Page 27 of Taste of Addiction

“Oh, thanks, but I’m good,” he responds. “Appreciate it, though.”

I wonder if anyone has offered to make him a sandwich—ever. And there it is. A smile! Barely would classify it as one, but a slight curl of the lips, nonetheless. Candy raspberry it is. I text myself a reminder of what candy I will be able to enjoy later, all at Collins’s expense. I am up to three pieces already and the day is not nearly half over yet.

I am two bites away from being done with my food when Malcolm shows up with a huge delivery of baking supplies.

“Here you go, ma’am,” he says, placing the six bags down on the island. “Enjoy.”

Malcolm is a jolly man who has the most personality out of all of the security men who work for Graham. He has the southern gentleman appeal going on—but probably with a pistol attached to his ankle. He could take me to church and to a gun range all within the same day.

“Thank you. You are very efficient,” I compliment.

“That’s what Mr. Hoffman pays me for,” he says with a Cheshire cat smile.

If I was playing the candy-eating game with him, I would have diabetes by now. Malcolm is a natural smiler.

I rinse my sandwich plate and put it into the dishwasher and then prepare my work area for my cookie baking marathon. I get the carols playing on the sound system and dance around the kitchen getting my bake on.

* * *

It is four o’clock when I put the finishing touches on my last cookie. I cleaned as I baked, so the only thing left to do is start packaging up my creations into translucent plastic gift bags. I made eight dozen of three different types and feel accomplished. Having a goal each day has kept me from slipping into the darkness, and making gifts for others always has a calming effect on my mood. Who would have thought I could be this productive?

I put six cookies into each bag and use a red ribbon to make a bow at the top. I then skip up to my room to bring down the personalized mugs that I pressed this morning—each with a different message. I add the cookies to each mug and attach a gift tag to the handles.

“Collins?” I call out when I don’t see him in his usual location.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, moving into the room.

“I made this for you. Call it an early Christmas gift,” I say, handing him his mug that saysBoss’s Main Sidekickacross the side. “I gave you a few extra of the iced gingerbread ones, since they are your fave.”

“Wow,” he says, turning the mug a few times in his hands and looking at the details, “this is really nice. No one has ever done this for me before.”

“Well, you deserve something for you too,” I say with a smile.

He reads the words out loud and laughs. “Very accurate.”

“I know, right?” I giggle.

“I made Graham a set of mugs for Christmas but don’t tell him, please.”

“This is one secret I can keep,” he promises. “Thanks again for my gift. Mr. Hoffman is a lucky man.”

“Is it okay if I take a walk to the field before it gets too dark to see?”

“That’s fine. Just dress warm—it is cold out there.”

“Okay, let me go change and I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

“Sounds good.”

“Oh, can you pass out these gifts to the other men? I made everyone one. They are labeled.”

“Of course,” Collins says with a genuine smile. It is so pure that I have to count it as two pieces of candy.

I jog up to my room to put on warmer clothes. Pajama pants and a T-shirt will not cut it. I put on leggings under a pair of soft denim jeans. I layer a thermal shirt with a thick knit sweater and slide on wool socks. When I get downstairs, Collins is waiting for me—already dressed—with a black and red plaid fleece blanket in his hands.

“So you don’t have to lie on the cold ground,” he says, handing it to me.

I smile at him and nod. I really hope he doesn’t work so hard for Graham that he is unable to have a life of his own. He would make a great catch for a lucky woman, assuming she is attracted to the strong and silent types. It would be fun trying to pair him up, but I assume Graham would be furious if I helped him lose his right-hand man to a woman.

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