The Christmas Wedding Swap

by Allyson Charles

  He strode around the car, grumbling to himself. He knew he was her employee, damn it. And he gave her an honest day’s work for the pay. But the idea of taking money from Allison just didn’t sit right anymore. And now she was going to be housing him, making him feel even more like a charity case.

  She snapped on the headlights, throwing her house into bright illumination. It was a charming peach color, but the paint was faded and peeling a bit around the front door. Maybe that’s how he would repay her for her kindness. Slap a fresh coat of paint on the house. But then she’d probably bitch at him. Allison had her pride, too.

  A silent ten minutes later they pulled into the enormous parking lot in front of the megastore. Two teenage girls in jeans with rhinestones studding their back pockets strolled in front of Allison’s car, oblivious, heads down, fingers flying furiously over their phones.

  Allison tapped her horn with no effect. “Son of a…” Rolling down her window, she blared her horn, long and loud. “Hey, future road kill. Would you move it over a couple of feet?”

  “Oh my God,” one of the teens complained to her friend. But a basic understanding of physics must have penetrated their skulls in school as they slowly moved out of the way of two tons of metal.

  Allison whipped into a spot close to the end of the row and hopped out.

  Luke followed more reluctantly. “They can probably see the light from this store in space.”

  “Actually, they used special fixtures on the parking lot lamps that prevent a lot of light pollution. Now here.” She pulled out a shopping cart and pushed it to him. “Men’s wear is in that direction”—she pointed to the left and grabbed a basket—“and I’ll catch up with you.” She sauntered away, her red cowboy boots clicking on the white linoleum floor. He could just make out her hips swaying beneath her thick coat.

  Looking at her rear end and then toward the men’s section, he knew which direction he wanted to go. With a sigh, Luke turned to the clothes, one wheel on his cart not wanting to turn with him. With brute force and a curse, he made it to men’s but paused at the threshold. Garish boxer shorts and t-shirts greeted him, a motley assortment of red and green. “Sweet Jesus.” He fingered a pair of green boxers with a big red bow printed across the front. “What sweet hell is this?”

  Basic blue denim caught his eye, and he headed toward it, an island of sanity in this shopping madness. With a sigh of relief, he started digging through a stack of Levi’s, a familiar brand, and tossed a couple in his cart. After getting the basics, Luke paused by a rack of ugly purple cotton pants. He fingered the thin material, comparing it to the chef pants he had back home. Not a perfect match, but close enough. He threw a couple pairs in his cart.

  By the time he reached the shoe section, his cart was piled high. Allison found him there, her basket holding a single bottle of shampoo. “That’s all you’re getting?” he asked. Not waiting for an answer, he pointed at the shelf behind her. “Look. Clogs.”

  “And that’s a slipper,” she said, pointing next to it. “What’s your point?” She shifted her basket to her other hand. Luke took it and placed it in the child seat of his cart.

  “My point is that you should get some for your kitchen,” he said, adding his own pair to his pile. “Cooking in boots and jeans has started to get old.”

  She shrugged, and strolled next to him. “We’re a diner, not the Cordon Bleu. There’s no dress code, except for the waitress uniforms.” They pulled up to let a family cross in front of them. “You used to working in fancy kitchens?”

  “I’ve seen a few,” he said cautiously. “But the clothes are about comfort, not style.”

  She snorted. “Everything you do is about style.” Looking at the lines up front, she asked, “Are you done?”

  “Yeees.” He peered down an aisle and chewed his lip. “Is that a Keurig coffeemaker?”

  She grabbed his sleeve and tugged. “It won’t fit on your bike. Let’s go.”

  Slowing, he looked down the next row. “But…”

  “You don’t have room for that either.” She prodded him until he stood at the back of a checkout line. She twisted her loose curls into a knot at the back of her head. “You shop like a girl. You need to learn to get in and get out.”

  He leaned into her space. “Trust me, getting in and getting out just doesn’t get the job done. For most things, I like to take my time and do it right.”

  A flush swept up her cheeks. Placing a hand on his chest, she pushed him back. But her palm stayed on his shirt several seconds longer than it needed to. “I wasn’t asking about your dating philosophy.”

  Luke grinned. Flustered and embarrassed Allison was winning the competition in the cuteness round. “Anytime you want a real-world example…”

  She rolled her eyes. Turning her back on him, Allison rose to her toes and peered at other cash registers.

  “If we change lanes, that one will move even slower, I guarantee it.” Call it Hamilton’s Law of Shopping.

  She plopped back to her heels. “That’s not it. I’m looking to see if anyone has the Caty Cowgirl doll. The manager said all they had were on the shelves, but the shelf was empty. I was hoping to buy if off someone.”

  Luke didn’t want to pass judgment, but… “You collect dolls?”

  “It’s for my niece.” Allison shook her head and gave a derisive snort.

  “Oh.” Luke scratched his stomach. “How many nieces and nephews do you have?”

  “Two nieces.” Allison’s face softened. “They’re great. Four and six, and give my sister all the trouble she deserves.” Her eyes sparkled, and a smile of glee lit up her face.

  Luke’s breath stuttered in his chest.

  “My two sisters and I were hell on wheels, so we’re all due.” She reached for her basket.

  Luke was faster. He tossed her bottle into his cart, placed the basket on the floor, and started loading his items.

  “I can get my own stuff,” she said, reaching across him.

  He blocked her. “It’s shampoo. I’ll get it.” When she opened her mouth again, he added, “Shut up about it.”

  She grumbled, like Shep did when Luke stopped feeding him treats. Luke bit back a smile. He didn’t think Allison would appreciate the comparison. He finished tossing his purchases on the belt, and stretched. His limbs felt as light as whipped cream. It had been months since he’d felt so relaxed. Years maybe. His bike breaking down in Pineville might have been just the thing he needed. And the blonde next to him was a big part of the reason why.

  They made it through the long line and packed up her Camry. “Don’t suppose you’d let me drive?” he asked without much hope. His bike had been in the shop for days, and he relished the idea of taking control again.

  She slid behind the wheel and slammed her door. Okay then. Trotting around the car, he climbed in his side, sliding his seatbelt on as she punched out of the parking lot. “Christ.” He grabbed the door handle. “In a hurry?”

  “Sorry.” She eased back on the gas pedal. “It’s been a long day. I just want to get to bed.” Tossing a quick glance at him, she emphasized, “Alone.”

  Luke held his hands up. He knew when to push a woman and when to back off. When they pulled up in front of her house, he grabbed the bags and followed Allison inside. She flipped a switch and tossed her keys in a bowl on an entryway table.

  Rolling her head from side to side, she swept her hand in front of her, indicating the combined living room dining room on the left, and the open kitchen to the right. A staircase leading to the second floor split the downstairs space down the middle. “Welcome to my digs,” she said. “Mi casa es su casa, for the time being anyway.”

  She stumbled into the living room, pulled off her coat, and threw herself into a wide armchair. She tugged off a boot. A moan filled the air as she wiggled her stocking-clad toes. Luke dropped his bags by the foot of the stair
s and pulled a footstool over to her, sinking down. “Sore feet?” he asked, tugging at her other boot and sliding it over her heel.

  “Yeah. My boots are a half-size too small, but they were on sale. I couldn’t…hey—” She swatted at his hand when he started kneading her feet. “Don’t do that. I don’t need… Ohhh, that feels good.” She slumped back in her chair, a smile curling her lips.

  “I dated a masseuse a couple years ago. Learned a few tricks.” Thank you, Tina. She’d given him a great excuse to put his hands on Allison.

  “I feel like I should make a joke about that, but I can’t think right now.” When he gently dug into the spot between her arch and the ball of her foot, she whimpered. “If you don’t want to cook anymore, I will hire you to give massages at The Pantry. Double what you’re making.”

  Smirking, he drew up her other foot and skimmed his fingers over it. He wished it wasn’t covered in nylon. He wanted to feel her skin. But for now, he’d settle for the sweet sounds he was coaxing from her mouth. “It’s no wonder your feet hurt, wearing boots and Keds to work every day. Should have bought some clogs.”

  She opened one eye. “We’re not back to that again, are we?”

  “Not if you don’t want.” He smiled as she closed her eyes and settled back. Slowly moving his massage up her ankle to her leg, he kept track of her breathing, gauging her relaxation. At this rate, he’d have to carry her to bed. He spent some time on the calf muscle, kneading out any knots. He moved to the other leg, giving it equal attention. He glided his fingers down her calf to her foot, and he massaged her arch.

  Allison bowed her back and moaned. The air thickened. Her breathing sped up. Pulling her legs from his hands, Allison set them on the floor and scooted to the edge of her seat. “Thanks. I think that’s good.”

  He sat forward, widening his legs to fit around hers. One of her curls had come loose from the knot at her neck, and he wound it around his finger. Resting his hand on her shoulder, he rubbed his thumb up and down her silky neck. “You sure?”

  “Right now, I’m not sure of anything,” she said, eyes wide. She leaned closer, her breath brushing across his lips. “Oh, screw it.” Grabbing the back of his neck, she pulled him in, fusing his mouth to hers.

  Hot. Allison was so damn hot, taking what she wanted. He let her play, nibbling at his bottom lip and delivering sharp nips that made him growl. He forgot the bites the second she swept her tongue across the seam of his lips and pressed in. She sucked the tip of his tongue, and every muscle in his body hardened. She explored the recesses of his mouth, tickling the roof with her tongue, and he throbbed.

  He couldn’t take it anymore. Playtime was over. Raking his fingers through her hair, he gripped the back of Allison’s head and angled her mouth. His tongue tangled with hers, tasted every inch of her mouth. He was on sensory overload. She was velvet and silk, sharp edges and lush curves. And that was just her mouth.

  Wrapping an arm around her waist, he stood, hauling her flush with him. He groaned. God, her curves just didn’t stop. He slid his hand up her side, the fabric of her dress soft as down. He cupped a breast, hefted its weight, and almost melted on the spot.

  Allison pulled back, her soft pants brushing across his lips. A small wrinkle creased her forehead. “I’m sorry. That was stupid of me. I can’t do this.”

  His fingers tingled, aching to feel her body. “Why is it stupid? It’s obvious we both want each other. What’s wrong with that?”

  She laughed, sounding defeated. “Nothing. Under normal circumstances, nothing would be wrong with it. It’s just not something I want to do anymore. I’m looking for more than a roll in the hay with someone who will be gone in a month.” Her shoulders rounded. “And I can’t keep saying one last fling before I set my mind to settling down.”

  Luke shoved his hands in his pockets. They needed to be restrained to keep from reaching for her. He took deep breaths, trying to bring his body back from overdrive into neutral. He was hard as a brick, and she was determined to save herself for something serious—someone serious.

  The throbbing behind his right eye returned. He would never want to hurt a woman by promising more than he could offer. But damn if he wasn’t tempted.

  She laid a hand on his arm and squeezed. “Both my sisters are married to nice, dependable men, and I have two nieces. That’s what I want. No matter how much my hormones want to take you up to my bed and have their way with you, that’s not going to get me to my dream.”

  “Nice. Dependable.” He shoved his hands deeper in his pockets. “It doesn’t sound like you want a husband. It sounds like you want a pet dog.”

  She took a step back and ran her hands down her dress, smoothing out the creases. “There’s nothing wrong with dependable.”

  “It’s boring.”

  “Reliable.”

  Raising his hand, he picked up a lock of her hair and twisted it around his finger. “That’s just a synonym for dependable, not an argument.”

  “This isn’t something you can argue with me about. It’s my decision.” She took a step away before turning back. “I’ll show you to your room. And I really am sorry I threw myself at you like that, gave you the wrong message. It won’t happen again, hot shot,” she said with a wink, her good humor restored.

  Luke picked up his bags and trudged after her up the stairs. She bounced back as quickly as her curls did, and a tiny kernel of resentment blossomed in Luke’s gut. He didn’t want her to be heartbroken, but a token display of dejection wouldn’t go amiss. Luke was man enough to admit that the fact that he was never going to have Allison Stuart caused an ache behind his breastbone.

  And just for a moment, he thought about what it would take to be the kind of man Allison wanted.

  Chapter Seven

  Allison stared at the laptop in front of her, the sounds of the busy diner a low hum in the back of her mind. A picture of the foot-high Christmas tree she’d ordered as centerpieces for the tables for Sadie’s wedding filled the screen. The miniature shrubs were dotted with ornaments of silver, gold, and bronze and were dusted with fake snow. Allison thought they’d look beautiful on the white satin tablecloths, with a smattering of votive candles scattered around their bases. But would Sadie think them tacky?

  Rubbing her knuckles across her breastbone, Allison couldn’t help but worry that too much of her personality was seeping into Sadie’s wedding. She’d taken over much of the planning, so maybe it was unavoidable. And why was she wasting time worrying over decisions she’d already made?

  She flicked a glance through the window to the kitchen. The back of Luke’s tawny head was just visible from her spot at the counter. Damn her hormones, interfering with her brain. And damn Luke Hammer. Why couldn’t she have met him a year ago, when she would have happily accepted all he had to offer?

  His head disappeared from the window. Allison leaned off her seat, trying to see what he was up to. Her butt slipped off the plastic cushion, and she tumbled into the empty stool next to her. She jerked up and peeked around her restaurant.

  Jerome raised a cup of coffee and smirked. “Nice catch.”

  Judge Nichols, sitting across the booth from the cop, frowned. “Are you all right, dear?” He pulled a handkerchief from the inside pocket of his coat and wiped his nose. The man’s normally twinkling blue eyes were dull and red around the edges. His white hair stuck up in lank clumps.

  Allison frowned. “I’m fine. How are you doing?”

  “I think I’m coming down with something.”

  Something nasty. Allison stood and rounded the counter. “Bowl of chicken soup,” she hollered through the window into the kitchen. The door next to her swung open, and Allison jumped.

  Luke stepped through. “Awful jumpy today.” In his obnoxious purple pants and clogs, he should have looked like a clown. But the cotton hung low on his lean hips, and the faded black t-shirt he wore stretche
d tautly across his broad chest. Definite eye candy, just in a more colorful wrapper.

  He stopped next to her, and whispered, “If you hadn’t pulled the plug last night, you wouldn’t be having that problem.”

  Her skin tingled, and Allison tried to tell herself it was from irritation. No one had a right to be that cocky. She gave him a once over from the corner of her eye. Could he really deliver on his boasts?

  A bowl of steaming soup clattered onto the window counter in front of her. “Order’s up,” Delilah said. The girl glanced between Luke and Allison and smirked.

  Allison turned her back on her pains-in-the-ass kitchen staff and delivered the soup to the judge. She rubbed his shoulder. “Eat this. You’ll feel better in no time.” She winked across the table at Jerome. “If you take some cold medicine, too.”

  “Thanks, Allison.” He sighed. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint Eugenie tonight. We have tickets to see The Nutcracker.” Judge Nichols and Miss Eugenie Shaw had both lived in Pineville for well over fifty years, but this was the first confirmation Allison had ever heard of the two of them going out together.

  She tapped her thumb against her lips. Very interesting.

  “I hate to disappoint her.” Judge Nichols rubbed his round stomach. “Maybe I can find someone else to escort her. I don’t suppose…” He looked across at Jerome.

  Jerome coughed and took a large swig of coffee. “Sorry, on duty tonight.”

  Allison hightailed it before the judge could turn his sad eyes on her. “Got to get back to work. Feel better.”

  She slid into her seat and tapped her laptop to wake up the screen. A hand pushed her computer aside and replaced it with a plate of food. Luke spun it a quarter turn, wiped a stray bit of pepper from the edge of the plate with a white towel, and said, “Voilà.”

  She looked up at him. “This isn’t the turkey sandwich I ordered.” A spicy aroma reached up and grabbed her attention, dragging it back down to the turkey roulade plated before her.