Page 13 of A Taste of Christmas Magic

Once he’d found his calling in the kitchen, that accusation had never once been hurled. Since he was seventeen, he’d been hot-shotting it in kitchens in major cities and interning under chefs at the top of their games. No one once said he was cautious…until today.

“Yes, Chef,” Clara said. “I’ve been working on some holiday cocktails and mocktails.”

Holiday. Of course the team would think that. Rebekah had probably been pushing behind his back before she went public today.

“Make it,” he said. “We’ll meet at the community table in five. You ready?” he asked Clara. “Samples only. I don’t want anyone staggering around when we’re on the clock.”

“Yes, Chef.” She smiled and looked at Lucas. “You want to learn something?”

Lucas shot a pleading look at his brother. He was twenty-two, no longer the kid Rustin remembered protecting, feeding, helping with his homework. And if he wanted to learn more about bartending, Rustin should let him, but alcohol and his family tree had a long-twisted history. But if you could control it, it was a moneymaker and a reputation-builder.

“The devil you know.” He slapped Lucas on the back.

Now to Rebekah.

But when Rustin walked out to the deck, Chloe, her short, dark curls dancing in the weak morning sun, faced off with Rebekah. The scene was almost humorous if the tension hadn’t shimmered between them. Chloe held some sort of covered platter in her hands.

“What about private don’t you get, little girl?” Rebekah sneered.

“Rustin and I know each other.” Chloe tilted up her pointed chin, but still stood nearly a foot shorter than the tall, slim Rebekah in her platform Docs. “We grew up together. He worked at Millie’s, and I…” Chloe flushed a pretty pink. “My Grandma Millie was…you know…”

“Queen Bee around here. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ve heard.” Rebekah looked Chloe up and down. “Suppose you think that makes you Mini Queen Bee Millie. What you got, a casserole to welcome us to the neighborhood?”

He could practically taste Rebekah’s sarcasm, and an unexpected and unwelcome urge to come between the two women rose up. But why? Chloe was a Maye. He owed her nothing. And why the hell was she bringing him food? She wasn’t still looking for advice, was she? He’d shut her down hard last night.

“No. I have a question,” she said, proving she had steel in her spine. “I’m coordinating the Movable Feast this year, and I…”

Damn.Rustin closed his eyes, but he could feel Rebekah’s searing stare across the deck.

“The Movable Feast, huh?” Rebekah challenged.

“I’m in charge of an entrée and—”

“Let’s take this inside,” Rustin interrupted, knowing he had to push himself off the fence he’d been straddling.

Distaste and shame were a potent brew. He was in charge of his destiny, but he was letting his childhood doubt take a bite out of his ass. Time to squash the past underfoot for good.

“We’re doing a tasting,” he said, eyes on Chloe. “You can join us.”

“And tell us about this Moveable Feast.” Rebekah’s voice was dark with intent. Using her lanky body, she steered Chloe toward the open door.

*

“You,” Rustin saidin a sexy growl, “in here.”

“Thank you for seeing me.” She followed him into the kitchen. Her heart still pounded from running into the Goth, supermodel, Amazon warrior outside. Since Rustin had taken her key, she’d no way into Millie’s, so she thought she’d try the back door. She didn’t recognize the hard but gorgeous blonde from Millie’s kitchen staff, so Rustin must be making a lot of changes. Many of Millie’s employees were well into their retirement years.

She should have changed her clothes before coming. Sweet potato stained her white shirt; flour dusted her black skinny jeans; and it felt like there was still browned cumin in her hair. She’d thrown on a large purple cardigan she’d found at a thrift shop in college and rushed off to beg Rustin to try her sweet potato empanadas.

He picked some cilantro from her hair and threw it in the sink.

“Have you been cooking or in a food fight?”

“I know, right?” She smiled, relaxing a little since he’d let her inside his new domain.

“I’m working, Clo Beau.”

She gulped in a breath for courage and patience and let the nickname go. “I know. And I’m sorry for interrupting, Rustin, I am. But I took your advice.”

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