Читать книгу Christmas Wishes & Mistletoe Kisses - Susan Meier - Страница 12

DREW shrugged into his coat and headed out the door. Gwen had insisted he take Brody’s sandwich with him, so he had it in a little plastic bag and felt like a kid on his way to his first day of school.

He found Brody leaning against the SUV. “Here.”

He looked at the sandwich, then looked at his dad. “I’m not hungry.”

Max Peabody appeared around the other side of the SUV. With his snow-white hair and beard, and rosy-red cheeks, he looked a bit like Santa Claus in jeans.

“You better eat that sandwich, boy! Harvesting Christmas trees will work up a powerful appetite.”

Drew nearly groaned in anticipation of the myriad smart remarks Brody would make. But instead, Brody snatched the little baggie from Drew’s hand and took out the sandwich.

“Okay. I’m glad that’s settled.” Max looked around with pleasure at the trees around them. “Like I said on the phone, we can open Saturday after next, but we’ll need time to get the place ready. There are tons of old tree branches and debris in the rows between the trees.” He winked at Drew. “Don’t want a lawsuit because someone trips over a branch.”

He glanced around again. “Then we’ll need a few days to cut some trees for people who don’t want to go out in the field. Which actually works out pretty well, because while we’re harvesting I can teach you guys how to cut trees so that you can go out with the customers who want to choose their own.” He pointed at a rundown outbuilding. “There’s a little stand stored in there. We used it as a checkout table where my wife Sunny used to take the money from customers.” He sent his gaze back to Drew. “But if you’re trying to impress somebody, we’re probably going to have to spruce up these old outbuildings. It’s too cold and wet to paint them, but it wouldn’t hurt to replace the missing boards.”

Brody glanced fearfully at Drew. Drew tried his damnedest to smile. He saw himself putting in eight-hour days on the farm and then eight hours in the office at night. And all of this was Gwen’s fault.

The second he thought of her his blood heated. She held her ground with him like no one else in his world had ever even tried. And she was cute about it. Her nose wrinkled. Her eyes sparked with fire. He couldn’t even imagine what kind of liberties she’d take with him if he wasn’t her boss and she spoke freely.

His heart-rate spiked and the temperature of his blood rose another degree or two. He didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. Thinking about her might be a way to keep from freezing to death while lugging trees in this frozen tundra of a farm. But thinking about her all afternoon while he tromped around might make it a little harder to be a good, objective boss when he came back inside to work at night.

Because they would be working together at night.

That would be her punishment for coming up with this hare-brained scheme. Opening the Christmas tree farm might have been his idea, but his sharing the labor had been hers. So she would suffer right along with him.

Gwen watched out the kitchen window as Max waved his hands around in the general direction of the vast expanse of trees beyond them. She saw Brody eating the sandwich she’d sent out and sighed with relief. But her sigh was short-lived when she saw Drew cast a narrow-eyed look in the direction of the house.

She dropped the curtain and jumped back from the window. Oh, he was going to make her pay for this.

Deciding the best defense was a good offense, Gwen took the roast she’d bought when she was at the grocery store the day before, cut it into cubes, and began preparing a hearty stew. She peeled potatoes and carrots, browned the meat, and made a rich gravy. When everything was on the burner to simmer, a thought occurred to her, and she went in search of the things she’d need to make homemade dinner rolls.

Once the dough was rising, she decided to also make homemade muffins. It was one of the skills her mom had taught her. She and Gill loved muffins, so at a very young age Ginger had shown her girls how to make their own.

By the time Drew and Brody stomped into the house five hours later the stew bubbled on the stove, fresh dinner rolls sat in a basket and the sweet scent of pumpkin muffins permeated the air.

Drew dropped his gloves on the counter and sniffed. “This has to be heaven.”

“Anywhere would be heaven compared to that damn field.”

Drew bit back a sigh. Brody hadn’t really complained all day, for which Drew thanked God, but now that they were away from Max his son was back to saying damn and would probably be snotty for the rest of the night.

Deciding that ignoring Brody might be the thing to do, he focused on the obvious. “Everything smells great.” Because that was the absolute truth, he closed his eyes in ecstasy. “I only hope I have the strength to eat it.”

Brody snorted a laugh and headed for the swinging door. “I want to clean up.”

When he was gone, Drew caught Gwen’s gaze. All day long he’d thought about ways he’d punish her for her idea, but now that he had her alone, in a kitchen that smelled so good he could have eaten the table, he was suddenly tongue-tied.

“These are just a few things my mom taught me to make.”

“Your mom must be an excellent cook.”

“She was.”

“Was?”

“She passed away. It was a year last September.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged and grabbed plates from the cupboard. “It’s okay. Gill and I have each other.”

Feeling awkward about having her wait on him, Drew headed for the silverware drawer. “Gill is your sister?”

“Twin sister.”

He stopped. Smiled stupidly. “You’re a twin?”

“It doesn’t make me a freak.”

“No. I think it’s kind of cute.” He did. Damn it. Everything he heard about her made her special. And she’d fixed them dinner. She hadn’t rested on her laurels while he was outside. She’d done the thing that most needed to be done: she’d made food, probably recognizing that they’d be starving.

They ate dinner in near silence. Not because they were tiptoeing around each other, but because the men didn’t pause long enough between bites of food to converse. After he’d eaten Brody excused himself. Drew knew he was going upstairs to bed. He didn’t stop him. Drew would have liked to drop into a warm bed himself right now. But everything he’d neglected while learning to cut and prune Christmas trees now had to be addressed.

“You do know we’ll have to work tonight, right?”

She nodded. “Yes.” She caught his gaze. “You do know that I’ll have to have Claire in the office in her swing, right?”

“Yes.”

“So we’re set?”

He couldn’t help it. He smiled at her. She didn’t leave anything to chance, but more than that she negotiated with him like an equal. She wasn’t afraid of anything. Not even him. She had so much spunk and intelligence that if she didn’t live so far away from North Carolina he’d probably hire her for his corporate office.

Of course then he’d have to deal with being attracted to her and not being allowed to kiss her or touch her or sleep with her—

Sleep with her? Oh, Lord. Why had he let that thought form? The vision of having her warm and naked beside him shot an arrow of arousal through him. The images in his brain weren’t just crystal-clear, they came with feelings that rumbled through him. Feelings. His attraction was morphing into something he didn’t dare even name—because he didn’t want it and neither should she.

He bounced from his seat. “Let’s get to work.”

They worked until ten. At ten, tired from his manual labor, Drew ran his hand down his face and said, “That’s it. I’m done for the night.”

She collapsed on her desk. “I’m so glad you said that.”

He laughed. “Go home.”

She immediately rose. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

With that she left the room, and Drew chuckled again then caught himself. He liked her too much. Everything about her. He wasn’t just attracted to her because she was gorgeous. She had given him good advice about Brody, had cooked a great supper, and hadn’t complained when he’d told her she’d have to work late.

He rose from the desk and ambled into the kitchen, where he grabbed one of her homemade muffins and groaned in ecstasy when he bit into it. She really was too good to be true. And too young for him. He had to remember that. She was young and smart and had her whole life in front of her. What the hell would she want with a guy twelve years older than she was?

After finishing his muffin, he headed down the hall to the foyer stairs. Unfortunately, when he rounded the corner, he nearly bumped into Gwen. He skidded to a stop. So did she.

“Sorry,” automatically came out of his mouth, then his gaze collided with her baby carrier and he took a step back. “I forgot all about Claire. I thought you said she’d have to be in the office with us?”

She shrugged. “She was asleep when I got done with the kitchen so I let her sleep on.” She laughed lightly. “I told you she was a good baby.”

“Yes.” But it was cold outside. Bitter cold. And not only had Gwen bundled herself to go home, but she’d had to bundle her baby. Now she’d drive fifteen or twenty minutes in the cold to get into town and to her house.

The urge to tell her to stay the night rose up in him like a tsunami. But when he met the gaze of her pretty green eyes his stomach plummeted. Damn, she was gorgeous. And he was attracted to her. If he asked her to stay, she might take it the wrong way. Worse, she might take it the right way and agree that sleeping at his house was smarter and safer. Then he’d probably lie in his bed thinking about how she was downstairs. How he was attracted to her and how he couldn’t have her. And he wouldn’t get any sleep.

Reminding himself that the roads were safe and she was a West Virginia girl, accustomed to driving in the snow, he reached for the doorknob and opened the door for her. “See you tomorrow.”

She smiled her beautiful smile at him. “See you tomorrow.”

She walked out into the cold, and as he watched her go he noticed the little puff of smoke coming from the exhaust pipe of her car. She’d already started it. At least he didn’t have to worry about her and the baby being cold on the drive down.

When she was gone, he sucked in a breath.

It had been one hell of a two days. First he couldn’t deal with Brody. Then he was attracted to the woman he’d hired to be his assistant, and if that wasn’t bad enough she had a baby. Then he had to do manual labor to make his son feel he wasn’t a slave. And now he couldn’t even do the kindness of letting his secretary and her baby stay at his house because he was worried about his attraction to her.

Somehow, some way, he had to get control of something.

Gwen had breakfast ready when Brody and Drew woke up the next morning. She’d warmed the pumpkin muffins in the oven and made fresh coffee, eggs and bacon. She knew the scent of it greeted them as they pushed inside through the swinging door.

“I’m famished,” Brody said without preamble.

Drew’s gaze met hers. “Me, too.”

She smiled to hide the shiver that raced through her. From the way he’d looked at her the night before when she left, she knew that he might be hungry for food, but he also felt something for her. Probably the same crazy thing that rose up in her every time she looked at him.

But she’d already sorted this out in her head. He was too old for her. He came from a different world than she did. A world she probably wouldn’t fit in because she loved her small town. Plus, she had a baby. He didn’t like babies, and even if he did she and Claire couldn’t possibly fit into his life when Brody barely did.

That settled in her head once again, she joined the men when they sat at the table.

Drew peeked at her. “What time did you have to get up to be here and have all this ready by seven o’clock in the morning?”

“Four.” She laughed. “But don’t worry. Some days Claire gets me up at four. The days she doesn’t want to go back to sleep, I’m happy to have something to do rather than sit in my dark living room.”

The look he gave her tightened her chest. She wasn’t sure what was going on in his brain, but something about her getting up in the middle of the night didn’t sit well with him.

Before she could say anything, Max arrived. “Ready to work?”

Both men groaned. When they did, Gwen noticed the strange look Brody gave his dad. It seemed Drew had won Brody’s respect—not by being willing to work alongside him, but by hating the work as much as Brody did.

Drew rose. “Do you have things to do today?” he asked Gwen as he walked to the hooks by the back door to retrieve his coat.

“Plenty,” Gwen assured him.

He sucked in a breath, caught her gaze and said, “Then we’re off.”

Brody slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Dad. You’ll get the hang of that saw eventually.”

With that they left, and Gwen stared at the door smiling. Brody had spoken normally to his dad. And he’d slapped his shoulder affectionately.

She really had given Drew the right advice.

Lunch was quickly eaten sandwiches, but when the Teaberry men stepped into the house for supper the scent of gingerbread greeted them.

Drew saw a baked chicken, mashed potatoes, stuffing and green beans all sitting on the stove waiting for them, but the gingerbread stole his attention.

“Did you make real gingerbread men? From scratch?”

“Yes. They’re one of my favorites.”

He met her gaze. A warm, syrupy feeling flooded him. He now understood how men in the old west had felt when they’d come home to a log cabin that smelled like supper. “They’re my favorites, too.”

She smiled. “Thanks. I really love to cook.”

And he really loved to eat. He nearly sighed. They complemented each other so well that it seemed impossible they weren’t allowed to have a relationship.

“Hey, I like gingerbread men, too,” Brody said, grabbing one and stuffing it into his mouth. “Umm. They are good.”

Gwen playfully slapped his hand. “You’re going to spoil your dinner.”

“No worry on that,” Drew answered for Brody. “Max worked us so hard today we’ll probably each need two dinners.”

She laughed and told them to wash up. They left the kitchen, and when they entered the hall Drew saw rows of gold tinsel strung along the now clean walls. They spiraled up the banister of the stairway. Red bows with bright red and gold Christmas tree ornaments accented the tinsel.

Brody glanced around in awe. “Wow!”

Drew looked around, too. “Yeah, wow. I can’t believe she did all this and made dinner.”

Brody said, “I can’t believe how cool this looks.”

Drew peered at him. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. It’s great.”

Drew thought his son a little too old to be awed by a bit of tinsel, but he didn’t mention that. He had noticed the calluses forming on Brody’s hands, because he had corresponding calluses on his own hands, but that moment of camaraderie there in the foyer, looking at the Christmas decorations, made it all worth it. Two days ago Brody would have stormed by the decorations. He wouldn’t have spoken to his dad. Today they’d talked like normal guys. A father and son.

Gwen had been right. Working together was changing Brody. Relaxing him. Bringing back the son Drew remembered.

They returned to the kitchen and Brody complimented Gwen profusely on the decorations. “My mom doesn’t do anything like this,” he said, then dug into his chicken with gusto. “She has these weird blue and pink decorations that don’t look like Christmas at all. But these,” he said, pointing at the hallway, “look like the things we had in elementary school. That was when Christmas really felt like Christmas.”

Drew glanced up at Gwen, who nodded her head slightly in acknowledgement of the silent thanks he’d sent. He’d never thought of his son as deprived, and he certainly wasn’t. But it was sad that his favorite Christmas memories were from so long ago. Maybe that was his fault? Maybe it was Brody’s mom’s? Maybe it was life changing as Brody grew older? But whatever the reason it troubled Drew that Brody believed his best Christmases were a decade behind him.

Fierce fatherly instinct rose up in him. He had three weeks until Christmas, and somehow, some way, he wanted to make this a Christmas Brody would never forget.

The only problem was…he wasn’t sure how.