Page 25 of A Taste of Christmas Magic

That did get a laugh, and she thrilled.

“Gotta keep the generations coming.”

“Have you ever come close to marrying?” Yeah, her mind popped there. “You’d be a great dad. You’re so family oriented. Loyal.”

“No.”

And she’d just killed the synergy they’d been building. She hunched a little. He was back to being an edgy, icy, feral beast, chained and straining.

Always gotta push, Chloe.

The Maye sisters had always said it—kindly, but with exasperation. And their mother. ‘Button your lips,’ had been her favorite along with ‘No one wants to hear your random thoughts.’

“I love biscuits! Big fluffy biscuits dripping with butter and honey,” she sighed happily, picturing them so clearly that her mouth watered.

“I remember.”

Her tummy flipped. He remembered her as a kid running to Millie’s after school for a snack and to do her homework while Rustin was cleaning. But there was always one oven still baking biscuits for the mill workers, and then when the mills were closed, construction workers and others to buy and take home.

What would it take for Rustin to see her as a woman?

“Go for biscuits,” he said, as if she could really do what she wanted. “With pulled pork, you can’t get more North Carolina than that.” He flipped through the book. “There’s a savory biscuit, and you could use the sweeter barbecue sauce here. I have Miss Millie’s smoker. You could hire someone to do the meat the day before and let it marinate in the sauces the day of.”

That made it sound more manageable.

“And if I’m doing pulled pork sandwiches with biscuits, I definitely need slaw. I love slaw,” she said happily, beginning to think that she might not spectacularly fail.

“And I adore hush puppies. Look here, a recipe for crab and shrimp–stuffed hush puppies. Done.” She closed the book and did a little dance.

“No,” he said. “You’re just beginning.”

Rustin stalked over to her kitchen, opened drawers, cabinets, and the fridge.

“Make yourself at home,” she joked weakly.

His disapproval was tangible. “First, shopping.”

Chapter Seven

It was pastnine in the evening before Chloe, energy waning, finally felt she was close to being ready to plate. She just needed to get her biscuits in the oven.

“You haven’t lit the candle.”

OMG. Rustin had to stop. For hours he’d stood in her small kitchen issuing orders in that sexy voice. He took up too much oxygenandher focus. He was like a darn magnet, and her quivering attention was the metal.

“I don’t see why I need to light a lemon-scented candle,” she objected. “For the dinner table, I can understand, but…” She wiped her forearm over her face, her hands sticky with chunks of dough. Flour was in her hair. This was her third attempt at the dough.

And she’d thought the shopping excursion with Rustin this afternoon—he’d taken her to Harris Teeter out of town instead of Food Lion, which was closer and where she usually shopped for her simple needs—was rough. They’d been in the store nearly ninety minutes and had filled two baskets with what Rustin had deemed kitchen essentials. Chloe was still trying to ignore that she’d dropped more on groceries in one afternoon excursion than she’d spent the last two months. And she’d ignored several texts from Jessica, Sarah and Meghan asking if she needed help.

Why had she put all her trust in Rustin and not her cousins?

“Did you massage the dough with the rosemary-infused oil?”

“No, I like butter better,” Chloe asserted. She had to make at least one stand.

“You agreed to follow the recipe exactly.”

“Don’t you dare sayyou need to walk before you can run again,” she warned, trying to scrape dough off her hands again. “Grandma Millie musta said that to me a million times.”

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