Page 35 of A Taste of Christmas Magic

Jessica pressed her lips together, and her eyes glittered. “You shame me Chloe.”

“No shame Jessie.” Chloe hugged Jessica. “But please don’t hold his past against him,” Chloe pleaded. “Don’t hold his family’s reputation against him. We’re all carving out our hopes and dreams and building our futures one brick at a time. Don’t make Rustin carry baggage that is not his.”

“I’ll try, Clo. I will.” Jessica hugged her back hard. “There’s a reason you won teacher of the year, Chloe. You really are a shining light and are coming into your own. Ready? Or I’ll ruin my makeup.”

“Yes.” Chloe bounced to her toes.

“It’s beyond cold,” Jessica shivered in her long, emerald-green wool coat. “I know you like to walk everywhere downtown and considering what we’re likely going to be snacking on and drinking, I, too, should walk, but I’ve been on my feet all day, and I’m driving us to Millie’s.”

“The Wild Side,” Chloe corrected as Jessica opened the side door to walk out through Grandma Millie’s kitchen and herb garden. She stopped abruptly and Chloe crashed into her, inhaling her lovely jasmine scent.

“Just don’t take his restaurant’s name to heart, Chloe. You don’t want to walk, run, or stroll down any path with Rustin Wildish.”

“How aboutsaunter? Orskulk?Skip? Sashay?”

“Every woman needs a sister who’s a thesaurus. Seriously, Chloe, I know you want tokumbayaRustin’s return to Belmont, but just steer clear of him. He’s…”—Chloe swore Jessica murmuredpotentunder her breath—“dangerous,” Jessica ended.

Chloe followed Jessica to her car, pondering the advice. Why? Jessica had never advised her romantically, not that there’d been much opportunity. She’d been a choir, musical theater, and orchestra geek in high school. And doubling a classical voice major with an English major hadn’t upped her romantic opportunities.

But what if…?

The wordpouncecame to mind.

Chapter Nine

Weird. There wasno other word for it. Rustin Wildish felt weird. Instead of his usual tunnel-vision calm, he was keyed up and felt out of his body.

So many people wanted to talk to him. People he remembered. People he didn’t know. Most of it was about The Wild Side. When he was opening. The food. The themes. Rebekah had created marketing materials and a menu vision board. And so many questions, the main one being how he had convinced Miss Millie Maye, a Belmont institution, to sell the second-generation diner.

It had been an act of hubris, announcing at barely seventeen when she’d dropped him off at the bus station to head to Atlanta and a top culinary institute, on her dime, that he’d come back someday and buy Millie’s.

She’d shaken his hand firmly.

“Bold words, Rustin, mean nothing. Hard work. Intention. Action. Follow through. Those need to be the words on the pavers of your road to success.”

Rustin now looked around at how he’d changed the space to reflect what he wanted. Would Miss Millie think, as so many had claimed tonight, that he’darrived?

The Wild Side wasn’t officially open, but people returned for a signature coffee or cocktail to complete their Movable Feast evening. Guests lingered on the deck with the party lights and heat lamps merrily blazing, or they’d ventured to the second-level loft-style bar to watch the crowd below.

Rustin had hired a DJ, a friend of Lucas’s, who made and sold beats with him. He was mixing up holiday classics with sick beats that should have given Rustin a splitting headache, but instead, the music fit the vibe of the party and space, and he was starting to feel the suspicious tug of something that might be interpreted as holiday spirit.

Lucas had arrived a few minutes ago and joined the DJ. It felt good, solid, to see his brother so happy, relaxing and doing something he loved after working hard all day. But his attention kept tugging to the deck door, waiting for her: Chloe.

He didn’t imagine any of the Maye sisters would come, and he didn’t care, but Chloe would definitely come. And he felt like he was crawling out of his skin to see her, talk to her, to find out how tonight had gone for her.

She’d practically become a fixture in his life this week, arriving after school or her private voice lessons to help put the finishing touches on The Wild Side. And he found her more enchanting every day, like he was spellbound. He’d resisted at first. Dismissed the tug of attraction. Then he’d tried to intellectualize it away. He was tired. Wound up. Hadn’t been with a woman in over six months as all of his energy had been focused on gaining awards as a chef and hustling funding for his own restaurant.

I can ignore the attraction, think of it as a low-grade headache.

And then she walked in, and Rustin felt the air whoosh from his body like the building had exploded and he’d been propelled thirty feet in the air and splatted on the ground. He felt slightly dizzy, disoriented, and unable to look away. She entered with Jessica, but all he could see was Chloe, shrugging off her red wool coat and hanging in on a hook in the entry. Her bright eyes searched the room, and she smiled as she tucked her mittens in her coat and unwound a brightly knit long scarf from her slender throat. She wore ivory flowing pants and an ivory and gold flimsy tank that made her look more delicate, more magical than usual. Her dark curls glistened in the light with the beginnings of a rain shower.

And then she looked up and saw him.

Play it cool. Acknowledge her but talk to someone else.

But as if preprogrammed, Rustin muttered an excuse to the group that had gathered around him in the loft area to discuss the restaurant’s architecture and use of reclaimed wood and industrial detritus—whatever that was—as part of the design to create a sense of place. He practically soared down the distressed metal stairs, his entire focus missile-honed on Chloe.

As he hit the first floor, the people arriving, moving toward the buffet, or getting a drink parted as if they were actors hitting their cue. It was then he noticed Jessica, a speculative look on her face, standing next to Chloe. He hesitated.

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