by Diane Bator
Christina called Sophie’s house and cell phone and got no reply. She was on her own for the day. That figured. She’d never been able to rely on anyone, which was part of the reason she’d left home to begin with.
Reliability was something definitely lacking in her relationships. Her thoughts bounced between Gage and Brady, the men she’d left behind in Newville, as they had at least seven times a day since she left the city. She’d found her cell phone tucked in a pocket of her suitcase last night. It had remained untouched since before the funeral.
When she turned her phone on, she was greeted by forty-five missed calls, most of them from University officials to see if she planned to return for classes. A few messages from friends at work checking to see if she was still alive. Angel was joking, but Christina wasn’t as sure about Jakova’s snide comments.
Brady had left a dozen half-hearted messages, but only one call was from Gage, who’d cancelled their coffee date for September sixteenth. The day of her mother’s funeral. Even if she’d gotten the message in time, she wouldn’t have called back. A fickle artist, he’d probably found another model to warm his bed before Christina had even boarded the bus for Packham.
She frowned. Once upon a time, she was convinced she was madly in love with him. As artists went, he stood out. He adored Andy Warhol and went so far as to shave his head, wear a white wig, and paint his studio apartment silver. He’d even covered all his tables with foil.
All Christina wanted was to win Gage’s heart and be his muse. Gage would be a famous painter one day who’d proudly display the canvases she posed for. She’d posed naked for hours in rooms so cold she’d watched ice crystals form in the puffs of her breath for amusement. Her best friend and conscience, Brady had encouraged their budding romance, apparently as fascinated with Gage as she was.
She’d already lost track of how many more days there were before Christmas. She had no idea when Mel would return from Florida. December thirty-first, whether he was back or not, she’d close the bakery for good and go back to Newville. She’d immerse her mind in her studies, painting, modeling, dancing, anything to avoid the real world. She didn’t fit in around Packham anyway. She never had.
A familiar hum filled the room and her butt cheek shimmied. She’d forgotten she’d stuck the cell phone in her back pocket out of habit. The phone chirped an electronic version of The Love Boat. Gage’s idea so he could pick her out in a crowded gallery. She glanced at the screen and wondered why he’d suddenly call after three months of silence.
After the fourth ring, she reached to turn the phone off. Against her better judgment, she answered anyway, her voice clogged with the tears that threatened to swarm her eyes. She hadn’t realized she’d missed him so much. “Gage. Hi.”
“Who is this?” a woman answered.
The hairs on the nape of her neck stood up. Something was wrong. “Who are you? What are you doing with Gage’s phone?”
“Are you friends with D.J. Gage?” the woman asked. Probably one of the models he’d replaced her with after she’d left. “If you are, I need to—”
Impulse made Christina hang up as she gasped to catch her breath. Her heart raced and her hands shook so hard she dropped the phone on the floor. The phone rang again on the second bounce. She turned the cell phone off and stuck it in her back pocket, her mind racing and her hands shaking. The last thing she wanted was to chit-chat with one of Gage’s girlfriends.
The timer signaled her batch of cookies were done. As she reached into the oven to pull out the trays, her arm brushed the side of the oven, searing the skin on the side of her elbow. “Damn!” She dropped the tray of cookies all over the floor and slammed the oven door.
Before she could get to the sink to run cold water over it, a dark-haired woman, walked into the store. The phone call had rattled her more than she’d thought. Her hands shook and she faked good cheer even though her stomach churned. Was that how her mom had slogged through each day?
“I’ll be right there.” Christina took the remaining trays from the oven, sucked in a bracing breath, and pasted on a smile. “What can I get for you? The sugar cookies are still warm and that’s my last loaf of cherry cake for today.”
“Actually, I’m looking for a gingerbread house.” The woman slid off her leather gloves and rubbed her delicate hands together. “We’re having a Christmas party this weekend and I don’t have time to make one.”
“A gingerbread house?” Christina cringed. The request was capped off an already lousy morning. “I’m out right now.”
The woman winced. “Will you have more before Friday?”
That gave her four days. Crap. Of all the things she hated to make. She blinked back her frustration as well as the pain from the burn on her arm. “I don’t—”
When the door opened, Clancy’s friend Leo strode in. His cheeks pink from the cold and eyes bright, his gaze met Christina’s and he grinned then nudged the dark-haired woman. “Try the sugar cookies. I hear they’re the best in town.”
“Leo.” The woman turned and threw her arms around his neck. “When did you get back? Why didn’t you call?”
Christina clamped her mouth shut before she said anything stupid.
While Leo gave her customer a bear hug, Christina looked away and bowed her head. Apparently, he already knew her well. “Danny wanted me to stick around for a while to help with the renovations on his house. He’s delusional if he thinks I’ll help, but I thought I’d catch up with some of my favorite people before I leave.”
“Then you’d better stop by the house,” the dark-haired woman said. “The kids miss you.”
Christina’s eyes widened. Clancy never said anything about Leo having a wife or kids.
Leo’s face reddened and he met her gaze. “I’m assuming you know Christina since you come in with the kids all the time.”
“You know, I don’t think we’ve never actually met.” Lucy reached a hand over the glass case. “Lucy Stephen. It’s nice to finally meet you, Christina.”
Christina narrowed her eyes. “You have three kids, don’t you? Two boys and a girl who like éclairs and monster cookies.”
“So do I.” Lucy blushed. “And the butter tarts. I’ll take a dozen of those too while I’m here. Honestly, I don’t know how you don’t eat them all yourself.”
“I make so many of them I can’t stand the sight of them.” And the wheat made her sick to her stomach. “Anything else for you?”
Lucy smiled as Leo moved away from her. “Just the gingerbread house. Do you need my name and phone number?”
“Right. The gingerbread house. Yes, please.” Christina winced then glanced at Leo and grabbed a pen and paper.
Leo leaned over the display case to study the assorted treats. “Those cream puffs look amazing.”
“Since when do you haunt the bakery anyway?” Lucy poked him in the ribs. “I can’t believe you’re eating this stuff. I thought you were Mr. Fitness. Keep this up and you’ll be carting around your own spare tire in no time.”
He shrugged. “A friend recently introduced me to Christina’s calzones.”
“Oh really?” Lucy raised her eyebrows and shot Leo a knowing look. “Calzones, huh? Those sound good. What’s in them?”
“Pepperoni, cheese, and sauce. They sell out fast.” Christina met Leo’s gaze. “I don’t normally make a lot of them.”
“But she always has some in the back for Clancy and his strays.” Leo winked. “Like me.”
“Clancy? Does he still come in here a lot?” There was the unmistakable hint of jealousy in Lucy’s voice.
Heat spread through Christina’s face. “He’s my brother.”
“Oh, of course. He told me you were in town, but...” Lucy bit her lip then turned to Leo. “Hey, do you have time for tea? It would be great to catch up while the kids are still at school. I have a couple more errands to run, but we could meet in twenty minutes or so.”
“Yeah, you want to meet at Java Jo’s when you’re done?”
The look he gave her spoke volumes and seemed more like one a concerned brother gave his sister. The looks Clancy used to give Christina before she’d finally left home for good.
Lucy smiled. “Sure. You can fill me in on what you’re up to these days.”
Christina averted her gaze again. Something was going on—or at least had gone on—between Lucy and Leo, yet Lucy didn’t know Leo was back in town. She rang up the order with a dozen questions for Clancy burning in her brain. “I’ll call you when I have the gingerbread house ready. Do you want the candy on it or should I give you extra icing so the kids can decorate?”
“Yeah, let’s do it that way. The kids would love to decorate one and it would keep them out of my hair for a while.” Lucy handed her a twenty dollar bill then pointed a finger at Leo. “You should come over Saturday. The kids and I are having a Christmas party. We’d love you to come by if you’re still be in town.”
“I plan to be.” He shrugged. “Although plans can change.”
“Uh-huh. I remember how that goes.” Lucy’s comment made Leo sound unreliable.
He covered his eyes. “Can we talk about this later?”
Lucy glanced from him to Christina before she flashed a smug grin. “Sure. I have to stop and see Katie for a few minutes, but I’ll meet you at Jo’s. Nice to finally meet you, Christina.”
“What’s wrong?” Leo leaned on the counter and met Christina’s gaze again. “You look like you’re ready to cry. Oh, and for the record, Lucy’s your brother’s girlfriend, not mine. There’s no reason for you to be jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.” Christina winced at the pain on her elbow. She wanted to make up some lame excuse about how he and Lucy had distracted her, instead she returned to the kitchen and ran her elbow under cold water.
Leo followed her into the kitchen and paused next to the sink. When he handed her a wad of tissues from the box on the counter, she waited for him to interrogate her. The questions never came. Without a word, his strong arms encircled her then he held her close.
She didn’t bother to push him away, between the pain in her arm and the mysterious call from Gage’s phone, she broke down in tears. It was the first time she’d fallen apart in months and was glad Leo said nothing, but just held her while she cried. Several minutes later, Christina caught her breath and wiped her face.
“You okay now?” He examined her elbow then stuck her arm back beneath the water.
“Thank you.” She dabbed at her eyes. “I guess I just needed a good cry.”
Leo nodded and handed her dry tissues. “Looks like you need a babysitter before you maim yourself. ”
“Are you volunteering?” She gave her eyes one last wipe.
“Yup. You got any more sugar cookies?”
“Typical man.” Christina forced a laugh. “I’m crying a river and all you want is food.”
Leo stood in front of her, so close his breath fluttered her stray strands of hair. “Well, that’s not all I want, but it’ll have to do for now.”
Her body surged with heat, leaving her breathless. “Sugar cookies it is.”
“Looks like you have more than you can handle.” He glanced down the cookies that littered the floor then pulled her close again. “Are these the victims from when you burned your arm? You really should get that looked at.”
“Yeah. I work in a bakery. It’s bound to happen.” When the bells over the front door jingled, Christina backed away. “Customer. I’ve got to go.”
Leo skirted around her and shot her a warning glare. “I’ll go up front. You stay under water and take care of your burn.”
She scowled and reached for the tap. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Stay.” When he pointed a finger at her, the tone of his voice made her flinch.
Christina stayed. The burn had blistered, but only with a few small bubbles and would be fine in a day or two. She focused her gaze on the steady stream of water and wished it could take all her worries down the drain. Temporarily, at least.
Leo leaned in the doorway. “How is it you got all the looks and brains in the family?”
“Total fluke.” She shifted her weight, her back stiff. “Who was it?”
“Some lady who wanted my sugar cookies. I told her to take a hike.”
“Leo!”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m kidding. I sold her a dozen cream puffs, a cherry cake, and three loaves of bread.”
She blew out a slow breath. “That’s great. Thanks.”
Leo stood behind her, his face brushed her hair as he reached around to shut off the water. He turned her around then examined her burn. “This needs to be covered up before the blisters pop all over the kitchen. Where’s your first aid kit?”
“Right above your head.”
He didn’t bother to move around her, but pressed her back against the sink as he reached up. With a grin, he dried her burn then smeared her bubbled skin with ointment before he taped gauze over top.
“Thanks, Mr. Mom.” Christina had nowhere to look except directly at Leo, who hadn’t shaved in a day or two. She itched to run her hands over the stubble.
“No problem. So, what brought on the waterfall?”
She closed her eyes. He already knew about the burn and certainly didn’t need to hear about her other life. Instead, she leaned against the counter and sighed. “I can’t make a gingerbread house.”
“Of course you can.” He chuckled. “What kind of sugar cookie baker can’t make a gingerbread house?”
Tears welled in her eyes again and she pushed him away, not bothering to hold back her anger. “A really crappy one who should be waiting tables in a dingy bar and studying art history or psychology instead of pretending to run a stupid bakery. I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I should’ve left town the second Mom’s funeral was over.”
Leo backed away. “Gimme a dozen éclairs too.”
She placed her fists on her hips. “You didn’t hear a word I just said.”
“Sure, I did. You wish you’d never come to Oz, but you can’t find your ruby slippers so you can get back home. I get it.” He hesitated then met her gaze. “Honey, there are a lot of days I wish I never came back from Afghanistan, but I did, even if it was in several pieces. Life goes on, babe. If I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up, I’d already be there.”
She stared, her mouth hanging open. “What?”
“Man, are you ever a Grinch about the whole Christmas thing.” Leo walked back into the store front and leaned over to study the scarce assortment of goodies behind the glass. “No decorations, no colored candies, no music. I guess you didn’t get that pony you wanted when you were six, huh?”
Christina folded her arms across her chest. “Are you here to buy something or just stand here and psychoanalyze me to death?”
“I’ll take a dozen éclairs and a half dozen cookies.” He straightened up. “All I’m saying is that every other shop in town is all decked out for the holidays and you don’t have so much as a candy cane or the radio on, which I know you have since Clancy turned the music on yesterday.”
“And?” She walked into the warmth of the back room, trying to pretend he wasn’t there. The smell of his cologne mingled with the fresh baking as she opened the oven door. “I think you should go now.”
“And I think you need to show a little Christmas spirit.” Leo followed, pausing to hold his hands in front of the open oven door and bask in the warmth. He wore a leather bomber jacket and a cheery red scarf which clashed with his spiked red hair, but he didn’t seem to care. “By the way, I still want cookies and dozen éclairs.”
While Clancy had mentioned Leo was a boxer and martial artist, she hadn’t realized that meant he enjoyed picking fights outside the ring with five-foot-nothing women covered in enriched white flour. She nudged him out of the way, put several trays of raw cookie dough into the oven then shut the door before Leo could get too comfortable. “So I’m not into Christmas. Big deal. Not everyone in the world i
s, you know.”
“You used to be. Clancy told me so.”
Christina’s shoulders sagged. “Clancy says a lot of things. Just consider me the Ghost of Christmas Past and feel free to leave.” She grabbed one of the trays she’d taken out of the oven and dropped it quickly. Typical dumb move, she’d forgotten the oven mitt. What was Leo doing to her?
She grabbed a towel and slid the baked cookies onto the cooling racks, aware he hadn’t so much as flinched. “What now?”
“I wasn’t aware Ebenezer Scrooge had descendants.” Leo stood motionless, only his gaze followed her around the kitchen.
Christina snorted. “Of course, he didn’t. He was a fictional character until Hollywood got hold of him.”
He chuckled and tugged a gingerbread cookie off the cooling rack. “So what made you decide to work in a bakery?”
“Brute force.” When his eyebrows rose, she huffed. “My mom owned the bakery. When she died of cancer in September, my dad couldn’t bear to close the place. Since he hates both baking and hard work, he conned me into keeping it open for Christmas.”
“He conned you?”
“If you have a better word for it, I’m all ears.” She snapped, then sucked in a sharp breath. “He convinced me I was the only one who could make Mom’s sugar cookies to perfection. I’m also the only one who knows her gingerbread recipe. I just can’t turn the dough into a bloody house.” She set the last cookie on the cooling rack. “And yes, flattery got him everywhere.”
“Ah,” Leo said. “Culinary blackmail. I take it you don’t enjoy your work.”
Christina rolled her eyes. “I’d rather stuff jalapenos up my nose.”
He chuckled. “So why’d you stay?”
Why did she stay? “Guilt. It’s Christmas and people love a good gingerbread man.”
Leo pressed his lips together and looked like he wanted to make a lewd comment, but took another cookie instead. “What would you rather be doing?”
Christina stared at him wide-eyed. What would she rather be doing? Pretty much anything.