All He Wants For Christmas

by Elisabeth Naughton, Alexandra Ivy, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Laura Wright, Skye Jordan

  She’d been hiding in her office for the last hour, cutting accounts payable checks she didn’t need to do until the end of the month and balancing the accounts she’d just balanced last week, doing anything she could to stay out of the bar, because Tate was still down there. She knew it was childish, but she’d thought he’d leave as soon as the highway was clear. Instead, he’d stuck around, helped Kelly straighten up the stockroom after the police had come and gone, and was still hanging around even after the electric company had restored power and Ella had told him everything was fine and that he didn’t need to stay.

  What was with the man? Why was he still here? Didn’t he have a life to get back to? People who actually liked him? It wasn’t as if she’d even been nice to him while he was here. All they’d done in that cellar was bicker. And get all hot and heavy in the dark…

  Mortification heated her cheeks, and she quickly pushed to her feet, then snapped her payroll book closed and shoved it and her laptop in the lower desk drawer. She wasn’t going to think about that. It hadn’t meant anything. It had been a moment of weakness. They’d both been half-asleep. After two years, she didn’t even know what sex was anymore anyway.

  She locked the drawer, then drew a steadying breath and headed for the hallway. What she needed to be focused on was who had sabotaged her bar. Someone was clearly messing with her. She just didn’t want to believe it was one of the buyers she’d been stringing along, as Kelly thought. Both had been disappointed she’d put off making a final decision on the sale, but both had seemed to understand. With any luck, the sheriff would catch the juvenile delinquent who’d cut her power, and the mess would be over and done with by Christmas Day.

  She pulled her apartment door open and stepped out into the hall. With any luck, Tate was also already gone. She needed to be done with him too. By now he had to have gotten the hint that she didn’t want him around. Right?

  A whisper of disappointment rushed through her as she headed for the stairs and told herself his leaving was for the best. What did she think was going to happen? That they were going to fall madly in love again? That he was going to give up his groupies and celebrity friends for her? That would never happen.

  As she moved down the curved stairs, heading toward the sounds of laughter and music and glasses clinking, she told herself she didn’t want it to happen. They led two totally different lives. She wasn’t even interested anymore. Besides—she pushed the swinging door open and stepped into the bar—she didn’t want a man, or love. The only thing she wanted was—

  Tate…

  Her heart bumped against her ribs when she spotted him standing near a table of four, an apron tied around his waist, laughing and chatting with the people in front of him. Twinkle lights around the top of the bar highlighted his thick hair and the slope of his nose, the carved angle of his shoulders in the loose gray sweater he was wearing, and the muscles in his arms and big hands as he jotted something on a piece of paper.

  He looked so different from the tabloid photos she’d seen in the grocery store. She’d noticed last night but couldn’t help thinking of it now. His hair was shorter, still shaggy and sexy and brushing his nape, but not the wild, dark mop that had hung to his shoulders in those photos. His jaw was clean shaven, void of the soul patch he’d sported the last few years. And dressed in that ridiculous red apron, standing in the middle of her pub, taking orders, he didn’t look a thing like the rock god he was. Instead, he was simply an older, sexier version of the boy she remembered.

  “Yo, Kendrick!” someone called from across the bar.

  Tate looked up and waved.

  “When are we gonna get you up on stage?”

  Tate pointed at his apron, then held his hands out and shrugged. “Too busy tonight. Sorry.” He glanced back down at the table of four, nodded, smiled, then made another note on the pad of paper in his hand.

  And as Ella watched—her heart racing the whole time—she realized what he was doing. She just didn’t know why.

  In a daze, she crossed the room to where Kelly stood at the bar, mixing a trio of coffee drinks. “What is he doing? Did you give him that apron?”

  “I sure did.” Kelly set the coffee drinks on the end of the bar, made eye contact with a server behind Ella, and reached for a glass.

  “But we don’t need his help. I’m here now. I can wait tables.”

  Kelly huffed and scooped ice into a glass. “Good. We could use you.” She nodded at someone behind Ella again, then said, “Order up.”

  Bobby Fenton rushed over, all wide-eyed and frazzled as he bobbled his tray and reached for the coffee drinks Kelly had just made.

  “Don’t spill those,” Kelly said to him, flipping a bottle of vodka upside down and pouring a generous shot into her glass. “The boss lady won’t let you wait tables again if you do. And I know you want those tips.”

  Bobby shot Ella a frightened look, then quickly scurried off.

  Ella’s eyes widened. “Bobby’s waiting tables now too?”

  “Look around you, Ella.” Kelly replaced the vodka, reached for a tumbler of juice, and added that to her glass. “This place is packed. We need all the hands we can get.”

  Slowly, Ella turned and looked over the bar, only to realize Kelly was right. The place was way busier than normal, even during Christmas week. Not a single table was empty, and the lobby area was standing room only, with people spilling out onto the cold street, shivering in their coats as they waited for a table.

  Confusion wrinkled her brow. “All this because we were closed at lunch?”

  “As if,” Kelly huffed behind her. “They’re here for a glimpse of your boyfriend. And because word has spread how charming he is. Look at him.” Kelly nodded toward the restaurant. “That boy’s a money magnet, guaranteed. You should try to keep him around, Ella.”

  “My…” Slowly, Ella looked to her left, her gaze landing on Tate once more. He stood at another table, laughing and chatting with an elderly couple. She watched as he laid a hand on the Pastor Reynolds’s shoulder and squeezed. Pastor Reynolds laughed, then nodded toward his wife. Tate grinned, a wide, beautiful smile that lit up his whole face, while Harriet Reynolds batted her lashes up at him as if he were the messiah.

  Ella’s irritation slowly slid away and was replaced by another bump, bump, bump in her chest, the sound growing in her ears until it drowned out everything around her and made her focus only on the man with the beautiful smile, wearing a silly red apron no rock star would be caught dead in.

  He was still here. He hadn’t left. He didn’t have any logical reason to stay, but he was in her pub, serving her neighbors, helping with something that didn’t involve him.

  Almost as if he sensed her watching him, he turned his head and caught her gaze. And as his cool blue eyes held hers, a slow, warm, familiar smile curled his lips. Not the one he’d flashed the Reynoldses, but one she’d seen dozens of times before during the summer they’d spent together. One that was meant only for her.

  Her mouth grew dry. Her hands damp. She couldn’t seem to look away. Then Mrs. Reynolds touched his arm, and he glanced back down at the table, breaking the spell that had sucked Ella under. And with a gasp, Ella turned for the closest door she could find.

  “Ella,” Kelly called at her back. “Where are you going? I need you out here.”

  But Ella didn’t listen. She moved into the kitchen, didn’t even bother to look at Matt at the grill, bypassed the cellar, and didn’t stop until she pushed the back door open and stepped out into the alley behind the pub.

  “Oh my God,” she muttered, bending over to rest her hands on her knees so she could suck back air. “This is not happening.”

  But it was. She could feel it. Deep inside, that heart she’d closed off after Kyle’s accident was coming to life, chipping away at the ice she’d built as a barrier, making her feel something other than dead. Because of that man in her bar. The one who’d been her first love, her only true love, and the single person in the world w
ho had the power to make all her dreams come true.

  The only problem was, he also had the power to crush them. And that kind of rejection was something she didn’t think she was strong enough to endure. Not again. Which meant the person who’d sabotaged her bar was now the least of her worries. Because she had absolutely no idea what she was supposed to think or feel or do now. Not when her heart was finally beating again.

  Chapter 4

  “That’s the last of it,” Kelly said the following night, walking out of the kitchen and shrugging into her coat. “I had Matt stack the rest of the boxes in the hallway, so be careful if you go into the kitchen. I’ll deal with it all tomorrow.”

  “Will do.” Tate placed the last utensil on the table and grinned, already thinking through the remainder of the evening. Yuletide Spirits had closed at midnight, and after the patrons had all gone home, he’d helped Matt before moving on to his task at hand. Now, an hour later, he and Kelly were the only ones left. But hopefully that would soon change.

  “Do you need help with anything else?” she asked.

  Tate just hoped it all went as planned. “Nope. Think I’m good.”

  “You’re something, all right.” Kelly moved toward the front door and wrapped her scarf around her neck. A light snow was falling in the orange glow of the streetlights, and the road was quiet. “How are you going to get her to come down? She said she was turning in for the night.”

  He glanced toward the door that led to the upper floors. Ella had said good night twenty minutes ago, but he had a strong hunch she wasn’t asleep. Ever since their eyes had locked across the restaurant during the dinner rush yesterday, she’d been acting different. Not so defiant. Not nearly as irritated. A whole lot nervous. And she hadn’t once told him it was time for him to leave, even when she’d come down today and found him still sticking around, helping out with the pub.

  Maybe he was reading too much into her change of attitude, but last night, after he finally dropped into bed around two a.m. and heard her footsteps on the floor below him, he’d known she was having as much trouble sleeping near him as he was near her. He’d also known if he didn’t do something to take advantage of that soon, his chance to win her back would pass him right on by.

  A flutter of nerves moved through his belly as he glanced at Kelly and lifted his brows. “I have a plan.”

  Kelly grinned and pulled the door open. Cool air rushed into the pub as the bell above the door jingled. “I’m sure you do. Good luck, Kendrick. You’re gonna need it.”

  She headed out into the snow, then disappeared around the corner of the building. When she was gone, Tate took a deep breath, looked back down at the table he’d set, and hoped like hell Kelly was wrong.

  Food. Assuming Ella took the bait and came down, he wasn’t getting her to stay without food.

  Turning back toward the kitchen to check on the dinner he’d prepared, he stopped when he reached the bar, and flipped off the overhead lights. Twinkle lights ran around the top of the room, setting the mood. From the shelf beneath the bar, he reached for the new cell phone he’d managed to pick up yesterday, chose the playlist he’d put together earlier in the day, and turned the music on low.

  Ten minutes later, he walked back into the pub with two plates in his hands and drew up short when he saw Ella standing near the table, staring at it like it just might jump up and bite her. She was wearing flannel pajama bottoms, fuzzy pink-and-white-striped slippers, and a long-sleeved fitted white T-shirt that shouldn’t look sexy but made his blood pound harder.

  “What’s going on here?” She glanced his way with the cutest wrinkle between her brows. “I thought the bar was closed.”

  “It is.” He crossed to the table and set the covered plates at each setting. “You’re just in time.”

  “For what?”

  “Dinner.” He pulled a chair out for her and waited, thankful the music had worked. She’d always had a thing for country music. He didn’t get the big appeal, but then he’d grown up listening to—and playing—rock and roll.

  She looked from him to the table, then to the chair, with a wary expression. “It’s really la—”

  “Ella,” he said, drawing her attention to his face. “It’s just dinner. And I think it’s the least you can give me considering I’ve worked in your pub for free the last two days.”

  She pursed her lips but sat in the chair he held out. “I didn’t ask you to stay.”

  No, she hadn’t. She also hadn’t told him to go, which he was taking as a big step in the right direction.

  He scooted her chair in for her, then moved for the bar and came back with the bottle of wine he’d opened earlier. “If you want, I can send you a bill later.”

  She huffed and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as he poured the wine. The speakers in the ceiling changed to some slow Brad Paisley ballad about storms. “I’m fairly certain I couldn’t afford you. Is that wine from my bar?”

  “Nope. Nora Cassidy gave it to me as a welcome gift.”

  Nora, as Tate had learned earlier in the day, ran the coffee shop and bookstore in Holly. Which, lucky for him, included a selection of wines—even if the bottle did say Rudolph’s Red Pinot.

  Ella reached for her glass and took a hesitant sniff. “You really have to be careful with everything you get in this town. Just because it has a cute Christmas label doesn’t mean it’s any good.”

  He’d thought the same thing, which was why he’d opened the bottle and sampled the wine before she’d come down. Lucky for him, it wasn’t just good, it was great, coming from some winery out in Oregon where they grew pinot noir grapes exclusively and knew what they were doing.

  She took a small sip, then shrugged as she set her glass back down. “I guess it’s not that bad.”

  Tate grinned as he sat across from her and shook out his napkin. “I’m sure Nora will be thrilled to know you approve.”

  Ella rolled her eyes as he reached for the silver cover over her plate. “Trust me, Nora didn’t come down here for any reason but to check you out. Everyone in town is curious how the local Scrooge got a rock star to—”

  Her words cut off as she stared down at her plate, and her mouth fell open in surprise. Then a slow smile spread across her face, followed by the sweetest laugh Tate had ever heard.

  “Oh my God,” she said. “Where did you find Kraft macaroni and cheese? We don’t have that in the kitchen.”

  Tate’s grin widened as he took the cover off his plate and set both on the table beside them. “I had to drive over to Asheville this morning to find it. The grocery store in this town doesn’t carry normal food.”

  “That’s because the noodles aren’t shaped like snowmen or reindeer or elves.” She placed both hands on the table and shook her head as she stared at the mac and cheese molded into the shape of a heart. “I can’t believe you remember this.”

  She’d served it to him just like this that summer they’d spent together. She’d only been a teenager then, hadn’t known how to cook much of anything, but that meal had been the best one he’d ever had. Because she’d made it just for him. “I remember a lot of things, Ella.”

  Her smile faded as she glanced up. And when their eyes locked across the table, that same spark of heat he’d felt last night when she stared at him across the bar flared hot and bright.

  She swallowed hard, looked down, and quickly reached for her fork. “Well, then you probably remember that the noodles were overcooked. Which is the main reason I pay my chef well, so he’ll stick around. This pub would crash and burn if I had to cook.”

  She lifted a bite to her mouth and chewed, careful, he noticed, not to look at him. But the nervous expression crossing her smooth features made him relax, and in a rush, he knew he’d been right. There was still something simmering between them. She felt it as strongly as he did.

  “So,” she said as she moved the noodles around on her plate. “I thought you said you had a gig in Miami.”

  Tate swallowed a sip
of wine and set his glass down. “I do. But not until Christmas Day. I can catch a flight out of Asheville that morning.”

  Her fork stilled. “You’re staying until Christmas morning?”

  “I’m considering it. What do you think?”

  Nerves rushed over her features. “Tate. I—”

  He was pushing her. A little too fast. He didn’t want to give her any reason to run. He scooped up a bite. “So I met Gillian McKinley today.”

  Her mouth snapped closed.

  “Nice woman. Gave me a big hug.”

  Ella slowly set her fork on the table before wringing her hands together in her lap. “Look, Tate. I think you need to know that Gillian—”

  “I know who she is, Ella.”

  Surprise flickered in her dark eyes. “You do?”

  He nodded. “I also know what happened two years ago on Christmas Eve. I also know it wasn’t your fault. I’ve met a lot of people in this crazy town and not a single one of them blames you for it. You have to stop blaming yourself too.”

  Her eyes fell closed, and her shoulders dropped. “That’s easier said than done.”

  He hated that he couldn’t take her heartache away, that she had to live with it at all. If he hadn’t walked away from her nine years ago, she never would have been in that accident to start with. Of course, then she never would have met and fallen in love with her husband.

  A place in his chest tightened. “What was he like?”

  She exhaled a long breath. “Steady. Dependable. All he wanted to do was live in this town, run this bar, and raise a family.”

  She opened her eyes and stared at a spot on the tablecloth. “He was also persistent. I never planned to come to Holly. I was only driving through when I had car trouble and got stuck. At the time, I hadn’t wanted to call my mother because…well, we’d just had this big fight. Calling her would have been admitting she was right, which I just didn’t want to do, you know?”