Page 32 of A Taste of Christmas Magic

“Queen,” she lobbed back, enjoying herself. “I should be terrified, but I feel excited and energized. That’s you, Rustin. That’s all you,” she admitted, meaning it.

“Chloe, it’s you,” he said softly. “I showed you a path, but you walked it. You chose your theme and recipes and put in the work.”

“It was us together,” she breathed as his praise washed over her. “I’m nervous about the sage leaves,” she admitted. “I’m doing them last like you said, less chance of distraction, but…” She worried her bottom lip and confessed, “I should probably have a shock collar to keep me at the stove. I always wander off thinking I have time and suddenly the fire alarm’s blaring and everything smells charred.”

“You’ve made the sage leaves successfully before. But there is a trick to it.”

“Timing, and don’t leave the stove,” she repeated.

“Again.”

“Stay at my post. Use the stopwatch.”

“By the time you’re flash-frying your sage leaves, everything else will be ready. You’ll have Lucas in here, your plating crew, your serving crew. You’ve given them their job assignments, so all you need to do is put the final…” He kissed his fingertips and spread them, and she stared at his mouth like it was magnetized, “flourish.”

Impulsively, Chloe laid her hand over Rustin’s that was still, unbelievably, holding hers.

“I’ll remember,” she said softly.

“And believe in yourself.”

She’d been working on her skills and confidence. The other ladies of Belmont might not be cowed by her like they were Grandma Millie, but Chloe didn’t want to intimidate. She wanted to collaborate. Win-win. Respect and friendship. Comradery. Teamwork. Everyone pulling together for the good of Belmont and its citizens. She wanted to do good, not necessarily put her own mark on something or dominate anyone.

“Hey, Chloe.” Jessica breezed in the side door to Grandma Millie’s kitchen. “The smoker’s really making me and everyone in the neighborhood drooly with hunger. Sorry, I’m a bit late. Mom was pitching a fit that I wasn’t going to stay and help at the house, even though I told her weeks ago I was helping you and Grandma Millie. Meghan and Sarah wanted to come here to help, but I foisted them off on Mom. Still,” she smiled slyly, her green cat eyes lit up with humor, “expect a hurricane Elizabeth Katherine tonight.”

As she spoke, Jessica slipped out of her coat, hung it up on a hook, and took a folded apron from a drawer. “Reporting for duty. Put me to work.” Jessica tied on her apron and twisted her thick, flowing strawberry-blonde hair into a low bun. “Ready and willing.”

She turned around, smiling, and Chloe felt an odd sense of guilt flash through her when Jessica’s sharp gaze drilled onto her and Rustin’s joined hands.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be able to help,” Chloe confessed, happiness swamping with Jessica’s support.

Jessica raised a brow. “Clearly.”

Jessica continued to look at them like a cat waiting for the mouse to feel safe enough to come out of its hidey hole.

Rustin’s still holding my hand.

Usually, Chloe was the one noticing a smitten man in Jessica’s orbit.

Rustin’s not smitten.

But could he be? Chloe felt defiant, unable to let the idea go. She notched her chin at her sister, daring her to say something.

“Hard to cook with no hands, Chloe,” Jessica teased.

“You good Clo-Beau?” Rustin asked, and the tenor of his voice felt like a caress.

“Never better,” she whispered wanting to convey so much with a few words.

“I’ll see you at the after-party, Rustin.” And if that wasn’t a planted flag, what was?

*

“Hiding, Rustin?”

“No.”

Yes.

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