by Nia Arthurs
Hustling outside, I stand on the sidewalk and plaster the cell phone to my ear.
“Come on, Gran. Pick up,” I murmur.
The freezing temperatures threaten to chew my fingers off. I slip my hand into my pocket and bounce up and down to preserve warmth.
The line rings.
Rings.
Click.
Voicemail.
I dial Will next and he picks up on the first ring.
“Hello.” Will sounds curt and impatient.
“Where’s Gran?” I growl. “I need to talk to her.”
“She’s in a meeting.”
“I’ll go to her place then.” I take a step.
“She’s not in the country,” Will says flatly.
My breathing forms a cloud in front of me. “Will, what the hell is going on? Is Gran really stepping down in a month? Why didn’t she tell me?”
“You’ll need to speak with her directly.”
“I want to do that, but I’m starting to wonder if it’ll make a damn difference. She’s intentionally keeping things from me.” I hiss into the phone. “Why do I keep finding out about the company affairs from other people?”
“I’ll let your grandmother know that you called.”
“Will.”
“Stay safe, sir.”
Click.
That brute hung up on me.
I pull my fingers into fists. Glare at the night sky. Grit my teeth.
Irritation coils inside my chest, winding and winding until I’m afraid something’s going to pop.
The hell is Gran doing? Why would she dump me into the most problematic bakery one month before she stepped down as CEO? What on earth is her master plan?
And more importantly, what else is she hiding?
Restless, I swivel around to go back in the club. When my heart gets anxious like this, there’s only one solution. Partying until I pass out.
If I don’t distract myself, those dark thoughts will come roaring out of the shadows. Monsters aching to consume me. The fast life is the only thing that helps to numb the pain.
Before I can take a step, the front door of the club bursts open and a slender woman hurries out. She stops on the sidewalk and takes a big gulp of air as if she’d been suffocating.
My eyes trail the woman’s tight dress. Red fabric clings to her small but curvy body like a glove, enhancing the exaggerated flare of her waist. The scooped-out design of the back exposes her light brown skin to the moon.
I find myself walking toward her before my brain registers the familiarity of her honey-blonde hair and that gorgeous body.
She spins and her face comes into focus.
“Clark?” Her name rolls off my lips with a hint of shock.
She lifts her head, her chin cutting through the air. The moment our eyes lock, she jumps back. “Mave.”
“What are you doing here?” I glance at the door of the club and quickly revert my gaze to her face again. “Are you okay? Were you running from someone?”
“Oh. No.” She laughs nervously.
My eyebrows knit together. The way she stormed out of the club, it looked like she was upset. “You can tell me.”
“I know. But it’s—” She chews on her bottom lip, drawing my eye to her full, plump mouth. At work, she wears a light lip gloss, but tonight those scrumptious lips wear a sultry tone. Dark red. The kind of red that’ll leave a stain on clothes. On skin.
I picture those lips wrapped around me.
A buzz starts in my head.
My pants tighten.
I have to force my attention back to her eyes. “It’s what?”
“Embarrassing.” She pushes her hair out of her eyes and stomps her foot to ward off the cold.
I realize she must be freezing in that slinky red dress. Shrugging out of my jacket, I place it around her shoulders. “You can tell me somewhere warm.”
“Mave…”
I stride past her and hand my ticket to the valet.
Clark eases the jacket off. “You’re trembling.”
“You need it more than I do.” I don’t know why my voice escapes so roughly. She looks absolutely breathtaking in that dress, but the thought of other men eyeing her tonight irritates me. “Keep it on.”
Her eyebrows form a deep V but she doesn’t argue.
I check out the door of the club again, but no one comes rushing out after Clark. That makes my heart relax a little. Whatever she was running from, it didn’t follow her outside.
She sees where my eyes have gone and smiles. “No one was bothering me. I swear. I wasn’t in there long enough to get hit on.”
“Why did you run then?”
She buries her nose in my jacket, looking small and alone. I want to wrap my arms around her, but I keep them at my sides.
Clark sighs. “An old friend invited me to their bachelorette party. I wouldn’t normally come to things like this, but I figured I could make the effort. When I walked in, it didn’t feel like my world, you know?”
“Too loud.”
“Too… unfamiliar. Clubbing isn’t my idea of a good time.”
“Homebody.”
“You say that like an insult, but I claim that title proudly.”
“You want something more low-key?” I ask.
Her lips lift slightly. “It sounds like you have another option.”
“You trust me?” I ask as my car cruises to a stop in front of us.
“I don’t know.” She steps toward me. Her heels click against the pavement. “Should I trust a man who hates Christmas?”
I laugh, the tension in my chest slipping away. “I never said I hated it.”
“Actions speak louder than words, Mave.”
I get the door for her. “Then don’t bother answering the question with words.” I jut my chin at the car. “Do you trust me, Clark?”
She studies me for a long moment and I’m half afraid that she won’t get in. To my relief, Clark climbs into the front seat.
I slap the door shut and hurry around to the other side. When I glance at Clark, she’s busy running her hands over the dashboard and the leather seats.
“Whoa.” She breathes softly. “I didn’t know the company was this generous.”
“The company?” I tap the screen and turn the heater all the way up.
“This is a company car, isn’t it?”
“Not exactly.” I drive toward the highway.
She laughs. “Yeah, right. You expect me to believe you own this car?”
I smirk, finding it hard to keep my eyes on the road when all I want to do is stare at her. “You said you wanted a distraction tonight. Is it because of the Christmas decorations? Or what Vulture said?”
The smile droops until it flattens in a straight line. “No.” She sinks further into her seat. “It’s my sister.” Clark flashes me an exasperated look. “She’s pregnant.”
“Most people would be pretty happy about that.”
“No. I am.” She runs a hand over her face. “I’m just upset about who she’s pregnant for.”
“An ex-husband?”
She snorts. “Levonte has no interest in putting a ring on Max’s finger, but he sure likes making kids with her. He’s the father of my two nieces. And, well, of baby number three who’s on the way.”
“Maybe he’ll propose now.”
“I wouldn’t want her to accept even if he did.”
“He’s that bad?”
“He’s an irresponsible playboy with absolutely no care for other people’s feelings.” Her entire body shudders. “The only person Levonte cares about is himself. He doesn’t give a damn about all the pain he’s leaving behind as long as he gets his satisfaction. I cannot stand people like that.”
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, feeling personally attacked. “Maybe he’s changed.”
She slants me a dirty eye so potent, it could kill me. “I doubt it. Narcissists like Levonte don’t change. They just get worse.” Another big sigh escapes her.
“Although I guess the blame isn’t entirely on him. Maxine fell for his play. Again.”
“Love can do that.”
“Well, love sucks.” She pouts.
I laugh softly.
Her lips twitch as she turns to me. “Alright, I spilled my guts. Your turn.”
“What do you want to know?”
She taps her chin. “Why do you hate Christmas?”
“I don’t hate it.” I glance at her. “And that topic is off-limits.”
“Now I really want to know.”
“You’ll have to live with the suspense.” I drag my eyes away from her and focus on the snowy road. The windshield wipers make a soft, mechanical whirr as they move back and forth.
The warmth from the car seeps through my bones and chases away the cold that came from standing outside without my jacket.
But it’s more than the heater at work.
Clark’s presence is just as warm as the sun. Every time she smiles, the ice around my heart thaws, leaving me oddly vulnerable in her presence. The problems with Gran and the bakery seem far away.
As long as I can keep Clark smiling, I know I’ll be okay.
I’m not sure how I know that, but I do.
She knocks her head back against the chair. “You know what I could go for? Ice cream.”
“Ice cream?” I laugh. “In this weather?”
“Don’t tell me you hate ice cream too.” She shifts toward me. “If you do, I need to get out of this car right now because you’re definitely a psycho.”
“That’s a ballsy generalization. What if I’m lactose intolerant?”
Her eyes narrow. “Are you?”
“No.” I chuckle.
“Can you pull over? I need to run before I end up inspiring a Christmas-themed horror movie.”
I laugh even harder. “Keep your seatbelt on. Ice cream’s my only exception and I know a great place.”
“I’m trusting you, Mave,” she says, her voice bubbling with humor.
“I know.” I give into the urge and take her hand, squeezing it lightly before letting it go. “And I won’t let you down.”
13
Clark
“These are your nieces?” Mave leans his head close to my phone as he peers at Moe and Tan. His dark eyes sparkle with laughter. “They’re cute.” He tilts his head knowingly. “Mischievous?”
“You have no idea. They fight like they’re mortal enemies sometimes.” I dunk my spoon into my Oreo cookie ice cream.
“I heard all siblings fight though,” he says before taking a chomp out of his cone.
“Not me and Max.” I smile wistfully. “Mom and dad travelled a lot for their job, so we were left home alone most of the time. Max fussed at me like she gave birth to me. I couldn’t stand her sometimes, but I loved her most of the time.”
“She still nags?”
“She means well. She’s the sensitive type. Always crying over other people’s pain.” I shake my head. “That softie.”
“You love her a lot.” It’s not a question. Mave’s gentle, studious gaze tells me he’s already sifted me out and seen behind every card I’m holding.
I feel off-kilter tonight. His good looks are too distracting.
Mave’s a handsome man. No red-blooded female would argue with that.
He’s also extremely confident, bordering on cocky. I saw that the first day we met and again when he stubbornly refused to explain his annoyance with the Christmas decorations.
But there’s more to him.
So much more.
I shift my eyes away because I don’t want him to get too close, but it does no good. I’m drawn to him and, for some reason, I want to spill my guts.
“I remember, as a little girl, following Maxine around in the kitchen during Christmas break. Sometimes, she’d push me in a stroller, and we’d go ‘Christmas shopping’ in our bedroom. We’d buy toys from our teddy bears.”
“How charming.”
“I don’t know when she started making stupid choices in love, but there’s something about Levonte that has her in a chokehold. Every time they get back together and break up again, he takes a little piece of her with him.”
“On the bright side, he gave her two adorable daughters.”
“True.” I blink rapidly to keep the emotions at bay. “She’s my sister. I want her to be happy. The one thing she’d always wanted to be was a mother.”
“It sounds like she’s a great one.”
“Yeah.” I drag my spoon through the ice cream and watch it melt slowly. “But she never wanted to handle that job alone.”
“She wants to get married?”
“She wants someone she can depend on. Max is superwoman. She can do it all by herself, but she shouldn’t have to.”
I remember my sister’s confession at the café. Max had nearly cried when she talked about feeling lost and overwhelmed. It stunned me to find out that she was so frustrated.
No matter how hectic things got, Maxine always seemed to have her life under control. Her kids are always fed, kept on top of their studies and given the affection they need. She never complained once in front of me.
Should I have noticed that? Could I have helped her before it got to Baby Number Three?
Mave clears his throat and says, “I always wanted a sibling.”
“You’re an only child?” My eyes snap to his. My lips ease into a grin. “That makes sense.”
He chuckles. “Why does that feel like an insult?”
“It wasn’t meant as one.” I twirl the spoon in his direction. “Maybe that’s your guilty conscience at work?”
He dips his head, that quiet, almost shy smile on his lips.
My heart bucks at the sight of it. Something tells me this vulnerable, introspective Mave is not a side he lets other people see often.
I pull his jacket closer around my shoulders. It smells like him. Minty and expensive. I want to take a deeper dreg of the fragrance, but I’m afraid I’ll look like a crazy person.
Instead, I dig my fingers into his jacket and whisper, “You must have been lonely.”
“What?” He glances up, startled. As if I just put my finger on a raw wound. As if I saw something I wasn’t supposed to.
“Being an only child,” I explain. “Even if Max’s stupid decisions make me furious, I know she always has my back and I always have hers. There’s no one else I’d want fighting on my side. Not having that…” I shake my head. “I can’t imagine it.”
He squirms. “I had friends.”
“Who’d die for you?”
He clamps his lips together.
Realizing I’ve been too judgmental, I try to walk myself back. “Family doesn’t always mean being related by blood. I’m sure you’ve got a ton of friends who have your back.”
He bobs his head hesitantly. “Sure.”
I smile to lighten the mood. “Were you close to your parents?”
“I was.” There’s a tinge of sadness in his voice. “But I lost them early. I grew up with my grandmother.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“No, she did her best. I had everything I needed.”
“But you weren’t close,” I guess, noting the way his eyebrows draw down.
“She was a workaholic, always running after that next goal post. I knew her time was divided, so I didn’t like taking too much of it. She was stressed out enough with her business.”
“Seems like you disagree with her methods.”
He leans back and gives me an assessing look. “Not exactly her methods, just the philosophy behind it.”
“How so?” I purse my lips.
“We try so hard to make something of ourselves, but what does that even mean? And who is it for? We’re just going to die and leave it all behind anyway.”
“Exactly.”
He arches an eyebrow.
I clasp my hands together, my gaze locked on his. “That’s exactly why we try so hard. So the people we leave behind have something to
hold on to. So our legacy lives on even after we’ve passed away.”
“By then, you’ll be dead.” The muscles in his square jaw clenches. “And it won’t matter.”
“It’ll matter to someone,” I whisper. “You work hard so it matters to at least one person. If you’ve done your job right, that person is someone you loved.”
His eyes lift and meet mine, a heavy stare that seems to communicate something important. Something I can’t quite read, but I wish I could.
My heart is moved by it.
Our hands are so close on the table.
His a pale shade.
Mine a light brown.
It wouldn’t take much to reach out and put my hand on top of his. Offer the warmth I can tell he so desperately needs. He did the same to me earlier in the car. It’s not like it means anything.
But, somehow, I can’t bring myself to do it.
I can’t touch him.
My heart’s already softening toward him and it shouldn’t.
He.
Is.
My.
Boss.
Friendship is okay, but the emotions swirling inside me feel far more intense than that. I have to stop the progression before it burns out of control.
Under no freaking circumstances can I catch feelings for this man.
Yanking my hand back, I tear my gaze away from his and focus on my ice cream. Awkwardness seeps into the air.
My phone chirps.
I grab for it, relieved at the break in tension.
That feeling goes flying out the window when I notice my sister’s name on the screen.
Maxine.
“Hello?” Her voice sounds quiet and tentative in my ear.
“I’m not dead,” I say sharply. “Don’t worry.”
She blows out a breath. “When are you coming home?”
“When I’m ready,” I snap. My mixed feelings toward Maxine and her decision to let Levonte between her legs again stirs up. All the irritation I’d been running from drowns me again.
The frustration in my voice stems from somewhere deep inside. A place filled with fear and helplessness. A place where wishes don’t come true because reality steals them before they can bloom.
“Clark, I know you’re upset, and I get why you need some space tonight, but don’t do anything out of character, okay? Please.”
