Page 9 of Caught in a Christmas Conundrum

seven

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Kate

I knowthat Lucas was not deliberately distracting me. But I felt like I was either going to laugh or cry, and I would prefer to laugh. It seems like picking on him and teasing him a bit might help. His reaction was telling. He absolutely did not want me to think for one second that he was trying to sabotage anything.

He truly believes what he told me. And I absolutely agree. Now, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.

“I’m so glad that thing is off. Thank you.” I sigh in relief as the smoke detector finally stops its shrill beeping. It makes my head feel like it’s going to explode. “I usually end up taking the batteries out of it.”

“That’s a health code violation,” he says casually as he shakes out his other apron, then folds it up and sets it aside. “I think I can keep this one on for now. It seems to be more appropriate for our situation.”

His eyes are twinkling as they meet mine, and I love that we can laugh together. I feel like he might be winning the apron contest though, so I determine as I take the trash out, I’m going to grab another one.

“I’ll be right back,” I say as I grab the bag with the burnt sweet corn cupcakes in it.

“Do you need me to watch the oven while you’re gone?” he asks, in a bit of an exaggerated way that makes me feel like he’s totally teasing me.

“Yes. If I’m gone for more than thirty seconds, you probably ought to check them.”

“Will do,” he says, “but if I have to do your work and mine, I can’t guarantee that I’m going to be much help.”

I laugh as I leave.

I throw the trash in the bin and grab another apron on my way back through. This one says,life is short, lick the spoon. It’s not nearly as appropriate as his, but I can’t allow his challenge to go unanswered. We have not talked about the apron war at all, but even if I never win the barbecue contest, I’m going to win the apron war. I need to get a bigger supply. All of my family knows about my aprons, and that’s usually what I get for Christmas and my birthday. Although, sometimes I get duplicates. I suppose I should pass them on to him. He would look good in a pink frilly apron.

I think that sarcastically, but the rational part of my brain says that actually, Lucas would look good in anything. It wouldn’t matter how pink or frilly, he will still look manly and confident.

It’s an attractive quality, that confidence, and I find myself hurrying back, not because I don’t want to burn anything, although there is that, but because I want to see him more. He’s…interesting and fun and funny and sweet, and he has the character to back that all up. How can I not admire him?

I walk back in. He has cabbage out and is shredding it for his coleslaw.

His eyes meet mine, and I stumble a bit at the look in them. Is that admiration?

“Are you okay?” he asks, and there is concern in his face and voice.

“Yeah. I’m good,” I say. “Why?”

“I just wanted to make sure. I thought maybe I would have to console you, but you seem to have bounced back pretty well.”

“Surely as a chef, you know that sometimes you burn stuff. And while it’s not the way I wanted to have today go, I know that it’s just a fact of life in the line of work we’re in.”

“Some people fight that. They don’t think that they should ever make mistakes.” He sounds like he appreciates the fact that I’m rolling with this. I just don’t know any other way to be.

“If I got upset over every mistake I made, I would spend my life upset. And what’s the fun in that?” I ask, tossing my head, which doesn’t have nearly the effect that it would have if my hair was not caught up in a hairnet.

“That’s a great way to look at life,” he says, turning back to his work. I wouldn’t want him to cut himself, so I’m glad he’s paying attention to it, but I have to admit I liked his eyes on me too. I like that look. I like the way it makes me feel, warm and happy and somehow admired in a way that I haven’t felt in a very long time, if ever.

There’s definitely something about having a man admire you.

And to have a man like Lucas, someone who is successful and confident, not just admire me but be willing to sacrifice in order to help me means a lot.

“I owe you,” I say.

He shakes his head without looking up. He’s gotten down to the last little bit, and he needs to pay attention so he doesn’t cut his fingers.

“You do not. I want to. I’m enjoying this, and I think it’s actually going to change the dynamic of our relationship.”

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