The Christmas Wedding Swap

by Allyson Charles

  “That’s what you do for friends,” she said. Luke’s arm brushed her as he walked past, the scent of something sweet and spicy, like cocoa and cardamom, teasing her nose. She licked her bottom lip. “Besides, Colt was about to drag her to Vegas when he found another list of his duties taped to the visor of his truck. I had to step in to save the wedding.”

  He leaned against the counter, barely a foot of space between them. Taking a sip of coffee, he gazed at her over the rim of his mug. “Vegas sounds pretty good to me. Would that have been so bad?”

  “Not bad.” She cleared her throat. “Not if that’s what they both wanted. But there’s something to be said for a traditional ceremony and reception.”

  Luke bussed Sadie’s plate. Taking the towel from Allison’s hand, he wiped the crumbs from Sadie’s meal off the counter. “And you’re big on tradition.”

  She couldn’t help it. She laughed, and not the pretty, tinkling kind. This was a deep belly laugh, with a few snorts thrown in for good measure. Wiping her eyes, she stepped past Luke. “You would be the only one to think so. I just spent the morning having my family point out just how untraditional my choices are.” She asked over her shoulder, “Can you follow me? We have some housekeeping.”

  Opening the door to her office, she stepped over a box of artificial sweeteners and scooted around the small desk. Luke peered into the closet-sized space, his raised eyebrow telling her he wasn’t impressed.

  “I have a home office for most of the paperwork,” she muttered before bouncing down on the exercise ball she used as a chair. “Now”—she pulled a folder from the corner of the desk—“I have some questions on these forms you filled out.” She looked down at the W-9 form. “Your handwriting really stinks. I didn’t even know your last name was Hammer until Sadie introduced you to Colt. It looks like you wrote Hamish?” She squinted and turned her head. “Hamster?”

  “Yeah.” He blinked rapidly. “Sorry about that. I can try to clean it up for you.”

  When he moved forward, she waved him off. “I’ll do it.” She scribbled in the information. “You left the social security number blank and gave the address of your rent-a-cabin on Third.”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, Luke sent her an aw-shucks grin. The nerve endings in her breasts tingled. But Allison wouldn’t let herself succumb to his charm like all the other saps in The Pantry.

  “I’m moving around a lot right now,” he said. “And since this is just a temporary thing until you can find other help, I was hoping”—here his smile really lit up, and Allison knew she wasn’t going to like what he said next—“that we wouldn’t have to worry about the payroll forms. You know, just pay me cash, like you would a contractor.”

  “You mean under the table.” Rolling her hips on the ball to loosen her lower back, she stared at him unblinking.

  “Uh…yeah. That would be optimal.”

  “Let’s cut the bullshit. Do you owe child support? Have a tax lien against you?” Although she could have sympathy for back taxes, she wouldn’t tolerate a delinquent dad. She’d work through the night shorthanded rather than put up with that crap.

  “Jesus, no.” He placed his palms on her desk. The cuffs of his Henley were rolled, and the tendons of his forearms bulged. “What kind of man do you think I am?”

  She swallowed. Indignation vibrated off him. “I don’t know what kind of man you are. I’ve known you for all of a week.”

  “A week and a couple days.” One edge of Luke’s mouth curled up. “You forgot about our introduction on the sidewalk.”

  Allison’s face heated. She wished she could forget about that. “Just because you helped me pick up some Jordan almonds doesn’t mean you’re a saint.”

  “I may not be a saint, but if I had a kid, I would damn well take care of him.” His nostrils flared, bringing attention to the small bump on the bridge of his nose, the only imperfection in an otherwise flawless face. “Or her.”

  Allison sighed. “I believe you.” Rolling the ball back an inch, she rested her shoulders on the wall, the only distance she could gain. Being close to him, smelling his spicy scent, did funny things to her head. “And I’m desperate, as you well know.” She pointed at him with a pen. “For now, I’ll pay you cash at the end of each week. If you stay longer than a month, I’ll need to put you on the payroll.”

  “Fair enough.” The tiny muscles at the edges of his eyelids softened. Straightening, Luke crossed his arms over his chest, framing the impressive pecs molded by his soft Henley. “So I have a month in Pineville. How about a truce?”

  Allison considered. It hadn’t been Luke’s fault that she’d looked like an idiot at their first meeting. And a month was a long time to snipe with someone in the kitchen. Tentatively, she stretched her arm across the desk. “Truce.”

  His big hand enveloped hers. He brushed her thumb with his own. “Great. As the new man in town, I’m going to need some advice on what there is to do. Maybe a guided tour?”

  Allison pressed her lips into a firm line, ignoring the flutters in her belly. “That offer expired the first time you said no to it.”

  “I didn’t think I’d be in town long enough to enjoy all Pineville had to offer that day we met.” Luke pulled on her hand, slowly reeling her closer.

  Just because she was burying the hatchet didn’t mean she had to buy his bull. She tugged her hand free. “Cool your jets, hot shot. This is purely a business relationship.”

  “This is a small-town diner. Your stock isn’t going to drop if you have a bit of fun with your newest employee.” His eyes raked her body, taking in every curve.

  She swallowed and rose to her feet. Staying seated while he stared down at her looking like he wanted to…well, eat her up, wasn’t a strong authority position. Since this man now worked for her, he was off-limits. Her stomach quivered.

  No. No, making him the forbidden fruit. He might be sexy, but he was also an arrogant know-it-all. At this stage in her life, she wanted someone she could settle down with, not tear up the sheets. She thrust her shoulders back, realizing too late it could look like she was shoving her D cups in his face. Fighting the heat crawling up her neck, she said, “If you want a tour, my advice would be to visit the tourist bureau. They have information on the sights to see. The holidays are a busy season for me, more so with Sadie’s wedding. I don’t have time for anything else. Got it?”

  He nodded slowly, but Allison didn’t believe him. The tilt to his full lips was impish, as if she was a challenge he couldn’t wait to take on. The moment he spoke, she knew she was right. “I get it. You own a restaurant; you’re busy.” Sauntering to the door, he waited until he was just outside before hitting her with his parting shot.

  “But a month is a long time. You won’t always be busy. And I’ll be waiting.”

  Chapter Five

  Something was fishy. Allison couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but something definitely smelled like last week’s tuna. And it was coming from Luke.

  Okay, he didn’t actually smell bad. In fact, his cologne smelled so good it made Allison want to lick him from head to toe. But for someone who’d claimed only a few odd jobs in restaurants, he sure sautéed, grilled, and roasted his way through her kitchen like he’d been born there.

  When he’d caught Allison watching him flip an omelet into the air with the smallest flick of his wrist, he’d grabbed a spatula and turned the rest of the order like a layman. When Delilah had oohed and ahhed over his knife work as he created even, paper-thin slices of three pounds of carrots in twenty seconds, Luke had merely shrugged and slowed down his chopping.

  But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hide his skill. From the most tender steaks to ever leave Allison’s kitchen to the spice he substituted in one of her favorite recipes, which had turned it from mouthwatering to sublime. The man didn’t need a job as a fry cook; that was for sure. He should be working in a much fine
r kitchen.

  So what the hell was he doing in Pineville?

  Luke turned from the counter holding a large bowl of ground beef. He raised an eyebrow when he caught her looking at him. “What are you doing here?” He filled three baking dishes with the meatloaf mixture. “I thought Tuesdays were your day off?”

  “I do a lot of work from home on Tuesdays,” she conceded. “But I sometimes come in.”

  “Don’t trust me to run your kitchen yet?” Bending, he slid the pans into the oven, his chinos stretching tight across his backside. He glanced over his shoulder, and a devious smile slid across his face.

  Allison snapped her eyes up to stare at the large clock on the wall.

  He washed his hands at the sink and leaned against the counter as he dried them on a dishtowel. “Or perhaps you had another incentive to bring you in today? Someone you just couldn’t get enough of?”

  Allison’s cheeks heated. She cleared her throat. “You’re right. I don’t trust you with my kitchen.”

  Holding a hand to his heart, he staggered as though she’d struck a mortal blow. “You wound me. But Delilah and I have it covered, and Kurt’s coming in later.” He untied the small knot at his stomach and unwound his apron’s strings from around lean hips. “But I am about to break for a cup of coffee. Join me? Since you’ve tried my beans, I know you haven’t been able to go back to that swill you used to serve.”

  “Hey.” Allison put her hands on her hips. “My coffee was perfectly fine. And you’re spoiling my customers by bringing in your own supply because when you leave, I’m not ponying up for the specialty beans. They’re going back to my wholesale French Roast.”

  Luke shuddered.

  One of her waitresses slapped a ticket on the order wheel. “If we go back to the old coffee, I’m calling my union rep. Luke’s is so much better.”

  “You don’t have a union rep,” Allison said.

  The girl shrugged and winked at Luke. She shouted into the kitchen, “Hey, Delilah. Table five wants his burger cremated.”

  Allison watched the waitress return to the front of the house. Her staff was going to miss Luke when he left. In a very short time he’d become an integral part of the restaurant.

  Her cell phone played the opening bars to Elvis’s “Hound Dog,” and she fumbled in her back pocket, tugging it free. She saw her sister’s number and pursed her lips. “I’m going to have to take a rain check on that coffee.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” Luke said. He brushed past her and out the swinging door.

  The kitchen suddenly felt empty with just her and Delilah. She answered her phone.

  Camilla’s excited chatter blasted her eardrum. “I just talked to Richard. He can’t wait to meet you tonight. I went through his Facebook page, and I think we’re going to have to rethink your outfit for tonight.”

  “Cam, slow down. What are you going on about?” Allison listened with half an ear as she watched Luke through the opening that divided the kitchen from the dining room. He circled halfway around the counter, before making a U-turn.

  He strode back into the kitchen and reclaimed his apron. “A ten top just came in. My break’s over.”

  Delilah shot him a grateful look.

  Allison pressed the phone closer to her ear. “Wait, what was that?” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know that red blouse. I bought it, remember? But I’m not going to wear what you tell me to. I can dress myself.”

  Luke checked levels in the food bins by the grill. The fry bin was low, so he grabbed some potatoes and started chopping, his blade a blur.

  “All the pictures he posted of past girlfriends show women with a more classic style.” Cam paused. “Not to say your style isn’t fine, but—”

  Allison turned her back on the kitchen and leaned against the door to the walk-in refrigerator. She hunched her shoulders. “I don’t need you to tell me what to wear on a date,” Allison whispered.

  “Oh really.” Her sister’s voice dripped with scorn. “Let’s just go through the list, shall we?”

  Allison settled in as her sister listed every fashion faux pas she’d committed since birth, until she could take it no longer. “Hey, those shorts were hip in the nineties, and Billy Johnson seemed to like them just fine when he took me for ice cream. And,” she said, shaking a finger in a useless gesture for emphasis, “I was eight.”

  A hard body pressed into her back, warmth coating her from thigh to shoulder. “Excuse me,” Luke murmured. “I need to get into the fridge.”

  Allison hopped forward.

  Luke pulled open the door and dropped to a squat next to her vegetable supply. His thighs bunched as he stood with a crate of greens, his back muscles flexing beneath his cotton tee.

  Allison’s ears buzzed, drowning out Camilla’s lecture. “I’ve gotta go, Cam. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She pressed end over her sister’s objections. “Do you need any help looking for something? Or…anything?”

  Brilliant. For someone who prided herself on having a quick comeback to everyone, she sure spent a lot of time sounding like an idiot around Luke Hammer. And he wasn’t even that good-looking. She’d dated hotter guys. Maybe.

  “You going on a date tonight?” Pushing past her, he dropped the carton on the counter with a clatter. He pulled out vegetables without looking at her.

  “Yes.” Pushing the refrigerator door shut, she checked her watch. The date was less than seven hours away. A heavy weight sank in her stomach. She needed to psyche herself up before meeting Richard. He might be the man of her dreams. She rolled her eyes.

  “I thought you were too busy to date.” Luke pulled a knife from the block, and sliced green peppers into thin strips. “Are you serious about this guy?”

  “Haven’t met him yet. First date.” Allison washed her hands and grabbed a head of lettuce. “And I don’t have time to date. But this was a set up by my sister, and my family…”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Your family?”

  She tore the iceberg into tiny bits and dumped it in the salad bin. She grabbed some tomatoes. “Well, they want to see me settled. Happy.” She shrugged, and unloaded her frustrations onto the poor, defenseless beefsteak. “They can be very persuasive.” Emotionally manipulative pains in her ass more like. They meant well, however. “Cam, my sister, actually set up our little sister, Sam, with the man she married, so maybe I’ll get lucky. Maybe Richard and I will really hit it off.”

  Delilah snorted over the grill, and Allison glared at her. The girl put her head down and laid some cheese over a burger patty, whistling softly. From past conversations, Allison knew Delilah was a cynic when it came to love. And she’d derived a lot of entertainment from Allison’s past failed dates.

  Luke wiped his blade clean. He put it down and turned to face her, arms crossed. “Is that what you really want? Just to settle down and have babies?”

  His tone was as grating as nails on a chalkboard. She breathed out through her nose. “Do you have a problem with that?”

  He held up his hands. “Whatever makes people happy. I just think there’s a whole lot more to life.”

  She focused on the next tomato. “Which is why I also run my own business, doing something that I love. But you don’t have to act like having a family is some bourgeois failing or an illness you need to avoid. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to care for other people and being loved back.”

  “I didn’t say that.” He grimaced. “I just think it’s too early for you to settle.”

  “And I think that settling down isn’t settling. But I don’t think you’re the kind of man who’d understand that.”

  He straightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You can figure it oww!” Allison sucked the tip of her finger, tasting the metallic tinge of blood. “Damn it.”

  “Let me see.” Grabbing her hand, he held it up to h
is face. His thumb brushed the inside of her wrist.

  She tugged at her hand. “I can deal with it.”

  Ignoring her, he dragged her to the sink and stuck her finger under cold running water. “Stay here. I’ll get a Band-Aid.”

  Allison scowled. “I think you’re forgetting who gives the orders in this kitchen.” But the cool water felt good against the cut, and she left her finger under the water.

  He came back with a first-aid kit. Taking her finger, he dabbed at it with a paper towel. “It’s not bad. Just a minor scratch.”

  “I never said it was bad.” Allison plucked the Band-Aid from his hand and wrapped it around the tip of her finger. “Now, I’m going to go to my office and think of the questions I want to ask Richard tonight.”

  “Like an interview?” Luke threw the paper towel away and washed his hands. He took bleach wipes to her cutting board, cleaned down the station, and tossed the tomatoes in the trash.

  “If you like.” Allison packed up the first-aid kit. “I’m looking to fill a particular position. I should act accordingly.”

  “Sounds like a wicked good time,” he said dryly. “Best of luck with that.” He prowled up to her and pulled on a loose curl. It sprang back, bouncing into Allison’s cheek. “But just think. While you’re at your business meeting interviewing your potential husband, you could have been out, letting your hair down with me.”

  With a wink, he left her standing in the middle of her kitchen, open-mouthed.

  Damn it.

  A night with Luke did sound like a hell of a lot more fun.

  * * * *

  Luke’s boot hit an icy patch of sidewalk, and he threw out his arms for balance. Shaking his head, he continued to his cabin, his step a bit more cautious. He was from Chicago and was used to walking on slippery streets. He should know better. But Allison had grown up in Pineville, and she’d still turfed it in front of him the day they’d met.

  A grin tugged at his lips. Her embarrassment had been endearing, very unlike the sassy, self-confident woman he’d come to know.