His by Christmas

by Teresa Southwick

  “It matters to me.”

  “You’re a perfectionist.” She nodded her understanding. “That’s a completely different motivational speech and I don’t have the notes with me.”

  He looked unhappily at the mess of destroyed foliage in front of him. “I don’t like wasting anything—resources or time. Since I have nothing to show for this hour, it must be classified as wasteful.”

  Justine watched his determined attempt to weave another reed into his creation. His big hands were not delicate, making the task harder. On top of that he was all thumbs. Athleticism didn’t automatically translate to an activity requiring fine motor skills. And yet she thought he was completely adorable. A fish out of water who made her insides tap dance. Words that she would never say out loud.

  “Okay, tell me this. In the last hour have you thought about work even once?”

  His big hands stilled as he considered the question. “No.”

  She grinned at him. “Mission accomplished.”

  “Not really.” He glanced at the people who were standing up now, showing off their beginner baskets before drifting off to their next recreational pursuit.

  “Did you see that?” Cal met her gaze. “Everyone else made a functional item. A receptacle capable of holding something. Post-its. Paper clips or staples.”

  “Vacation means you have to stop looking at the world through a prism of work. What those people made could be used to hold individual eye shadows, seasoning packets or hair accessories.”

  “Exactly. They made something useful.” He held up his sad attempt. “This is a flat nothing.”

  “Well, you really are Danny Downer today.” She tapped her lip, mulling over the misshapen thing. “Maybe it could be a place mat.”

  “For a rodent.” He shifted, moving his injured leg to a more comfortable position.

  “Oh, please...” She took a breath and counted, taking control of the shivers skipping through her when his arm brushed hers. Studying the irregular square, she said, “I see the beginning of an area rug.”

  “Seriously?” He gave her an incredulous look.

  “Why not? The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step.”

  “It must be exhausting,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Being a glass-half-full person all the time.” He shook his head.

  There was a time when she wasn’t. Her heart caught as memories kaleidoscoped through her mind—a man’s strong arm draped casually across her shoulders, a laughing, red-haired toddler. But when a person suddenly lost their spouse, child and reason for living, the line between despair and optimism was razor-thin. She’d walked it a long, painful time, more than once nearly slipping into the emptiness.

  Then she made a choice, a conscious decision to focus on the positive. At first it was impossible to find anything hopeful. But she found if you worked on something long enough it became a habit. Still, she could never forget that the habit had grown out of the glass-half-empty time of her life.

  Working those optimism muscles now, she managed to smile at him. “How about that ice cream?”

  “If it means I don’t have to work with these weeds anymore, I’ll race you,” he said.

  She laughed. “I wouldn’t want to take advantage of a man on crutches.”

  “My odds are improving.” He stood, balancing on his uninjured leg while he reached for the crutches leaning against the end of the table beside him. “I’m getting pretty fast on these things.”

  “No argument there.” She got to her feet and picked up the woven basket she’d made. He, on the other hand, was walking away without his. “Aren’t you going to take yours?”

  “My what?” He pivoted and met her gaze. “It isn’t anything.”

  “Sure it is.”

  “What?” There was still faux bitterness in his voice.

  “Maybe a coaster?”

  He rolled his eyes. “If you leave it I’ll buy the ice cream.”

  “No way. This is my treat.”

  The little shop was located down a path right near the hotel’s lobby. It was a charming place with circular tables and metal chairs that had padded red seats and heart-shaped backs. Behind the glass display case, the different flavors of ice cream were displayed.

  The young woman behind the counter was wearing a white apron and a big smile. “What can I get you?”

  “I’d like a scoop of cookies-and-cream. In a dish, please,” Justine said.

  “A decisive woman,” Cal observed. “Remarkable.”

  “And for you, sir?”

  “Make mine two scoops of salted caramel vanilla with chocolate sauce.” He looked down. “The second one is my reward for persevering today.”

  “I’m not judging,” she assured him.

  “Both good choices,” the ice-cream lady said. “I’ll have it ready in a jiffy.”

  Cal insisted on buying, and Justine was both pleased and uncomfortable. Even though he expensed her presence here for work-related items on the island, his buying even a simple thing like ice cream had a more intimate vibe. It seemed personal and she didn’t know what to do with that. She carried their cups to a corner table because he had his hands full of crutches. When they were settled, both of them started eating. Did he feel awkward or was it just her? Not a question she was going to ask.

  After a few moments of silence, Cal said, “This is really good. Almost worth the humiliation of that class.”

  “I think you secretly enjoyed it. Or maybe the part you liked best was picking on me and complaining. Of course you’d never admit it if I’m right.”

  “About that...”

  “So I am right,” she said triumphantly.

  “No. I really hated it.” He met her gaze and his expression turned serious. “But I was taking it out on you. Did I say something wrong?”

  “No.” That answer was automatic because she had no idea what he was talking about. Then curiosity kicked in. “When? What? I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “When I asked if it makes you tired being upbeat all the time. You had a funny look on your face. And by funny, I mean sad.”

  Bam. There was her reminder that he didn’t miss a detail. And didn’t forget. After his question, she’d been thinking about pulling herself out of the dark pit of depression she’d fallen into following an unimaginable loss. It was quite extraordinary that after their stroll for ice cream and ordering it, he would remember her reaction to his offhand remark.

  “I hope you know I was teasing,” he said sincerely.

  “Yes.”

  “What were you thinking about?” he asked.

  “Stuff.” Not an ice-cream sundae conversation. “And it’s only fair to warn you that I have a dark side.”

  As she’d hoped, he interpreted her remark as more teasing. “You have layers. That just makes you more interesting.”

  “I’m a lot like basket weaving.” The look on his face made her laugh. “What you saw on my face was empathy for the poor palm fronds who were sad. Many reeds were sacrificed in the artistic yet noble pursuit of your trivet.”

  “There it is.” He pointed his spoon at her. “The snarky streak is strong in you.”

  “May it live long and prosper,” she joked.

  “Unlike my weaving skills.”

  “The only way to improve is by doing. Practice and repetition.”

  “Please don’t make me.”

  The serious mood scattered, replaced by teasing and banter. Just the way she liked it. Because thinking about Cal made her head hurt. He had so many wonderful qualities and today she’d discovered another one. Two, actually. He was perceptive and sensitive. If she had known how much she would like this man, all the money in the world wouldn’t have made her take this job.

&n
bsp; Chapter Seven

  Cal was more than happy to shoot his mouth off when he was right but not so much when Justine was. Especially since he’d given her such a hard time about nonwork activities. The truth was, he’d had a great time on the outing this afternoon. Oh, he did in fact loathe basket weaving, but it was fun finding out that he shouldn’t quit his day job for it.

  On top of that, the break from work had been rejuvenating. Considering all of that, a different setting for dinner seemed like an excellent idea. With Justine, of course.

  He saw her pick up the phone at her desk and knew what was coming. “Are you planning to order room service?”

  “Yes.” She set the receiver down again. “Was there something in particular you wanted?”

  “There is, actually. I’d like to try the five-star restaurant here at the resort.”

  “Oh?” She smiled and there was a little smugness in it. “Someone had a good time today and is looking to broaden his horizons again.”

  So much for thinking she might not notice there was a connection. “Okay. The field trip didn’t bite. You’ve got thirty seconds for a victory lap and then we’re moving on.”

  “Only thirty seconds?”

  He looked at his watch. “And...go.”

  “Am I allowed to say I told you so?”

  “At your own peril,” he warned her.

  “Okay. I told you so.” She grinned, a look full of satisfaction, and damned if it didn’t look good on her. “Whatever peril you have planned is worth it.”

  “Good, because you’re going with me to try that five-star restaurant.”

  “Oh—” The smile disappeared. “I’m not sure—”

  “No you don’t. You’re not wiggling out of this. I want to go to the restaurant, and better than anyone you know how resistant I’ve been to outings. That suggests I’m going a little stir-crazy. You must be, too, eating here all the time. There’s just one condition.”

  “What’s that?” she asked suspiciously.

  “When you’re back to work in Blackwater Lake, tell everyone what a sweetheart of a boss I am.”

  Justine laughed, a lovely, happy sound. “So the next time you break your leg on vacation, everyone will volunteer for drudge duty on a tropical island paradise?”

  “And I thought I was being so subtle.” He got up from the sofa and propped himself on the crutches, then moved over to the desk. “Don’t make me eat alone.”

  “Well...it would be nice to get out of the villa.” She glanced around the elegantly appointed deluxe surroundings and laughed. “Now, there’s something I never expected to say.”

  “Excellent.”

  “I’ll make a reservation.”

  An hour later the resort’s golf cart shuttle dropped them off in front of a stand-alone building adjacent to the hotel’s main five-story tower. Out front there was lush landscaping, including flowers in yellow, red and pink. Tiki torches lighted the path to the heavy front doors with vertical handles.

  Cal was going to be a gentleman if it killed him. He hobbled over and balanced himself on his one good leg, then opened the door. “After you.”

  “I could have done that,” she scolded him. “You don’t have to show off for the hired help.”

  It hit him that he was showing off and didn’t think of her as only an employee. His perception had changed and he wasn’t exactly sure when that happened. When she’d demonstrated her stretching moves? Or the day she’d half carried him to that lounge on the beach and he got just a taste of her appealing curves? Maybe it happened today when the basket weaving and ice cream had turned into a flirt fest. At least, he thought she’d been flirting and knew for a fact he had been.

  No one would accuse him of understanding how a woman’s mind worked, but he wasn’t entirely clueless, either. A little rusty, but not oblivious. They’d had fun together today. Not that work couldn’t be fun, too, but it was different outside the office, even if his office was in a luxury villa. He decided to let the showing off remark pass without a comment. Anything he said would just complicate an already complicated thing.

  “Chivalry is not dead.” Holding the door open with his shoulder, he breathed in the floral scent of her skin as she walked past him.

  There was a high desk, and an attractive woman who must be the hostess stood behind it, waiting. She gave them a friendly smile to go along with the greeting. “Good evening, Mr. Hart. I do hope your leg is mending nicely.”

  “Feeling much better, thanks. I’ll be in a walking cast soon.”

  “That’s good to hear. I have a lovely, secluded table for two. The most romantic we have, in my opinion.”

  His assistant opened her mouth, probably to clarify that this wasn’t a romantic dinner. Before she could get the words out he said, “Lead the way. I’ll follow you, Justine.”

  She hesitated a moment and there was a confused expression on her face. Then she shrugged and said, “Okay.”

  Several couples dined at nearby tables and watched curiously as they passed. A few minutes later they were sitting at a booth in the corner. There was a pristine white tablecloth and a lighted candle along with fresh flowers in the center of it. And silver salt and pepper shakers.

  “Lorenzo will be your waiter,” the hostess informed them. “You’re in good hands with him.”

  “Thanks,” Cal said.

  Justine looked around and said, “This is nice.”

  “Yeah.”

  There was elegant dark wood trim on the walls and paintings of the ocean and local landscape. It was quiet except for the low hum of voices. Moments after they settled, their waiter appeared.

  “My name is Lorenzo and it’s my pleasure to take care of such a beautiful young couple.”

  Justine lifted a finger, signaling her intention of setting him straight. “You should know—”

  “When did you arrive on our beautiful island?” the middle-aged man asked.

  “About a week ago,” she answered. “And I have to tell you that—”

  “You’re going to tell me that you’re honeymooners. I suspected since this is your first visit to Castaways Restaurant. I would remember if you had been here before. But you’ve been keeping to yourselves. Being alone is the goal of a honeymoon, but sooner or later a change of scenery is good—to keep the romance alive. Yes?”

  “It’s a challenge.” Justine’s tone was wry. Apparently she’d decided not to burst the guy’s bubble. “Especially with a broken leg.”

  Lorenzo made a sympathetic tsking sound. “A story from your honeymoon trip to share and laugh about one day.”

  “Right.” Cal noticed empathetic looks from other male diners around them.

  “It is my job to make sure you keep up your strength. For healing.” He winked as he handed over the menus. “Can I get you something from the bar?”

  “Wine?” Cal looked at his assistant, who shrugged as if to say, Why not?

  “I’d like a list, please.”

  “Of course, sir.” The waiter left and moments later returned to hand it over.

  Cal studied the choices and saw one of his favorite labels, an expensive and very nice pinot noir. Justine confirmed that red was fine with her and he ordered a bottle. Lorenzo disappeared and they were alone again.

  “So,” she said, “that guy is full of local color.”

  “And observant,” Cal joked. “Pegging us as being on our honeymoon.”

  “I know, right?” She laughed.

  “Congratulations.” The middle-aged man sitting at the table closest to them raised a wineglass. His companion had just left, presumably to visit the ladies’ room. “I couldn’t help overhearing.”

  Cal wasn’t sure how to respond. She was his assistant and they were working together, but that explanation would get a
wink and a Yeah, right, that’s what they all say. Whether or not they ever saw this guy again, Cal wouldn’t take a chance that Justine might be embarrassed. So he shrugged and let the man believe what he wanted.

  “Tough break,” their table neighbor said, glancing at the cast up to the knee. “The leg, I mean. Don’t let it hold you back, if you know what I mean.”

  “I’m pretty sure we do,” Justine said wryly. “Thanks for the advice.”

  “My wife and I are celebrating ten years together. This is our anniversary trip. The kids are with my folks.”

  “Congratulations,” Cal said. “What’s the secret to marital longevity?”

  “Listening,” he answered promptly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s a component of communication. We took a marriage seminar because I interrupted all the time and it was driving Carol nuts.” He shrugged. “Turns out if you’re thinking about what you’re going to say next, you’re not really listening to what she’s saying.”

  “Makes sense,” Cal told him.

  “Seems simple, right?” The guy laughed. “It takes a lot of practice but it’s worth the effort. And the other thing I would say is to make the most of alone time. Before you know it, kids come along and it’s not just the two of you anymore. I’m not knocking it. I love my kids, and having a family is the best thing that ever happened to me. It’s just that you have to work a little harder on the couple thing. Don’t take it for granted.”

  Cal was looking at Justine and noticed a wistful expression on her face. That seemed to happen when the subject of couples and kids came up. “I can see how that happens.”

  “So,” the stranger said, “this is worth what you paid for it, but look at that cast not as an obstacle but as an opportunity.”

  His wife returned to the table and gave him a look. “Alan?”

  “What? Just chatting up the honeymoon couple and sharing what’s worked for us, sweetie.” He did seem sincere. “It’s been the best ten years of my life.”