the raven haired beauty had foolishly turned down Tate’s proposal of marriage and headed for New York City to be a model. Ida Mae and Lacey were definitely divided on whether that was a good thing or not. Lucas, our delivery guy and resident handy man made no comment.
I poured his coffee into a tall Styrofoam cup and snapped on a lid.
He returned to the counter, pulled out his wallet and pushed several dollar bills toward me.
“This one’s on me,” I said impulsively and put my hand out to stop him.
Our fingertips touched and, if the room had been dark you could have seen sparks. Both of us looked up in surprise. I gasped. He cocked one heavy eyebrow, grinned and slowly pulled his hand back, leaving the money where it lay.
“So, are you on duty all night?” I asked, anything to take my mind off of what had just happened and the sudden warmth spreading quickly upward. Soon my cheeks would be burning. God, I hated that I blushed so easily.
“Just till eleven,” he answered, plopped his big hat back on his head, saluted me with the coffee and turned to leave. At the last minute, he put his cup back on the counter and strode to the fireplace. He poked at the dwindling fire there, added more wood and adjusted the damper slightly.
“Thank you,” I said, making sure to stay behind the counter. “I always forget to check it until I get cold and it’s almost out.”
“Stay warm,” he said with a little smile and a wink.
Suddenly, the radio on his side crackled to life. He listened to the garbled message and, at once, he was all business. “Wreck out on 240,” he said.
And then he was gone, leaving a blast of cold wind and a swirl of snow in his wake.
“You forgot your coffee,” I said to the empty doorway.
Chapter Two
“Miss Lexi. Miss Lexi, I’m back.”
It was Lucas, my delivery driver. He was a bit older than Ida Mae and Lacey and had worked here at least as long as they had, making deliveries and helping with whatever else was needed. He was the one person who had not welcomed me with open arms nor was he happy with the changes I’d made. But during the past few weeks, he had been slowly coming around.
“Out here,” I called out, patting my pocket to make sure his envelope was in place.
He trooped through the door leading from the kitchen, carrying a huge fruit basket. “One of my deliveries was actually a pick up,” he said, grinning at me over the top of the red bow.
“How beautiful,” I said, taking the basket from him.. “I’ll have to keep track of all of our gifts so we can send out thank you cards after the holidays.”
Without even thinking about it, I thrust the basket back into his hands. “Why don’t you take this home and share it with your family,” I suggested. “Along with this.” I showed him the envelope and tucked it into the big pocket of his black and red checked jacket.
“Miss Lexi,” he growled.
His hands were full so he couldn’t try to make me take the envelope back like Ida Mae and Lacey had. And I wasn’t about to listen to his arguments.
“Now, it’s time for you to go home. And I don’t want to see you back here until the day after Christmas,” I said, trying to sound like I was giving him orders and failing miserably.
“Miss Lexi,” he said, softer now.
“Go home. Your work here is done.”
He shook his head. “Old man Sweet is probably spinning in his grave right now.”
“Let him spin. You go home to those grandbabies of yours.”
Sirens sounded far away in the distance and I remembered Tate had said there was an accident out on 240. I told Lucas this and he nodded. “The roads are getting really bad. You promise you won’t stay too late.”
“Regular hours, just like I promised I would,” I told him, urging him closer to the front door. “Who knows, there might be carolers or even real customers tonight,” I laughed.
“Merry Christmas, Miss Lexi,” he said, finally giving in and pushing the door open with one slightly stooped shoulder.
“Merry Christmas, Lucas,” I said, squeezing his upper arm.
Yes, he was finally accepting me and I felt like that was a big accomplishment.
When the door clicked closed, I swept up the snow off the tiled floor and stood there for a minute just listening to the silence. Outside was a winter wonderland. The dark gray sky was in stark contrasted to the thick blanket of snow that covered everything. And it was still coming down hard.
The main street was lined with an odd array of shops all locally owned. And even though they were all closed up tight for the holidays, they wore festive lights that twinkled merrily through the pouring snow. The Sweet Bakery was no different this year, dressed in all her brand new Christmas finery.
I was told that it used to be a different story.
We’d been busy early that morning with last minute purchases and customers picking up their orders for Christmas parties and dinners. Cupcakes seemed to be all the rage this year and Ida Mae swore she would never bake another one. We all knew that wasn’t true. She’d had too much fun inventing new flavors and recipes. And Lacey enjoyed covering them with elaborate decorations.
The pumpkin spice cupcakes with cream cheese frosting seemed to be the most popular and I wanted to make sure we remembered that next year. We’d gotten kind of a late start this year because it took me weeks to get them to try something new.
Also, that morning, before the snow storm grew worse, people young and old alike strolled along the street looking at the lights and admiring the lavishly decorated shop windows. They stopped in to buy coffee and sweet treats and wish us a Merry Christmas.
Now it was barely noon and the street was empty except for the occasional car moving very slowly through the ruts in the snow made by the sheriff’s big Jeep.
The wind picked up, rattling the plate glass windows of the bakery and I shivered and hugged myself. Thank goodness I didn’t have to go out in the snow storm until it was time to go home and, hopefully, by that time it would ease up.
Go home to an empty house. Suddenly, I realized just how alone I was and turned abruptly away from the door. Quick, hot tears blurred the lights on the Christmas tree in the corner and I blinked them away.
“Get busy, girl,” I said to myself. “You can do this.”
I decided that if I brought my laptop out front and worked at the counter, I could get caught up on some paperwork and be available for any customers that might wander in. That should keep me busy; keep my mind off what should have been the happiest day of my life.
My gaze landed on the Christmas tree again and I smiled remembering the day after Thanksgiving when I’d brought the tree in. Ida Mae, Lacey and Lucas were shocked. Evidently, Mr. Sweet never put up a tree or decorated in any way. Finally, they joined in the fun of bringing a little Christmas cheer to our bakery and Ida Mae and Lacey even baked some tiny gingerbread man ornaments to add to the festivities.
Our Christmas spirit seemed to spread up and down the street and we were busy with large orders from other shop keepers either for their own employees or as gifts to loyal customers. Evidently, receiving a Christmas gift purchased from The Sweet Bakery was a tradition that no one wanted to break.
“Oh, you guys are in for even more surprises,” I said to the empty room.
No one knew that my plans included expanding our little bakery into the internet business after the first of the year. That meant building a website as well as a host of other preparatory duties that I was learning from the ground up.
Ambitious? Or was I just running from the memories? Was I afraid to face reality of life without…?
Shaking off those dark thoughts, I went back through the kitchen to my little office to get my laptop. My high heeled boots made little clic
king sounds on the tiled floors; just about the only sound in the empty bakery.
Everything was in order, sparkling clean, old, well-kept appliances gleaming. It always smelled like sugar and spices to me and I supposed it always would. As I carried my laptop back through the kitchen, I stopped and unplugged the little radio Ida Mae kept back there.
“Some Christmas music is just what I need,” I said aloud.
That’s when I saw it.
I just stood there staring in disbelief. How could that have happened? We were always so careful. Our system for preventing mistakes like this worked perfectly.
This could mean the end of everything for Ida Mae, Lacey and Lucas and me. As successful as The Sweet Bakery had been over the years, this could spell disaster.
Chapter Three
Jingle bells announced the arrival of a customer tearing my attention away from the glaring mistake. Even as I hurried toward the front with my hands full, I was trying to figure out how I was going to fix this.
Out front, I discovered a young couple, bundled up for the weather. They were holding hands, love gleaming in their eyes and smiles. Those brilliant smiles turned on me when I moved behind the counter.
“Merry Christmas,” I said, pasting a smile on my face, the thought of what I’d just seen hovered at the back of my thoughts like a monster.
“Merry Christmas,” the young man said. “Are you the only shop open?”
“I believe so. What can I get for you?”
They picked out some Christmas tree shaped cookies from the glass case and added coffee to their order.
“Can we warm up by the fire?” the young man asked when he pulled out his wallet to pay for their snack.
“Of course. I’m not going to close any time soon,” I assured him.
After I rang up his order, he caught the young woman’s hand in his and led her to a table near the fireplace. Thanks to Tate it was blazing away and I made a mental note to thank him again for that little gesture of kindness.
Then, I busied myself plugging up the radio and looking for a station that played non-stop holiday music. I also tried not to notice the fact that the young man was kissing her gloved fingertips one by one. I tried to ignore her throaty little laugh when he whispered something and the way he looked at her with complete adoration while touching her face tenderly. It was almost as if they could not keep their hands off of each other. Almost as if they were the only two people on earth.
Last Christmas I’d been in her place.
Right now, I had a catastrophe on my hands not leaving me any time to dwell on the past…at least for now.
Finally, I found what I was looking for on the radio. I adjusted the volume and soft Christmas music filled the bakery. Then, I went back into the kitchen hoping I had just imagined what I’d seen.
Nope!
The order that should have been delivered that morning was still sitting right there on the warming table, carefully wrapped and ready to go. The name scrawled across the card on the front in black magic marker mocked me.
Hagenseker!
Mr. Hagenseker who owned the newspaper and lots of real estate was probably the grouchiest old man on planet earth. If there was a real life Ebenezer Scrooge, it was him. And if he had a bad experience with a local business, especially one he sensed might be the least bit vulnerable, he used his newspaper to bring them to their knees. In this small town that usually meant disaster for said company. I’d seen it happen twice during my short time here.
I’d seen it happen to a small gift shop right after taking over the bakery.
I’d seen it happen to a florist who failed to deliver the perfect bouquet to his wife on their anniversary.
I’d often worried that he might even target us since he’d wanted to buy the bakery and Mr. Sweet’s heirs refused to sell it to him. And now we had somehow forgotten to deliver the pumpkin pies and cookies he’d ordered for his huge Christmas Eve dinner.
While I was standing there staring at the order, trying to decide what to do, the bells tinkled over the door. Thinking the young couple had probably just left, I stuck my head around the corner to make sure.
The couple had indeed left but now three men were standing just inside the door looking like giants in their bulky winter clothing. The smell of diesel fuel assaulted me. Parked just outside were several huge vehicles, one with a blade on the front. I realized these men were working to keep the roads clear for holiday traffic traveling in and out of town.
“Coffee please,” said a young man closest to the counter. He held his gloved hands up in front of him in a prayer like gesture.
Everyone laughed.
“Fresh pot just made and it’s on the house,” I told them. “Our way of thanking you guys for doing what you do.”
I put out creamer and sugar and poured coffee into big ceramic mugs instead of Styrofoam cups. Just after the last one picked up his coffee and headed for the fireplace, four more men came in, saying that Sheriff Chandler had asked them to help out.
And from what I gathered, the people in this town would do anything for their beloved sheriff.
While pouring more coffee, I recognized one of the men as Lucas’s son, Martin.
“Thanks, Miss Lexi,” he said, giving me a big smile and a flirty little wink just like he always did.
Martin was newly divorced and on the prowl. And every available woman in town knew it.
While listening to their chatter as they huddled near the fire, I heard them all agree that what they were doing was pretty useless. The snow was coming down faster than they could plow it away and the roads were horrible. They talked a little about the accident out on 240 and I learned that it wasn’t serious but one older lady had been taken to the hospital in a nearby town for observation.
Even as I busied myself searching for that radio station again, the order that we’d missed felt like a stone weighing down my heart. I really had no choice but to try and deliver it myself and I wasn’t sure my little car would handle the snowy conditions.
Still, I had to try.
On the radio station that sounded a million miles away, Burl Ives sang about a Holly Jolly Christmas. The men were putting on their hats and gloves, getting ready to leave.
“More please.” The slender young man who had made them laugh when they came in groveled, doing his best Oliver Twist impersonation.
That brought more hearty laughter from the group.
It briefly crossed my mind to ask them to make the delivery for me but decided against it. That might give the old man even more fuel to use against us. I did, however, fix them to go cups and filled up a thermos or two before letting them get away.
“Come on, Tiny Tim,” one of the men joked.
“God bless us every one.” Someone else was getting in on the act and everyone was laughing by this time.
The men all thanked me as they trooped out into the snow.
“Be safe,” I called out while measuring out grounds and refilling a coffee pot.
Lagging behind the others, Martin came over to the counter and motioned for me to come closer.
As I stepped closer, his blue gaze traveled down my body and he nodded appreciatively. It dawned on me that the harder I tried to become invisible the less it worked.
“I want to thank you for sending Dad home. The kids are having a ball with him,” he all but whispered when we were face to face.
“You’re welcome,” I said. “It’s about time he spent Christmas with his family.”
He nodded. “If you need a ride home later, give me a call.” There was that wink again and he slid a napkin toward me. He had printed his phone number on it in neat, square letters.
“Thank you for the offer,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Before he could respond, the door opened and Tate’s presence simply filled up the space. He was definitely in sheriff mode and simply stood there, arms across his chest, feet apart, steely gaze leveled at Martin.
“I t
hought you were helping the road crew,” he said. The question was simple but the tone of his voice said it all. He wasn’t happy to find Martin lingering behind there inside the bakery.
“Just getting coffee with the others,” Martin said, backing away from the counter and holding up his thermos.
Electricity crackled between the two men and I had a feeling this wasn’t the first time they’d butted heads.
“The others are already back to work. I suggest you catch up with them.”
Without another word, Martin brushed past the sheriff and went out into the storm.
There was an uncomfortable silence. Someone was Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.
“You forgot your coffee,” I said, finally, anything to break the tension. “I have a fresh pot.”
“Thank you,” he said, his stance softening, his voice even softer.
“It’s probably none of my business but weren’t you a little rough on him?” I asked.
He took the steaming mug I offered and shook his head. “I’m paying these guys out of the city budget. I expect them to work not flirt…”
“He wasn’t flirting,” I protested.
Tate gazed at me over the top of the mug. “He flirts with everyone since his divorce. You might want to stay away from that one.”
He was one to talk.
“I’m a big girl, sheriff. I don’t need you to protect me.” I said, pulling myself up to my full height of exactly five feet. Even though I wore two inch heels, he was clearly over a foot taller than me. “Or advise me on my private life.”
Tate seemed a little surprised at my ruffled feathers. “My job is to protect and serve,” he said. “I take that seriously.”
I watched his broad back as he moved to the fireplace, punched up the blaze and added more wood. I’d forgotten about it again and was immediately sorry about my little outburst.
Star-Crossed Curves: BBW Erotic Romance Boxed Set Page 32