Page 28 of A Taste of Christmas Magic

He inhaled the lemony fragrance of the candle. Lemon verbena. He would forever associate that scent with Chloe. What was happening? Was it magic? Witchcraft? He’d heard a few rumors and cutting comments about Chloe growing up, but since he’d resented the hell out of being a topic of gossip, he’d mostly ignored it.

“What have you done to me?”

“Huh?” Chloe asked around a bite of the popper. “You don’t like…?” She reached for one of the hush puppies. “Try the hush puppy, Rustin. They might be my favorite.”

But Rustin felt unraveled, as though he’d been a wrapped package, but now all the trimmings were stripped off, leaving him exposed. Brand new.

He stumbled to his feet on wobbly legs.

What was happening? She hadn’t drugged the food. She wouldn’t. He’d watched every step.

“You did something.”

“Yeah, I cooked. I did everything the book said. You insisted.”

“No, it’s wrong. Out of this world. Delicious.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

Blindly he rushed for the door, stumbled down the stairs, and ran into the night. Gulping in air like a beached fish, he ran through the park, crossed Central, and ran to the river, thinking an icy dunk would somehow break the spell that had enveloped him. He ran and ran, even as every cell in his body screamed at him to turn around. Return to Chloe and her oddly old-fashioned apartment.

Panic screamed through him. He’d once given his heart to a Maye. Jessica had kicked it. Despised it. Mocked it. No way would he give another woman a chance to take a shot, especially not a Maye.

He felt like his chest was being crushed, but he fought back, harnessing his will that shoved him through tough spots. Rustin had grown up hard. Tough. He was a survivor. Chloe Maye Cramer would have no hold over him. Not ever.

*

Chloe should beexhausted. After Rustin had run out last night—embarrassingly not the only date that had ended with a man making a hasty exit—without an excuse, she’d wanted to run after him because she’d been worried. Had he had an allergy attack? Choked? But as she’d watched him fly across the park, she knew he was fine. Besides, following him would have felt stalkerish. She had done enough of that as a kid.

She had forced herself to stay put for once. Rustin knew all the ingredients. He’d been militant about every step in the preparation and cooking process. And he hadn’t indicated any concerns.

Instead, she cleaned her kitchen, stored all the food, and read through more of the book, putting sticky notes by recipes she thought might work. This afternoon, she’d rushed home from teaching, intending to check on Rustin and run the new recipe ideas by him. The fried sage leaves intrigued her, and yet she worried. Was that skill set too high a bar for her to hurdle?

“You’re busy.”

“Grandma Millie.” Chloe pulled up short as she headed out her front door.

“You’ve been cooking?” Grandma Millie sniffed the air delicately. “Nothing smells charred.”

“Ha. Ha. I followed a recipe. Like really followed it. Detail by detail.”

“No cowgirling up?”

Chloe laughed. She’d forgotten that Grandma Millie used to tease her about being a cowgirl in a past life because she’d been so independent and spirited and fiercely willing to strike out on her own and follow an idea, though never with a plan.

“Not a singleyeehaw. Rustin supervised and made me start over and over if I deviated. I even had to light a lemon-scented candle and let him take the first bite because he was the big man.”

“Oh my.” Grandma Millie hid a smile. “That sounds very diligent. What did Rustin think? He’s a tough critic but fair.”

“No idea,” she said, still troubled. “I thought he liked it, but after he offered me a bite, he got this weirdly intense look on his face like I was a stranger and accused me of doing something to him. Then he stood up all wobbly and took off at a run. I think maybe he’d OD’d on me by that time. We shopped together, as he’d found my kitchen utterly lacking, and then he had me make the sauce and get the pork cooking in the Crock-Pot, and he came back last night and watched me do the whole thing. He didn’t help one bit.”

Chloe waited for Grandma Millie to say something wise.

Instead, she seemed to be choosing and rejecting several replies. Chloe was puzzled because Grandma Millie was never at a loss for words.

“A fine way to teach,” she finally said. “What cookbook did you use?”

“I found one in your mini library. It’s…unusual. I was thinking about roots, Belmont and North Carolina roots. Rustin was all in on the idea, and when he saw the book, he agreed to help me if I let him look through it, take some inspiration. It only seemed fair to agree. I need the help, and I know he’s busy and not a Chloe fan.”

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