Page 21 of A Taste of Christmas Magic

“A chef!” Chloe answered swiftly.

“A thief!” Jessica countered.

Rustin stared at Jessica’s beautiful features: so angry, so disdainful, so like a Maye. Beautiful. Entitled. Dismissive. And he felt…nothing.

Not true. He felt like he was floating free from his once-obsessive love like it was a bad dream. He was no longer that desperate boy.

“I’ve stolen nothing. Ever,” he said, not even angry at the accusation. She had no power to hurt him anymore.

“I’ve worked since I was twelve. I know you can’t say the same, Jessica.”

I can even say her name without choking!

“You think my childhood poverty and the violence I had to protect myself and my siblings from is a permanent stain on my soul whereas you are pure. But not from where I’m standing, Jessica Maye. Miss Millie offered to sell me Millie’s. I bought it. It’s mine. I remodeled it with my money, my team, and a friend’s construction crew, which I paid for along with all the supplies.”

Jessica swayed, and he wondered if he’d have to catch her like some dashing hero in a book. And would Miss Millie forgive him if he let her fall on her face?

“Your daddy can make up all the lies he wants about me. Doesn’t make them true.”

And then, because he was on a roll and feeling rather empowered with hisI’m the boss of mepersona, he slanted a look at Chloe, who stood on her toes as if trying to see something just out of reach.

Miss Millie’s words came back—it felt like a premonition—Chloe needed help, but she could somehow help him as well.

Miss Millie had saved him—at least he’d thought so—but she’d always told him that he had saved himself by taking her offer, working hard, and dreaming big.

“I’m home for good,” he informed Jessica. “Deal or don’t. Your opinion means less than nothing to me.” And then, because he could be contrary even in the same five minutes, he turned his attention to Chloe.

“You ready to roll, Chloe?”

Her shocked blue and purple gaze bounced between him and Jessica and back again. Her lips pursed as if to ask where, yet no sound came out.

“You were going to show me the recipe book you found,” he prompted.

“What book?” Jessica demanded.

Chloe focused her attention on him, and Rustin felt something inside of him shift. He hadn’t even been aware that he’d cared one way or the other if she said yes.

“Ready to roll, Rustin.” And Chloe Maye Cramer followed him out the door.

Chapter Six

“Wow.” Chloe turnedfull circle as if looking at her carriage house apartment for the very first time. The furnishings were from Grandma Millie, all antiques pulled out of storage and refinished and reupholstered. It was clean, but not totally tidy. She had papers to grade organized on the dining room table, several open books strewn on different sitting places, and the kitchen… Well, the kitchen looked like hurricane Chloe had blown through, and the eye and back end of the storm had passed, but the debris had never been cleaned up.

She did a little happy hop and then tried to cover it up by pretending she’d tripped, which made everything more awkward.

“Rustin Wildish is in my apartment!”

“Want an autograph?” He tossed his leather jacket on her coat stand.

He was being facetious. He must be, but she couldn’t read his arresting, hard-planed face. He looked more like a man out of time. Tall, dark, edgy, cut, impatient. A rogue…more like a pirate instead of a refined, talented chef opening a restaurant.

“Some chefs are celebrities, so I probably should get your scrawl before there’s a long line of fan boys and girls. Have you been practicing?”

“Show me the cookbook, Chloe.”

“It’s not really a cookbook,” she stammered, hoping she hadn’t made the book sound epic as if it belonged in a museum. “It’s kind of…um…weird.” She couldn’t quite get over that Rustin was in her apartment and going to cook with her. This was a dream come true, yet she was hesitating like she was going to share her poetry or song scribbles in her journal.

God, the thought of sitting with Rustin, sharing…

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