Page 112 of The Holiday Gift

Traditions? No, not unless she might count formal family dinners with little conversation and a serious dearth of kindness. “Not really. I didn’t come from a particularly close family.”

“No brothers or sisters?”

“A sister. She’s several years younger than I am. We’ve lost touch over the years.”

Susan had rebelled against their grandparents by following in their mother’s footsteps, burying her misery in drugs and alcohol. Last he heard, she was in her third stint at rehab to avoid a prison sentence.

“I can’t imagine losing touch with my brothers.” Sympathy turned Caidy’s eyes an intense green. “They’re my best friends. Laura and Becca are like sisters to me now too.”

“You Bowmans seem a united front against the world.”

“I guess so. It hasn’t always been that way, but it’s the now that counts, right?”

“Yes. You’re very lucky.”

She opened her mouth to speak, then appeared to think better of it. “I think this should be ready now.”

With a twist of her wrist, she deftly tossed the dough onto a pizza peel sprinkled with cornmeal and crimped the edges before handing the whole peel to him with a flourish.

“Here you go. All yours.”

“Uh.” He stared helplessly at the naked pizza dough, not quite sure what she expected of him.

“You haven’t done this before, have you?”

He gave a rough laugh. “No. But I can tell you by heart the phone number of about half a dozen great pizza places in California.”

She shook her head and stepped closer to him, stirring the air with the scent of wildflowers, and suddenly he forgot all about being hungry for pizza. Now he was just hungry for her.

“Okay, I’ll walk you through it this time. Next time you come over for Friday night pizza, though, you’re on your own.”

Next time.Whoever would have guessed those two words could hold so much promise? He knew darn well he shouldn’t feel this little kick of anticipation for something so nebulous and uncertain as a next time.

Better to just enjoythismoment. As she said, it wasnowthat mattered. In a few weeks, he and his children would be moving away and Caidy Bowman and this wild attraction to her would be conveniently distant from him.

For now, she was here beside him, her skin unbelievably soft-looking and her hair teasing him with the scent of flowers and springtime.

“Okay, first thing you do is spoon a little sauce on. I like to use the bowl of the big spoon to spread it to the edge of the dough. That’s it. Good.”

He supposed it was fairly ridiculous to feel the same sense of pride in spreading sauce on a pizza dough as he had the first time he helped deliver a difficult foal.

“Now sprinkle as much cheese as you usually like. Perfect. I see you like it gooey.”

She smiled at him and he suddenly wanted to toss the unfinished pizza to the floor, press her up against that counter and kiss her until they were both breathing hard.

“Okay, now put your toppings on. I was planning a pepperoni and olive for the next one but you can be creative. Whatever you think the kids might like.”

“Pepperoni and olive sounds good.” He cleared away the ragged edge to his voice. “My kids always like that.”

She didn’t appear to notice. “The third one can be a little more sophisticated. By then, Destry and her friends—and Ridge, when he’s home—have had their fill.”

Who made three homemade pizzas on a Friday night? Caidy Bowman apparently.

She was a woman of more layers than a supreme pizza and he was enjoying the process of uncovering each one.

“Now your toppings. Don’t skimp on the olives.”

He picked up a stack of pepperoni and dealt them like cards on poker night, then tossed handfuls of olives to the edge of the crust. This was going to be the best damn Friday night pizza she had ever had, he vowed.

---