A Dash of Christmas

by Samantha Chase

  Letting out a long breath, he crossed his arms over his chest and studied her. “What’s wrong this time?”

  She was peering into the pot, her nose wrinkled with distaste.

  “It smells funny.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. “Funny how?”

  “Like…” She groaned with annoyance. “I don’t know, Carter! Can’t you just make something normal for dinner? Does everything have to be pretentious?”

  “Pretentious?” he mocked. “Em, this is a simple carbonara sauce and it’s delicious. It’s a very popular dish. You said you wanted Italian for dinner tonight, so I made you something Italian!”

  Rolling her eyes, she walked across the kitchen to the pantry, where she moved things around on the shelf before turning to face him.

  While holding up a can of crushed tomatoes.

  “When I said Italian, I figured you’d make a normal red sauce! Maybe some spaghetti and meatballs or some baked ziti! Did you think to ask if I’d want something with…with… What the hell is that in there?” she yelled.

  “Pancetta.”

  “Pan-whatta?” she mocked.

  Walking over, he took the can of tomatoes from her and placed it on the kitchen counter. “Will you just trust me on this? Please? Taste it and if you don’t love it, I’ll whip up a quick red sauce for you.”

  There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that if she just stopped fighting him on this food thing, she’d actually find new dishes to enjoy. He wasn’t going to whip up another sauce because he wasn’t going to need to. Once he mixed the sauce with some linguine and added a healthy dose of pecorino romano cheese and some black pepper, she’d be thanking him.

  “Seriously, what is pancetta?”

  “It’s like bacon,” he explained. “And it is so flavorful, I know you’re going to love it.” He gave her a loving tap on the tip of her nose. “And I know how much you adore bacon.”

  “Not on my pasta,” she murmured.

  “Emery…”

  She growled again and stormed across the room. “I’m going to try your damn bacon pasta stuff because I know you’ll just keep hounding me until I do, but I have some stipulations too.”

  Unable to stop himself, he laughed. “Oh really? This I can’t wait to hear.”

  That only seemed to rile her up more.

  “If I eat this crap—which I am vehemently against—then for the next three nights, you have to make food that I like,” she said firmly.

  “So popcorn and nachos for dinner?” he asked sarcastically. “Done.”

  Myriad emotions played across her face but she didn’t lash back at him. Instead, she calmly walked around to the opposite side of the kitchen island and said, “Comfort food. I want meatloaf and mashed potatoes, pot roast with carrots, maybe some chili or homemade chicken soup, and”—she leaned across the island, her eyes narrowing at him—“spaghetti and meatballs. You know, normal food.”

  His mind was already spinning with some great stuffed meatloaf recipes as well as some meatballs he’d eaten in Sicily that were made with pine nuts.

  “Oh no!” she cried, pointing at him. “I can see it already–you’re going to put your Carter Montgomery spin on those meals and that’s not allowed! You have to cook them in the normal, regular, everyday kind of way. No crazy ingredients! Do you understand?”

  Carter had always known he was passionate about food—about cooking it, creating it, and eating it. Apparently, Emery was equally passionate—but in a completely different way.

  Nodding, he agreed. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.”

  It was her turn to nod. “I’m going to look over those pictures we took this morning of the breakfast foods and see if there are any we can use. Call me when you’re done.” Then she turned and walked up the stairs.

  This morning he had baked cinnamon rolls from scratch and made seafood benedict for them. Well, it was for the book, but they definitely benefitted from it. They’d been cooking so damn much over the last week and Emery had been taking pictures and getting some great shots with the holiday décor in the background. His mother was giddy with the results and this morning they had decided to host a mock Christmas dinner at her place with their extended family—or as many of them as they could wrangle up—to do a photo shoot. This time with a professional photographer.

  When he had called his mother and talked to her about the idea, she had squealed with delight. Within the hour she had confirmed Uncle William and Aunt Monica would be coming in, as well as Aunt Janice and Uncle Robert. Megan and Alex were going to fly in, and apparently Christian and Sophie too. Beyond them, it was anyone’s guess as to how many of their cousins would make it. After all, it wasn’t as if this was happening at Christmas—it was just for the purpose of a couple of photos. Hell, they probably could have hired strangers to come sit and pretend to be family without making so many people fly across the country for a meal. But his mother assured him it was always a good thing to get everyone together and she was thankful for the excuse to do so for a happy occasion.

  Even if it was fake, he thought.

  So he’d been working on finalizing the menu while at the same time trying to work on the menu for the new restaurant. Nothing was fitting there, not like it was with the book. He wanted something different, something you couldn’t find on the menus at his other restaurants, but his mind was a complete blank. He’d thought all of this cooking would inspire him, but it hadn’t.

  And it was frustrating as hell.

  The only thing keeping him sane, ironically, was Emery.

  In the kitchen and while they were working, she could be a complete pain in the ass, but once they were done and moved on to any topic other than food, she was amazing.

  And that didn’t include the way she had completely worn him out and blown his mind on a nightly basis.

  He kept waiting for things to get awkward, or maybe just to cool down. But they didn’t. If anything, with each day he found more about her to like, more he wanted to know, and he was craving her more than he’d thought possible. For all the years they had known each other, it had been relatively superficial. But now they were talking about their lives and sharing things and he realized how little they really knew about one another.

  And he was enjoying everything he was discovering about her.

  They had one more week here at the house, and then it would be time to return to their normal lives. He had to get back down to New Orleans, and Emery…well, she still seemed up in the air. She mentioned going back upstate and returning to work, but she’d shared how that wasn’t as appealing as she’d once thought. His heart went out to her. Her entire life had been thrown for a loop and it left her at loose ends.

  This cookbook project had been a great distraction, and once they went to his mother’s for the weekend, they would be done. Come Sunday night, he was leaving and he had no idea where Emery was going.

  Probably should talk about that…

  And why weren’t they talking about it? Because he didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to think about the time when he was going to have to say goodbye to her. Not that it would be forever, but it would certainly be a while before they would have time to be together again. He had to settle back into his schedule and buckle down on this new menu, and she had things of her own to figure out. The time apart could be a good thing for them—a chance to see if what they had right now was real.

  None of this was going to come up tonight over dinner, that was for sure. She was already feeling a little hostile about what she was eating, no need to add to it by forcing her to talk about topics she was clearly avoiding.

  This was new and foreign to him—talking about feelings and the future. The relationships he usually had were casual, and Carter had always used work as an excuse to keep from getting serious. It wasn’t really an excuse, it was
how his life was. He was always busy and his time wasn’t his own. Getting the restaurants off the ground and making money involved long hours in the beginning. But now? The reality was that his three existing restaurants ran well without him. He’d hired the best staff and had excellent managers in place who handled everything. He was merely a figurehead—the face of the restaurant. His presence wasn’t particularly necessary. And after he went back to New Orleans for a few weeks—which was more for him than anything else—his time was going to be spent here in Montauk for the foreseeable future.

  And that made him freeze for a moment.

  He was going to be here in New York.

  For a while.

  Then he pushed that aside because being here in the same state as Emery wasn’t the same as being near her. It was a five-hour drive, six by train, to where she lived. It wasn’t as if they’d be close enough to go out to dinner on the spur of the moment.

  But they could have their weekends together.

  That was something, right?

  With a sigh, he raked his hand through his hair and put his attention back on their dinner. Now that he knew just how much she wasn’t enthused about the meal, he wanted to do what he could to make it appealing. While waiting for the water to boil for the linguine, he whipped up a caesar salad because he knew she loved those. He picked out one of her favorite wines. He set a beautiful table and turned on some soft music. Even if she didn’t enjoy the food, she would enjoy the atmosphere—and this house and its view provided some incredible atmosphere. He’d already talked to his real estate agent about getting the house again when he came back in a month and although the homeowner did have some other renters interested, Carter had negotiated like the shrewd businessman he was and managed to get the extended lease. He had fallen in love with the place and knew Emery had as well. It would be nice for her to have it to come to on the weekends.

  Should she want to.

  And man oh man, did he hope she wanted to.

  * * *

  Clicking on the last picture on her laptop screen, Emery smiled.

  She’d done it. She’d gotten this cookbook done. The pictures were perfect, and once they did a final shoot with Carter’s family, it would be ready to go to the formatter, who had everything ready and just had to plug the new files in. Eliza was thrilled. Attaching the pictures she’d just edited in an email to Carter’s mother, she hit Send and sat back, stretching. She’d had no idea this project would feel so fulfilling. It was silly, really—it seemed like such a simple thing when she’d first been approached about it, but now that it was done, she could say honestly it was one of the best accomplishments she’d ever experienced.

  She’d learned so much about cooking and the amount of time and prep work that went into it. Not that it made her want to cook, but it was interesting. Carter made it all look easy, but it was part of who he was—it came as naturally to him as breathing. But she’d like to think the reason these recipes came easily to him or this project finally came together was because of her. She wanted to believe they worked well as a team and wanted him to see it too.

  Would she sound stupid or needy if she asked him?

  At the end of the week they’d head back upstate to his mother’s house and do a meal with his family. They had no idea how many Montgomerys were going to show up, but at last count at least a dozen. She laughed softly. No doubt it would be a loud and boisterous affair and so completely different from anything she’d ever experienced with her own family. No, the Monaghans were very reserved. Even when her sisters came home for the holidays with their families, it wasn’t fun or relaxing like she was certain Carter’s family was going to be. Not that she had anything to go by; it was just something she knew because she’d been around Carter and listened to his stories for the last several weeks.

  She envied them their closeness, their laughter, their ability to put joy into simply being together. So for that one weekend when she would get to play a part in the family meal and photo shoot, she would take it all in and keep it with her when her own family holidays threatened to depress the hell out of her.

  It was just one of the many things she’d take away from this time with Carter.

  Sunday night he was leaving and she was going back to her own home for the first time in close to two months.

  And not looking forward to it one bit.

  Besides the usual stuff most people dreaded about going home—laundry, sorting through mail, etc.—Emery had to deal with sorting through her life.

  Amazingly enough, things had been anticlimactic after her refusal to show up at court for Derek. Of course she had taken away his lawyer’s threat by simply not being at the address he was going to leak. Her mother had called and left multiple voice messages regarding her own disappointment in Emery’s behavior, but that wasn’t anything new. After the fourth one, Emery hadn’t heard from her since.

  Morbid curiosity had her going to a news site and looking for the latest on Derek. It surprised her to see how he had—only days ago—made a public confession of his wrongdoings and was going into rehab for alcohol, prescription drugs, and sex addiction. Swallowing hard, she scrolled down the page to a video clip of his statement.

  “But most of all, I’m sorry for letting my family down,” he said solemnly. He looked impeccable, as always. Not a hair out of place and wearing a three-thousand-dollar suit. “My behavior has ruined so many lives and that’s not something I can ignore. To my parents, I hope you know how much I love you. To my colleagues and the public who trusted me, I apologize for breaking that trust. And to Emery,” he said, looking directly at the camera, “I regret how our relationship ended.”

  No apology.

  And no real regret in his damn voice.

  Slamming the laptop shut, she let out a shuddery breath and stood, going over to the window and looking out at the beach. Then she spun, quickly went down the stairs, and walked outside with nothing more than an “I’ll be back in a few minutes” to Carter. In the distance, she heard him call out to her and ask if she was all right, but she needed to breathe.

  By the time she hit the edge of the backyard and her feet touched the sand, her eyes stung with tears and she didn’t care if they fell or what a mess she would end up looking like. Taking off in a sprint, she ran down to the edge of the water, bent at the waist, and waited to get sick.

  Strong arms suddenly came around her, gently holding her while she shook and forced herself to breathe normally. When she straightened, she turned and buried her face into his chest, his hands slowly, rhythmically, rubbing up and down her back. He didn’t say a word, although she knew he had to be curious what had happened. She had no idea how much time passed before she finally felt a little more in control of herself. Pulling back slightly, she looked up at him and offered a weak smile. “Thank you.”

  His expression was firm. Fierce. “You okay?”

  Shaking her head, she whispered, “No.”

  He waited, not pushing her to talk until she was ready.

  Letting out one last shaky breath, she stayed in the circle of his arms and explained about the article she’d just read and Derek’s statement. “He apologized to everyone. Every. One. Except me.” She paused. “I knew our relationship wasn’t perfect. Hell, it wasn’t even good by the time the news story broke. But to think I invested two years in a relationship with him—was prepared to marry him—and he didn’t have the decency to apologize to me publicly the way he did to everyone else?”

  The trembling was back and Carter pulled her in close again. They were practically cheek to cheek right now and—not for the first time—she was thankful for his presence. Those first few weeks she hadn’t had anyone she could draw comfort or support from. Not like this. Right now, she just wanted someone to listen to her—to hear her without offering some ridiculous platitude about how things weren’t as bad as they seemed.

  Bull. Sh
it.

  They sucked.

  They were worse than what they seemed and this press conference video proved it.

  Derek’s career was over for the time being, but she had a feeling he’d be back in office eventually. Maybe he wouldn’t go as far as he’d once dreamed, but politics was in his blood. His family had very deep pockets and they’d do whatever it took to get him back in the game when the time came.

  Just the thought of it made her sick.

  The only silver lining to this was how she had been spared having to stand there in the media circus with everyone looking at her with pity. When she got home, maybe the bulk of it would have died down and she could quietly slip back into her life, going back to work and even going to the grocery store without everyone wanting to talk about Derek and the whole debacle.

  She doubted it would be that simple, but for now she had to cling to the hope that the worst was over. All she had left was this anger.

  With one last heavy sigh, she stepped out of his arms. “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Believe me, you did everything. More than you’ll ever know.”

  His expression didn’t change. Didn’t waver. But he held out his hand to her and together they walked back into the house. Once inside, he let go of her and walked over to the stove, turning the burner back on before checking the pasta. The look on his face told her he wasn’t disappointed with what he found. Clearly, dinner wasn’t ruined.

  Dammit.

  Then she let out a low laugh and walked over to join him, pouring them each a glass of wine. He was tense, she could see it in his movements, and knew she needed to defuse the situation.

  “So dinner isn’t ruined, huh?”

  He shook his head.