Wild Holiday Nights: Holiday RushPlaying GamesAll Night Long

by Samantha Hunter

  “He only wanted to make sure you were okay,” Gideon offered.

  “I’m fine. I don’t have time for this nonsense right now.”

  “It’s nonsense that Nathan was concerned about you being attacked and robbed? Especially when he had to find out about it through the police sheets? You never even called home.”

  Calla glared. “I spoke with my mother just a week or so ago.”

  “But you never told her what happened.”

  “Why? To worry them for no reason? I’m fine. And Nathan should keep his nose out of my business. You, too.” She pointed the spatula at him with a few sharp jabs that punctuated her words. “I can take care of myself, in spite of what my family thinks. For goodness’ sake, I’m an adult. I don’t need my brothers sending their friends to check up on me.” Over the top of the spatula she leveled him a look. “You did your duty. Go home.”

  With that, she went to the large sink in the corner of the room and turned on the hot water, scrubbing the spatula and then drying her hands, putting on new gloves.

  When she stretched to reach something on an upper shelf, Gideon was distracted by how the chef’s coat lifted and hinted at her curves underneath. Eight years had turned Calla from a girl into a woman, and he wasn’t immune to that fact.

  “Have they caught him?”

  “I have no idea.”

  She went to her table and started working on more bells, ignoring him completely.

  Gideon stood there and watched. Part of him felt ridiculous, because she was right. She was a thirty-year-old woman with her own business, who had lived in this city almost as long as she’d lived back in Texas. He could see that she was fine. Better than fine.

  But he’d promised Nathan, and he didn’t take that promise lightly. Gideon owed Nathan, big-time.

  She stopped working again, smiling at the people outside as she winked and closed the window. Then she turned on him.

  “Gideon, you’re distracting me, and I can’t afford—literally—to be distracted right now. You can tell Nathan I’m fine, I carry pepper spray and I’m as careful as I can be. I have a business to run, and people counting on me. I’m behind schedule after having to redo the cake that was destroyed the other night—which took two twenty-four-hour days to finish, by the way. I barely made it. Now I’m behind on this one, too, and you’re not helping.”

  Gideon backed off a little, seeing the strain and the exhaustion that he hadn’t caught before. She was stressed, probably afraid, but like the other members of the Michaels clan, she wasn’t one to back down.

  “When is this one supposed to be done?”

  “Three days. I need to deliver it Christmas Eve, for a Christmas Day wedding, and it’s not going as well as I’d hoped. I guess I’m distracted, but I keep messing up the carvings, and the first batch of batter didn’t come out right.”

  “There was nothing wrong with that sample you just handed out, believe me.”

  “This one was good. I need to do it three more times now. I need forty-eight bells, and then I need to bake the base they will rest on. Then decorate.”

  Gideon looked at the bells on the counter. There were eight.

  “It took me the last six hours to do these.”

  “You need to spend thirty more hours at this?”

  “I should be able to make it, but it will be close, assuming no more goofs. Or distractions.” She looked at him pointedly.

  Gideon considered for a moment and stepped forward. “Maybe I could help.”

  Her eyebrows lifted, and she coughed out a laugh. “Are you hiding a culinary degree up your sleeve?”

  “I do a lot of wood carving. How different can it be?”

  Her lips fell apart, her expression shocked. “Are you kidding?”

  “No. I mean, why not? If I can help you carve bells, that will speed things up for you, right? You can bake more cake while I do the carving. Consider it my apology for bugging you.”

  “These have to be done just so. It’s cake, not wood.”

  “Let me try one. You might be surprised.”

  “No. You’re just trying to find a way to stick around watching over me.”

  “Is that so bad?”

  “Is this because we kissed once? Do you think you have some kind of special influence over me or something?”

  “Do I?”

  She crossed her arms over her front. “It was a long time ago, and it was only one kiss. I’ve kissed a lot of other guys since then.”

  Gideon wasn’t sure he liked that idea, but shrugged.

  “Fine. I’ll make you a deal. Let me try one bell, and if I botch it, I go home, tell your family you’re fine and leave you be. If I do okay, I’ll stick around and help. At least for today.”

  “They can’t be okay, they have to be perfect.”

  “Okay. Then if I do perfect, I can stick around.”

  “Why are you pushing this? Why not just go?”

  She sounded exasperated, but he knew he had her on the ropes.

  “Because I owe Nathan. He saved my hide a few months ago, and frankly, I wouldn’t even be standing here if it weren’t for him. He asked me to do a simple favor for him, and I agreed. I’d like to keep my promise, even though it’s clear that you’re okay.”

  She stared at him for several long moments, her shoulders dropping as she pushed a block of cake across the table, relenting.

  “Fine. It’s a deal. You suck, you leave. Wash your hands, put on some gloves and let’s see what you can do.”

  2

  CALLA WATCHED GIDEON study the block of cake as if wondering where to start. He looked at her drawing, her cake plans, and then at the bells she’d done already. He didn’t say a word.

  Ever since she’d met him on the sidewalk, her heart hadn’t settled down for a second. He had beautiful hands. Rough from the carpentry work that he did off hours, but nicely shaped. Masculine. They seemed too large for the delicate block of cake, but he was gentle, too.

  The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

  She hadn’t thought she’d ever see him again. They’d shared a kiss eight years ago. She’d still been a virgin then, and she’d wanted more, but he’d backed off.

  She’d only met one guy she liked in culinary school—Max—and she’d thought he’d be the one, but he had run as fast as he could in the opposite direction when he’d found out about her untouched status. He’d said he couldn’t take that responsibility.

  She’d been home for a month that summer with one goal on her mind—to change that status before she went back to the city. Gideon had appeared to be an excellent solution to her situation. They’d had sparks from the moment they’d met, and she’d wanted him. That had been new to her, too.

  She’d walked with him across the field down by the old barns under the auspices of showing him around the ranch. She’d assumed they were on the same page—that he wanted the same thing she did. She’d known he was attracted to her. She’d been experienced enough to know that—and to try to take advantage of it.

  When he’d kissed her, she’d known she’d made the right choice. His lips had melted her like candle wax at the first touch. His hands on her back, where he’d dragged his fingers back and forth along the skin under the band of her jeans, had set her on fire for the first time ever.

  How could she ever forget those hands?

  He could’ve had her right there and then, and oh, she had wanted him to do just that. But he’d stopped, made some vague excuse about it not being the right time or place and kissed her once more, lightly, before he’d walked back to the party. Alone.

  Twice rejected, still a virgin. What Gideon had done was even worse than what Max had done. She’d been willing, warmed up and ready. She’d wanted him. She’d chosen him. It had been her f
irst real attempt at seduction.

  And he’d walked away.

  It had taken awhile for the bruise on her ego to heal, and eventually she’d even had to give Gideon credit for doing the right thing. Kind of.

  He’d been a few years older, wiser, and he was her brother’s friend. His reasons were better than Max’s, or at least nobler. Still, at the time it had hurt, and she didn’t forget that either.

  Now here he was, sitting in her bakery, holding cake in his hands as if it was a slab of wood, peeling off some delicate edges, thinly sliced, as he eased his way into the block.

  She went to her drawer, grabbed another knife and some cake from the freezer and started another bell. She really didn’t have any time to waste, since now she’d have to fix or redo whatever mess Gideon made. But if this little deal sent him on his way, it was worth it. He was far too distracting.

  She started carving, silently inventing ways to kill her brother Nathan the next time she saw him. She was going to give her older brother an earful for dragging her into whatever was between the two men.

  “There. How’s that so far?”

  Calla had been so lost in her ruminations that she wasn’t paying attention to the minutes ticking by. Gideon’s question shook her out of her trance to find him holding half of a perfectly shaped bell in his hand. He’d managed to get that far in the same time that she had barely made a dent.

  “It’s...great.”

  It was better than great. It was easily as good as hers.

  “Don’t sound so glum about it.”

  “I guess I should have studied carpentry instead of pastry,” she muttered, knowing she was being a bad sport.

  His bell might actually be better than hers, with a few little flourishes that she approved of. There was even a small smattering of applause outside the window as onlookers approved of his effort. She’d reopened the window not to embarrass him on purpose, but because she did so on a schedule, when the most people were walking by at intervals during the day.

  A few more than usual were here this afternoon. Drawn in by her new helper? A number of them were female.

  “So I get to stay and help you out?”

  She frowned. “Looks like.”

  Then he put his cake and knife down and reached across the table to put his hand over hers.

  Ay caramba.

  Calla was pretty sure her entire body sizzled at the touch. Just like it had years ago.

  She drew her hand away, self-conscious with people watching.

  “Calla, listen, if you really want me to leave, I will. Would you mind, though, if I stop by the station and check in on their progress finding your attacker? And maybe let me take you to dinner tonight? I can’t go back until tomorrow anyway.”

  Damn, he was being so nice. Calla knew she was being unreasonable.

  “I’m sorry, I just... It’s family stuff. I’m mad at Nathan, and at life, but I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

  “Want to tell me about it?” he asked gently.

  Calla let out a breath she was holding. He was being so nice. She ended up telling him about the financial trouble the shop was in, her guilt about not going home and just about everything else.

  “So you see, I shouldn’t go to dinner, but it’s not about you. I have to keep working on this,” she finished. She didn’t sound very convincing, though, even to herself. “I have to do whatever it takes to keep this place going.”

  “Well, you have to eat.”

  “Gideon—”

  “Why don’t you let me help you at least finish the bells? Then we can see?”

  Calla considered. Why was she being so stubborn about this?

  “I...guess. I mean, if you really want to, I wouldn’t say no. They seem to like you.”

  She looked out at the crowd—noticing the appreciative looks several women closer to the window were giving Gideon.

  “I’d better bring out some samples.”

  “I can do it, if you like.”

  “Um, sure.”

  She put together a tray and let him take it out. She noticed he grabbed a stack of the business cards she kept on the counter and took those as well, handing one out with each sample.

  Why hadn’t she ever thought of that?

  She continued to work as he chatted with the group and eventually came back in with an empty tray.

  “You received rave reviews, as usual,” he said. “And I had an idea.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why don’t you let them decide on whether you should go to dinner with me tonight?”

  “What?”

  “Make them feel more involved. We can ask them if you should go to dinner with me.”

  “Are you saying we should take a vote?” Her voice rose slightly, incredulous.

  “Why not? Maybe if you can find more ways to get them involved each day, you’ll draw more and more people. That’s the point, right?”

  Calla narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure you’re a cop?”

  He grinned. “My sister’s in marketing.”

  “I see. That was a good move with the business cards. But I think I can make up my own mind about dinner. If we can get enough work done, I think it would be nice. Thank you.”

  And I might not say no to anything else you have in mind, either.

  Not that she would throw herself at him again only to be rebuffed—she’d had enough of that—but...her eyes drifted down to his hands.

  Gideon grinned, sitting back down after washing his hands again.

  “You already told them to vote yes, didn’t you?” Calla intuited, and saw his smile widen.

  She felt the responding smile tug at the edges of her lips, her mood lightening somewhat. It was kind of nice to have someone to talk to as she worked. She hadn’t shared a kitchen with anyone for a few years, and she’d missed it. Or maybe it was Gideon’s company in particular that was so nice.

  “What about your own family? Don’t you need to be home for the holiday?” she asked.

  He returned to his bell, finishing it up before walking to the freezer to grab another hunk of cake.

  “No, not this year. That’s part of why I offered to help Nathan out. My mother passed away over the summer, unexpectedly. My sister invited me to her place in Arizona for the holiday, but honestly, it was easier to get away. I’ve never seen New York at Christmas, so I figured, why not?”

  “I’m so sorry to hear about your mom. You were close?”

  “We were. She raised us alone—my dad died in the line of duty when we were kids, so you know how it is.”

  Calla swallowed hard. She did know, sort of. Her family had had their own share of close calls.

  “I do. Dad was almost killed in an accident when I was twelve, and I lived in fear every time he left the house after that. For Nathan, Bill and Gina, too, for that matter.”

  Gideon frowned. “Is that why you left? Too much worry?”

  Calla looked up sharply. “I didn’t leave. I went to school, which happened to be here in New York. But yes, I suppose it was nice to be in an environment where I didn’t have to think about the danger they were in every day or listen to all of the police and fire reports over dinner every night.”

  “Not to mention how much of a pain in the butt it had to be when your older brothers were all cops, too,” Gideon said with a grin, lightening the mood. “Had to make dating tough.”

  She rolled her eyes, laughing. “You have no idea.”

  She and Gideon worked and chatted for a few more hours, until the skies outside the shop window darkened. When Calla got up to stretch her legs, she saw it was snowing like crazy out.

  “I still love seeing the snow,” she said. “We got some in Texas now and then, but not like this.”

/>   Gideon joined her at the window.

  “This is the first snow I’ve ever seen—real snow, not the slushy Texas stuff,” he said.

  Calla turned to him in surprise. “Really? You’ve never seen snow?”

  He shook his head, staring out the window in awe that made the young boy in him shine through.

  “Not like this.”

  Her heart warmed. “Well, then, what are we doing in here?” She opened the door and went outside.

  He joined her just in time for her to smack him in the side of the head with a makeshift snowball. The snow was soft and fluffy, so no harm done. Calla laughed at his momentary shock, and then at the sheer glee in his expression as he scooped up some snow and threw it back at her.

  He managed to get her at the back of her neck, and the snow slid down her back, making her wiggle as the cold snaked down her spine.

  “Oh, good shot, but so cold,” she said, still laughing and shivering at the same time.

  Then she caught his eye, how he watched her, and she stopped wiggling. Gideon’s dark hair was plastered against his forehead, wet from the snow, his cheeks ruddy from the cold. The look he leveled at her, though, was hot enough to make her forget the icy snow sliding down her back.

  For a moment, so much heat leaped between them they might as well have been back behind the barn in midsummer rather than standing in the middle of a snowstorm.

  Then he broke the connection, shaking the snow from his dark hair as he turned to go back inside.

  Oh, no, you don’t.

  Turnabout was fair play, and Calla hadn’t grown up with two older brothers without knowing how to hold her own. She scooped up some snow, quickly catching up with him as he walked back into the store. She grabbed the back of his sweater, dropping the icy bundle down inside.

  His yelp was her reward.

  When he spun around, wiggling as she had, she grinned and closed the distance between them.

  “Wait. I know a better way to warm you up,” she said, pushing up on tiptoe and kissing him.

  She meant it to be a quick kiss—or maybe she didn’t. Calla was exhausted, thrown off her game by the strange week and by being so close to Gideon for most of the day.