Читать книгу The Christmas Wedding Swap - Allyson Charles - Страница 10

Chapter Four

Balancing a three-quart casserole and a jug of orange juice, Allison climbed the steps to her parents’ front porch. She tucked the OJ into her chest, pushed the door open, and stepped into a chaos only two little girls could create.

Her mother looked up from her position on the main staircase, her lips pinched. “Allison, thank God you’re here. I need help.”

A cherub with black curls raced up to Allison, hugging her leg like a boa constrictor. “Auntie Allie! Lookie what Molly did. She ruined Gamma’s dec’rations.”

“I can see that.” Allison lurched to the entry way table, lugging the four-year-old along for the ride. She placed her breakfast casserole and juice down. Prying the little fingers off her leg, she swung her niece onto her hip and hurried to her mother, who was standing guard over six-year-old Molly, a larger version of her little sister, Karen. “What have you gotten up to now, Pooh Bear?”

A tiny tush wiggled at her from the bannister, ropes of fresh pine garland snaking around her small body, pinning her to the handrail.

“What she’s gotten up to,” Allison’s mother said, one hand firmly clasped on Molly’s back while she tugged at the greenery with the other, “is she tried to slide down my bannister and somehow this happened.”

Allison bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Her oldest niece had an unerring talent for getting stuck in the unlikeliest of places. Last Christmas they had found her rear end sticking out of a cast-iron wood-burning stove. She had seen the chimney in her grandparents’ living room and wanted to see if there was enough room for Santa to slide down.

Placing Karen down on the step, Allison stepped forward to help extricate the troublemaker. “Where are Camilla and John? Shouldn’t they be helping to free their daughter?”

“Camilla’s in the kitchen.” Her mother tugged at a branch. “And John is with your father in the family room watching the game. I told Karen to go get her mother, but…” They watched as the little girl crawled around on her knees, barking madly at her reflection in the full-sized entry mirror.

Allison shook her head. “Got it.” While she stretched out the garland, her mother tugged Molly free. Her niece lifted up her shirt and looked at the red marks on her belly. “The plant scratched me.”

“Well, don’t slide into it then,” her mother said, the steady tapping of the toe of her two-inch pump punctuating each word.

Allison recognized the steely-eyed squint her mother was giving Molly and grabbed the girl’s hand. She tugged her down the stairs. “We’ll just be in the kitchen. Why don’t you watch some football, and we’ll call you when brunch is ready?” She plopped the OJ into her niece’s arms and picked up the casserole as if it was a serving tray. With one arm, she herded Molly out of the danger zone. “Let’s go, Karen. You come, too.” Karen slid on her knees behind them.

Allison’s sister, Camilla, sat at the bar in the kitchen, a mug of coffee in front of her as she flipped through a magazine. “Hi, Allison.” She cocked her head and looked at her daughters. Molly tucked her head into Allison’s stomach. “What have you girls been up to? I can always tell when you’re in trouble.” And she could. Something had happened when Camilla had given birth to Molly, turning her sister from oblivious into a trouble detector, at least where her children were concerned. The transformation had been astonishing, and Allison wondered if she’d get the same superpower when she had kids.

If she had kids.

“Pooh Bear just got a little tangled in Grandma’s garland on the stairs.” Allison ruffled Molly’s hair. “No biggie.”

“Uh-huh.” Camilla didn’t look convinced. “And how did you just happen to get tangled in it, Molly? You weren’t by any chance sliding down the bannister after I told you not to?”

Molly burrowed her way against Allison, trying to hide from her mother’s view. Allison shook her head. Her niece was busted. After a squeeze to the shoulder, she untangled the girl from her midsection and walked to the oven. It was already at the right temperature, so she slid in her casserole to heat and joined her sister at the counter.

“How’s work?” Allison asked. “That client still giving you trouble?” Her sister and husband, both attorneys, worked at the same boutique law firm in downtown Clarion Township. On track to make partner, happily married and mother of two, Camilla was the daughter her parents loved to brag about. And living in the same town gave the doting grandparents a lot of access to the little ones.

Camilla rolled her eyes. “I wish I could tell you just what a jerk this guy is, but that would violate confidentiality. There might be a benefit to your still being single. You don’t have to worry about divorce.”

Allison’s heart pinched beneath her breastbone. Bending down, Allison plucked Karen off the ground and settled her over her knees. Allison bounced her legs the way she knew the little girl liked. Her niece neighed, bucking wildly. Allison smiled, wishing she could just take the girls out to brunch. There would be no constant reminder that she was still single, no hurtful remarks. She knew her family didn’t mean their comments as judgment, that they only wanted her to be happy. But knowing that didn’t make it easier to take.

“Sam couldn’t make it?” Allison asked. Samantha Young, her baby sister, lived in Ann Arbor with her husband of two years. Three months into her residency, Sam was extremely busy as a new doctor, and her entire family couldn’t be prouder.

“Patrick had some function with the football team he couldn’t get out of. I think Sam went with him.” Camille shook her head. “For the president of such a small college, they sure keep him running around. But Sam did say she had something to tell us. I’ll bet she got that job with the children’s hospital.”

Karen slapped her thigh and bounced up and down—hard.

Allison grimaced. “You’re getting too big for me to play horsey with. Maybe it’s time you got a real pony.” She tucked a curl behind the girl’s ear.

Eyes huge, Karen wiggled down and ran to her mother. “Can I get a pony, Mommy? Pleeeease.”

Allison smiled. Her niece was just so damn cute.

The look her sister fired at her was the opposite of cute. “That is something your father and I will have to decide, but right now, you’re too little. We can talk about it again in a couple years.”

The oven timer dinged, and like the firing of a starter’s pistol at the beginning of a race, everyone came running. Allison’s father dropped a kiss on her head. “Hi, sweetie,” he said, before grabbing a basket of rolls and muffins and heading for the dining room table. Her brother-in-law greeted her and started gathering up glasses and the orange juice. Her mother and her sister removed pans from the oven, and soon they were all seated at a table laden with more food than seven people could possibly eat.

“Allison, we have news,” her mother said, scooping a pile of eggs onto Karen’s plate.

“We?” Allison asked at the same time her father said, “What news?”

“Your sister and me.” Checking to make sure everyone had something on their plate, her mother ran a hand through her silver page boy. Realizing his wife’s conversation didn’t involve him, her father lowered his head and started shoveling food into his mouth.

Picking a piece of bacon off the floor, Camilla blew on it and replaced it on Molly’s plate. “Mom asked if I knew any single men, and you have a date this Tuesday night.”

“What?” Allison shot her sister an indignant glare. “You can’t set me up without telling me. And that was gross, serving food that fell on the floor.” She didn’t know which side of her was more irritated: her single woman or her restaurant owner. She was used to her mother and sisters trying to set her up, but to actually commit her to a date without her consent was a step too far.

Her sister shrugged. “Five-second rule. And besides, Richard is a great guy. He’s an investment advisor, works in the office next to ours, and he always tips the barista at our local Starbucks very well.”

“Yeah, that’s a great reason to date someone.” Allison poked at her casserole. Actually, it was better than some of the other reasons she’d gone on dates. But that was too pathetic to admit. “And I’m busy.”

“You usually take Tuesdays off,” her mother said, lips pursed.

Damn it. Why had she told her family her schedule? But… “I have Sadie’s wedding to plan and a new cook I have to keep an eye on. Just hired him a week ago.” Not that Luke needed anyone else watching him. The waitresses were practically climbing into his pants. One even thanked Allison for hiring him, saying he was going to be her Christmas bonus. And her two part-time fry cooks had been completely charmed by his easy compliments. Suckers. They had taught Luke the recipes with a patience they never showed their boss.

Because her mother loved Sadie almost as much as Allison did, she ignored the bit about the wedding. Instead, she dug into the meat of their recurring argument. “You spend too much time at your diner. You’ll never meet anyone nice if you’re working there all the time. Don’t you want to get married?”

And there it was. The disappointment. The confusion as to why one of her daughters had fallen short of the dream. Success in her mother’s eyes was measured by a ring on the finger and a white-collar career. Not only was she single, but being the owner of a greasy spoon fell far short of her sisters’ careers of attorney and pediatrician.

But the hell of it was, even knowing how unfair her family’s expectations were, she did want to get married. Have a family. Was it her fault the men she dated just didn’t rev her engines or couldn’t accept that she spent fifteen-hour days at her restaurant?

“I do date,” she reminded her family. “Two weeks ago I went out with an accountant from Marysville.” By the time they’d gotten to dessert, the poor guy had finally realized that Allison was more interested in the accounting software he used than in him.

She beat a rhythm on the table with her fork. She still hadn’t finished transferring all of her data to the new program.

Her mother waved her hand, dismissive. “That online stuff doesn’t count. You need to meet someone the old-fashioned way.”

John looked up from his plate. “Actually, I read that sixty percent of today’s marriages started with an online meeting.” He stabbed his fork at the pile of fluffy eggs on his plate. “This is really good, Allison.”

She gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks. It’s the combination of green chilies and sharp cheddar cheese.” She turned back to her mom and sister. “And I’m still texting with some guys from the dating sites. I’ll probably meet up with some of them.”

“‘Probably’?” Her mother shook her head. “‘Meet up’? This is your problem, Allison. You don’t take your dating life seriously enough.”

“Dating shouldn’t be a job,” Allison grumbled. Sighing, she made a last-ditch effort to ward off the inevitable. “I have to spend a lot of time at The Pantry. Business is doing well.”

Her father gave an encouraging grunt, which she appreciated. She’d take any support for her business she could get.

Her mother folded her hands on her lap. “You didn’t go to two years of culinary school to run a diner.” The disdain was as thick as hollandaise sauce.

“Actually, that’s exactly why I went to culinary school: to own my own restaurant.” Allison took a deep breath and kept her voice calm. The Stuarts didn’t tolerate scenes being made at Sunday brunch. “You just don’t like that my dream restaurant is a diner.”

“I don’t like that my daughter spends all her time working there. There’s more to life than what’s inside your restaurant.” Her mother’s words were reasonable, something Allison had told herself many times before. But the years had taught her there was a subtext behind them. That what her mother really meant was Allison’s choices had been mistakes.

Even when faced with her siblings’ successes, their happy families, Allison could usually brush off the pressure her family put on her to settle down. But that was proving more difficult this year. Whether it was because her own biological clock was ticking like a time bomb or because she was spending a lot of time planning her best friend’s wedding, she didn’t know.

She could argue more—or call up one of the men she’d swiped right on and make her own date. But she was tired of fighting, and she wanted everyone to eat their brunch in peace. Her shoulders slumped. “Tell me more about Richard,” she said, ignoring her sister’s squeal and happy little hand clap.

Who knew? Maybe an investment advisor was just the man for her. Just because he met with her mother’s approval didn’t mean he would be as boring as his job.

And if he was, would that be such a bad thing? Someone steady. Dependable. Looking for a family. Allison was used to spicing things up. If she could dress up broccoli so even her nieces liked it, surely she could do the same thing for a bland man.

* * * *

Allison pushed open the back door to The Pantry and stomped the snow from her shoes. Heat and the aroma of fried chicken wafted over her. Unzipping her coat, she looked around the kitchen. One of her part-time fry cooks was the only person in sight.

“Delilah, where’s Luke?”

The girl lifted an arm with Chinese symbols tattooed around the wrist and pointed to the front. “Place is dead. He’s taking a break.” After shaking the grease from a half-full basket of fries, Delilah slid a handful onto a plate next to a chicken salad sandwich and shoved it toward Allison. “You wanna take this out? It’s counter service.”

Taking the plate, Allison put her back to the swinging kitchen door and stepped into the dining room. It was quiet this time of day, the lull between lunch and dinner. The clink of silverware from the man seated in the corner booth was the only sound she heard over the Muzak. Sadie and Luke sat at the counter, heads together, talking in a murmur. Allison paused, a knot forming in her belly. Her new fry cook and her best friend getting cozy could lead to nothing but trouble.

Allison plastered a smile on her face. “This sandwich for you?” she asked Sadie.

“Thanks.” Sadie pushed her bangs across her forehead. “I’m meeting Colt here later and we’re going over to the Cake Vault for a tasting. Luke was asking about our dinner menu for the wedding.”

Luke placed his elbows on the counter, the soft cotton of his heather-gray Henley stretching tautly across his biceps. “I like the idea of a Cajun butternut squash soup as the first course. It’s a unique pairing combination.”

“That is one of my favorite recipes,” Allison said, cocking a hip against the counter and leaning across Luke to look at the list in front of Sadie. Seeing that nothing new had been added since yesterday, Allison blew out a sigh of relief.

“But I question your decision for the main course.”

Allison stilled. “What’s wrong with my main course?”

He held the rim of his coffee mug with his fingertips, ignoring the handle, and raised it to his mouth. “It’s a bit cliché, isn’t it? Turkey for a Christmas wedding?”

Jerking a kitchen towel off a rack, Allison attacked the water rings left behind from lunch, bussing a plate as she cleaned her way down the counter. “It’s traditional, classic. Besides, Sadie and Colt like turkey.” Hands on hips, she faced her friend. “Don’t you?”

“We like everything you cook.” Colt McCoy strode through the door, unwinding a scarf from his neck. Targeting his bride-to-be, Colt strode to her seat and planted a lingering kiss on her lips. “Missed you, princess.”

“You just saw me three hours ago.” The grin Sadie couldn’t suppress contradicted her rolling eyes.

“Doesn’t matter. I—”

“Guys”—Allison made a T out of her two hands—“please, time out with the PDAs. You’ll make the few customers I have sick. Or worse, give them ideas.” She turned to the corner booth. “Freddie, your wife doesn’t want to see you home this early. Ignore the show.”

The older man took off his stained ball cap and slashed it through the air in her direction like he was swatting a fly. After replacing it, he turned his attention back to his meatloaf and the funny pages.

Sadie flushed. “Sorry.” Crossing her legs, she pointed at Luke. “Colt, this is Luke Hammer, the new cook here. Luke, this is my fiancé, Colt.”

The men shook hands and sized each other up.

Sadie glanced down at her list, clicking the button at the top of her pen. “We were just discussing the food—”

“I heard.” Colt leaned over her shoulder, picked up one of Sadie’s fries, and dragged it through a pool of ketchup. “I thought we were going to let Allison handle that. We both agreed that whatever she made would be wonderful, and it would be one less worry for us.”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts.” He looked at Allison. “Do you have any problems you need us to step in for?”

“Nope,” she said with a sidelong glance at Luke. “I got it all covered. It will be delicious.”

Colt threw some bills on the counter. “So, instead of adding an item to your list that’s already handled, let’s just say, ‘Thank you, Allison,’ and go taste some cake.”

Sadie huffed. “Fine.” She began gathering her things. “Thanks, Allison. We really do appreciate it. Whatever you choose will be great.”

Allison shooed them off. “See you guys later. Make sure to try the white chocolate raspberry cake. It’s awesome.”

The two stood just inside the door as Colt wrapped Sadie’s scarf more snuggly around her neck, Sadie poking him once in the stomach before rolling onto her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. With a burst of cold air, they were gone.

Allison swallowed, trying to clear away the thickness in the back of her throat. She was happy for her friend. She was. But she couldn’t help but think it a little unfair. Sadie had shown up in Pineville and found the man of her dreams within twenty-four hours. Allison had lived here her whole life, and the closest she’d come to finding the man of her dreams was her date with the local butcher last year. He’d taken her ice skating on the pond behind his house. She’d tripped over a fallen branch, hit her head, and been knocked unconscious.

The night had been a nightmare. And the butcher hadn’t called for a second date.

Luke stood, stretching his hands above his head and exposing a strip of bronzed skin between his shirt and the waistband of his jeans. “Cute couple.” He picked up his coffee mug and strolled around the counter. “You’re doing an awful lot of work for a friend’s wedding.”

“That’s what you do for friends,” she said. Luke’s arm brushed her as he walked past, the scent of something sweet and spicy, like cocoa and cardamom, teasing her nose. She licked her bottom lip. “Besides, Colt was about to drag her to Vegas when he found another list of his duties taped to the visor of his truck. I had to step in to save the wedding.”

He leaned against the counter, barely a foot of space between them. Taking a sip of coffee, he gazed at her over the rim of his mug. “Vegas sounds pretty good to me. Would that have been so bad?”

“Not bad.” She cleared her throat. “Not if that’s what they both wanted. But there’s something to be said for a traditional ceremony and reception.”

Luke bussed Sadie’s plate. Taking the towel from Allison’s hand, he wiped the crumbs from Sadie’s meal off the counter. “And you’re big on tradition.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed, and not the pretty, tinkling kind. This was a deep belly laugh, with a few snorts thrown in for good measure. Wiping her eyes, she stepped past Luke. “You would be the only one to think so. I just spent the morning having my family point out just how untraditional my choices are.” She asked over her shoulder, “Can you follow me? We have some housekeeping.”

Opening the door to her office, she stepped over a box of artificial sweeteners and scooted around the small desk. Luke peered into the closet-sized space, his raised eyebrow telling her he wasn’t impressed.

“I have a home office for most of the paperwork,” she muttered before bouncing down on the exercise ball she used as a chair. “Now”—she pulled a folder from the corner of the desk—“I have some questions on these forms you filled out.” She looked down at the W-9 form. “Your handwriting really stinks. I didn’t even know your last name was Hammer until Sadie introduced you to Colt. It looks like you wrote Hamish?” She squinted and turned her head. “Hamster?”

“Yeah.” He blinked rapidly. “Sorry about that. I can try to clean it up for you.”

When he moved forward, she waved him off. “I’ll do it.” She scribbled in the information. “You left the social security number blank and gave the address of your rent-a-cabin on Third.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Luke sent her an aw-shucks grin. The nerve endings in her breasts tingled. But Allison wouldn’t let herself succumb to his charm like all the other saps in The Pantry.

“I’m moving around a lot right now,” he said. “And since this is just a temporary thing until you can find other help, I was hoping”—here his smile really lit up, and Allison knew she wasn’t going to like what he said next—“that we wouldn’t have to worry about the payroll forms. You know, just pay me cash, like you would a contractor.”

“You mean under the table.” Rolling her hips on the ball to loosen her lower back, she stared at him unblinking.

“Uh…yeah. That would be optimal.”

“Let’s cut the bullshit. Do you owe child support? Have a tax lien against you?” Although she could have sympathy for back taxes, she wouldn’t tolerate a delinquent dad. She’d work through the night shorthanded rather than put up with that crap.

“Jesus, no.” He placed his palms on her desk. The cuffs of his Henley were rolled, and the tendons of his forearms bulged. “What kind of man do you think I am?”

She swallowed. Indignation vibrated off him. “I don’t know what kind of man you are. I’ve known you for all of a week.”

“A week and a couple days.” One edge of Luke’s mouth curled up. “You forgot about our introduction on the sidewalk.”

Allison’s face heated. She wished she could forget about that. “Just because you helped me pick up some Jordan almonds doesn’t mean you’re a saint.”

“I may not be a saint, but if I had a kid, I would damn well take care of him.” His nostrils flared, bringing attention to the small bump on the bridge of his nose, the only imperfection in an otherwise flawless face. “Or her.”

Allison sighed. “I believe you.” Rolling the ball back an inch, she rested her shoulders on the wall, the only distance she could gain. Being close to him, smelling his spicy scent, did funny things to her head. “And I’m desperate, as you well know.” She pointed at him with a pen. “For now, I’ll pay you cash at the end of each week. If you stay longer than a month, I’ll need to put you on the payroll.”

“Fair enough.” The tiny muscles at the edges of his eyelids softened. Straightening, Luke crossed his arms over his chest, framing the impressive pecs molded by his soft Henley. “So I have a month in Pineville. How about a truce?”

Allison considered. It hadn’t been Luke’s fault that she’d looked like an idiot at their first meeting. And a month was a long time to snipe with someone in the kitchen. Tentatively, she stretched her arm across the desk. “Truce.”

His big hand enveloped hers. He brushed her thumb with his own. “Great. As the new man in town, I’m going to need some advice on what there is to do. Maybe a guided tour?”

Allison pressed her lips into a firm line, ignoring the flutters in her belly. “That offer expired the first time you said no to it.”

“I didn’t think I’d be in town long enough to enjoy all Pineville had to offer that day we met.” Luke pulled on her hand, slowly reeling her closer.

Just because she was burying the hatchet didn’t mean she had to buy his bull. She tugged her hand free. “Cool your jets, hot shot. This is purely a business relationship.”

“This is a small-town diner. Your stock isn’t going to drop if you have a bit of fun with your newest employee.” His eyes raked her body, taking in every curve.

She swallowed and rose to her feet. Staying seated while he stared down at her looking like he wanted to…well, eat her up, wasn’t a strong authority position. Since this man now worked for her, he was off-limits. Her stomach quivered.

No. No, making him the forbidden fruit. He might be sexy, but he was also an arrogant know-it-all. At this stage in her life, she wanted someone she could settle down with, not tear up the sheets. She thrust her shoulders back, realizing too late it could look like she was shoving her D cups in his face. Fighting the heat crawling up her neck, she said, “If you want a tour, my advice would be to visit the tourist bureau. They have information on the sights to see. The holidays are a busy season for me, more so with Sadie’s wedding. I don’t have time for anything else. Got it?”

He nodded slowly, but Allison didn’t believe him. The tilt to his full lips was impish, as if she was a challenge he couldn’t wait to take on. The moment he spoke, she knew she was right. “I get it. You own a restaurant; you’re busy.” Sauntering to the door, he waited until he was just outside before hitting her with his parting shot.

“But a month is a long time. You won’t always be busy. And I’ll be waiting.”