Page 31 of A Taste of Christmas Magic

The week had felt imbued with luminous magic where she and Rustin were enveloped in a silver-gold bubble. It was like her childhood fantasies had come true but with an adult edge. She found herself trying to find excuses to touch him, to make him smile. And she’d started to dream that even after the feast they would spend time together.

She particularly loved the Santa tree that she’d put together with Lucas after Rustin had flat-out refused. Chloe had collected broken branches from Cramer Mountain’s woods after a late fall storm. She’d thought to paint them white and add small LED lights, but Rustin, after looking at the project and his brother’s enthusiasm, had found a touch of Christmas spirit.

“Spray-paint them black. More The Wild Side vibe.”

Of course it was. She hadn’t seen Rustin wear anything else, but then she only had really seen him cooking.

Maybe black is a kind of uniform?

“We can get red pots with black river rocks and ‘plant’ them in the entrance for a statement. Sophisticated but edgy holiday,” she’d conceded.

“Make it so.”

“Aye, aye, Captain Picard,” Chloe saluted, thrilled that Rustin likedStar Trek Next Generation. She’d loved streaming the reruns of the show during slow weekends at college.

“Huh?” Rustin deadpanned, but as he walked away, she’d seen the hint of a smile.

“He and I used to stream the shows late at night to fall asleep after a busy night in the kitchen,” Lucas had outted his brother. “Rustin would work out on the home gym he’d set up and watch. We’d have push-up contests while Jean Luc was saving the universe.”

Cosmic. Rustin Wildish is perfect.

Chloe found herself feeling protective of Lucas, like he was a little brother. She’d been a student teacher when Lucas was in her class a few years ago. He’d been an indifferent student in English, but an outstanding athlete, so she’d held tutoring sessions after school for many of the athletes struggling to keep their GPAs up. Lucas had been unfailingly polite but insecure about his writing.

He still seemed insecure, always looking to big brother Rustin for approval and instruction.

Kind of like me.

That realization had slapped her upside the head, and she made a promise to herself that she would start taking herself and her ideas more seriously.

“Starting today.” Chloe dragged her mind away from her memories and spoke aloud so she’d hear the words. Own them.

“Time to grow up, Chloe. Claim your power,” she added.

She needed to stay in the present because soon her volunteers, many of them college and high school students, would arrive ready for her to dole out directions. She needed them for everything from placing the rented holiday-themed linens on the rented bistro tables scattered in several of Grandma Millie’s mansion’s living spaces and garden to learning how to plate and serve the main course, and also how to keep circulating and checking on guests, clearing away service items, and monitoring the outdoor heat lamps’ need for new propane tanks.

Panic momentarily coated her throat.

“How’s it going? Is Lucas holding up his end?”

“Rustin.” And just like that, the afternoon felt sunnier, warmer, as if defying the impending winter. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be crazy busy at The Wild Side. Youraperitifandamuse-bouche.”

She loved saying those words together. They sounded so sophisticated, like she traveled Europe regularly instead of taking whirlwind tours with Grandma Millie through France and Italy when she’d graduated high school and college, respectively.

“And then the surprisemignardiseto finish with coffee or your homemade punch. I figured you’d be all decked out in your chef clothes, bossing everyone around.”

He looked so handsome in his black T-shirt, leather jacket, jeans, and motorcycle boots that even had a chain detail that added a sexy and dangerous vibe. She had a million things to do today and her own crew arriving soon, but nothing and no one felt more important than stopping everything to just savor Rustin.

“Perhaps I’ve come to boss you.” His hint of a smile nearly melted her.

“Don’t tempt me to lose my focus, Chef.” She put down her knife and wagged a finger at him. “It was a crash course, but you’ve trained me well, Chef. I got this.”

“I know,” he said, and for a split second, he looked almost bashful. “I just feel like Miss Millie thrust you into the deep end, and the hand I offered kept you swimming but didn’t help you out of the pool so you’re warm and dry.”

“Good analogy.” She poked a finger at him and was shocked when he grabbed it. Held it. The touch was like every middle school and high school fantasy she’d ever harbored.

“But by making me do everything on my own over and over, I did gain some confidence, and Lucas has been handling the smoker, and he’ll bake the bacon. I have the tilapia already cooked and seasoned, and I mixed the pimento cheese last night for the jalapeño poppers, and my biscuit dough is chilling. I’ll take it out in an hour,” she said breathlessly. “And this morning I made my hush puppy batter. ‘Prep is queen,’” she quoted.

“King.”

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