Sugar And Spice (Holidays: Valentine)

by Charlotte French

  “Won’t you stay for dinner?” Crissy asked.

  Amy shook her head. “Manu promised to take me out tonight so you’ll have to suffer without me. Try not to miss me too much. I’ll be back to pester you tomorrow.”

  Once Amy had left, Crissy pulled Quinn into the kitchen and pulled out ingredients for cookies. Quinn leaned back against the counter, doing his best not to get in her way despite the small room.

  “Hey, I meant to tell you when I got home,” he said. “Your sister called me at work today.”

  Crissy stopped and turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. “She…what?”

  “Yeah, she said she couldn’t get a hold of you. She heard about the fire on the news and she was calling to make sure you were okay.”

  Crissy frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Andrea at all. Are you sure it was her?”

  Quinn huffed a laugh. “It’s hard to forget Andrea.”

  “Can’t argue with that.”

  After a pause, he said, “You should probably call her back. I told her you were fine but she still wanted to talk to you, just to make sure.”

  “I’ll do it later. After the cookies are done.”

  She reached for the flour but Quinn stepped forward and caught her hand.

  “Now, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Put her mind at ease.”

  Crissy sighed. She really didn’t want to have this conversation now. She was sure Andrea wanted nothing more than to brag and gloat that Crissy’s shop was gone and she could move on with her life now.

  Quinn pressed a kiss to the side of her head and gently pushed her to the phone. “Go on,” he said. “You’ve got two minutes before I ruin the cookies. You’ve been warned.”

  She smiled slightly and picked up the phone, dialing Andrea’s number.

  “Hello?” Andrea said.

  “Hey, Andrea, it’s me, Crissy.”

  Andrea blew out a breath. “What happened? The news said there was a fire…are you okay?”

  Crissy blinked in surprise. Did those words actually come out of her sister’s mouth? Andrea never asked how Crissy was doing.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” Crissy said. “The coffee shop is gone though.”

  “Oh,” Andrea said, very quietly.

  A pause of silence stretched between them and Crissy shifted. She glanced at Quinn who was pulling butter out of the refrigerator. He gave her a thumbs up and mimed dumping the entire box of butter into the mixing bowl. She swatted at his hands and set the butter on the counter, a safe distance away from him. He reached for the sugar, a smug grin on his face.

  “Do you…” Andrea started then stopped, hesitated.

  Crissy turned away from Quinn. That was the second time Andrea had surprised her. Hesitating. Andrea never hesitated in her life.

  “Yes?” Crissy asked.

  Andrea took a breath and tried again. “Well I assume you’re staying somewhere with someone.”

  “Yes I am.”

  Andrea waited. Should Crissy tell her that she was staying with Quinn? It wasn’t really any of her business. Then again, Andrea was showing a rare, less prickly side…

  “I’m all right, Andrea,” Crissy said. “Thank you for calling and checking up on me.”

  “I have a spare bedroom if you need it,” she said, all in a rush and in a low whisper, as if she didn’t want to be overheard.

  Crissy shook her head. “That’s not necessary. I’m fine where I am. But thank you for the offer.”

  “It’s always open, if you change your mind. I won’t…tell Mother, if that’s what you want.”

  “Does Mom know? About the fire?”

  Andrea said nothing.

  “Andrea?” Crissy said. “Are you still there?”

  “Yes, I’m still here. And yes, Mother knows.”

  Crissy pressed her lips together, silent. Andrea was the one who called, not her mother. Her own mother couldn’t move past her grudge to ask if Crissy was okay…

  “Mother said she thought since she didn’t get a call, that you’re not hurt,” Andrea continued.

  “But you called,” Crissy pointed out.

  “Yes, well, it was either that or come there and find you myself.” She cleared her throat and her tone was brisk business again. “Anyway, I should go. Is there a number I can…call maybe? I called the fire department…Quinn, was it? He was very polite.”

  That was about as close to a compliment as Crissy had ever heard come out of her sister’s mouth. Crissy rattled off her Amy’s apartment number and Quinn’s home number but she kept her personal phone private still, just to be on the cautious side.

  “It’s good to hear you’re not hurt,” Andrea said.

  Crissy smiled and ducked her head. Maybe there was a speck of gold dust in her sister’s heart somewhere after all. After she hung up, she lingered with her hand on the phone for a moment, replaying the conversation in her mind. Quinn hooked her pinkie finger with his.

  “Everything okay?” he asked. “Looks like you’re doing some very serious thinking. Don’t hurt yourself or anything.”

  She rolled her eyes and pulled him closer by his belt. “My sister was worried about me.”

  “Is that…a good thing?”

  “It’s a strange thing. My sister has never been worried about me. Ever.”

  “Well, your home did burn down. That’s a close wake up call for some people.”

  She nodded, her thumb brushing back and forth against Quinn’s hip. He reached past her, flipped open an egg carton and took out two eggs.

  “Cookies?” he asked. “Pretty please?”

  She smiled and kissed him lightly. “Only if you make them this time.”

  He grimaced. “Can’t I just help like I did that one time?” He turned her around, his hands resting at her hips, his lips smiling against the curve of her neck and shoulder. “Like this?”

  She laughed and squirmed away from him. “No, you have to make them. It’s a stress reliever, remember?”

  “So are other things,” he replied, raising an eyebrow.

  She swatted at him with a wooden spoon and he laughed, catching her wrists and pinning them above her head, brushing his nose against hers.

  “This isn’t baking,” she said.

  He smiled and nuzzled at the curve of her neck and shoulder. When he nipped at her ear, she melted against him and he released his grip on her wrists. Her hands slid under his shirt and she pushed it off over his head.

  “Change of plans,” she said. “Maybe we’ll have cookies for breakfast.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Crissy dropped her coat by the door, kicked off her boots and headed straight for the kitchen without hesitating. She retrieved a bowl of bread dough from the oven she had left to rise while she was out and sighed as she sank her fingers into the warmth of it.

  “God, I hate job hunting,” she whispered.

  An hour later, when Amy showed up carrying pizza, Crissy was still in the kitchen, dusted up to her elbows in flour.

  “Hey, sugar,” Amy called, pushing in the door and dropping her bag on the floor. “I brought pizza. I thought you must be starving after being out all day running interviews and dazzling everyone with your skills.”

  Crissy glanced up with a smile and nodded to the table. “Come on in,” she said, though she didn’t need to. Amy was already making herself at home, nudging cooling racks of brioche rolls aside on the table to make room for the pizza.

  “How did it go?” Amy asked. “Any luck?”

  She shrugged. “It’s a small town. People have their loyalties to their friends, their boss’s daughter, that one woman they met at church who they’re secretly terrified of.”

  “So I take it that’s a no.”

  “There are a few possibilities on the table, said they’d get back to me. I’m probably going to end up at the Gritty Spoon though.”

  “Because they’re desperate to stay afloat. Their coffee is terrible.”

  “I wouldn’t be a cook, I�
��d be on dish duty and work my way up.” She sighed. “Again.”

  “There has to be other options out there. Keep looking, sugar, you’ll find something.”

  Crissy cast her a grateful look and dropped the kneaded dough into a greased bowl, covering it with a towel and sliding it onto the counter to rise. She dropped into a chair across from Amy and picked up a slice of pizza.

  “What about you?” she said. “How are you holdin’ up? Any more morning sickness?”

  Amy shook her head, her cheeks stuffed with pizza. “Doin’ pretty good on that end. But I made a decision last night.”

  Crissy raised her eyebrows, waiting.

  “I’m not going to Venezuela.”

  Crissy almost choked on her pizza. “What? Why not? Manu was crazy about it.”

  Amy sighed and set her pizza down. “I know. I haven’t told him yet. He had to buzz out really fast this morning and I didn’t have the guts to spring it on him when he was running out the door. Of course I’m not really looking forward to sitting down and having a long talk about it either but it’s going to suck either way.”

  Crissy shook her head. “But…why?”

  “You know why, sugar. I can’t leave you now. The shop is gone. Your apartment is gone. You’re job hunting. It’s just not a good time.”

  “Oh please.”

  Amy raised her eyebrows. “My sarcasm senses are screaming. I always knew you had sass tucked away inside you but damn, girl, where did that come from?”

  “I’ll be fine. You deserve that vacation.”

  “But…”

  “No,” Crissy said. “You’re not going to stay here and babysit me. I’m fine, really. Besides, I’ll be at my sister’s wedding, remember?”

  “All the more reason I should stay behind and hold down the fort in case I need to kick some ass.”

  “I’m sure Quinn won’t let anything happen to me. It’ll be good for you to get away from everything for a while.”

  Amy hummed. “I still think your sister is setting you up for a brutal show down. It weirds me out that she was semi-nice to you.”

  “It weirds me out too. And I don’t know if it’ll last or not but whatever happens at that wedding, it won’t matter. I’ve got my life here. So you’re going to Venezuela, even if I have to drag you onto that plane myself.”

  Amy watched her for a moment then made a small, surprised noise as she picked up her pizza again.

  “Holy shit, you sound like me,” she muttered.

  “It’s about time. You’ve been around long enough, it’s about time a little of you rubbed off.”

  “And here I thought I could get out of that sunburn.”

  “Not a chance. You need to suffer on a tropical beach sipping on coconut milk for a few days.”

  “You’re right. That sounds just terrible,” Amy said with a grin.

  ***

  “You have to promise to call me every single day,” Amy said, bundling Crissy into another hug.

  The Denver airport buzzed around them, people spilling by. Manu juggled their luggage at the same time he tried to get a grip on Amy’s elbow to pull her away. But she was too busy hugging Crissy for the hundredth time that afternoon.

  “I promise,” Crissy said, smiling and shaking her head. She must have made that promise at least three times every hour since she got up this morning and found Amy at her front door, talking a mile a minute.

  Manu finally got a hold of Amy’s elbow and pressed a kiss to her hair.

  “Time to go, honey,” he said. “We’re going to miss our flight.”

  Amy pulled back from Crissy, her eyes shining with excitement and tears threatening to spill over. She laughed and waved a hand in front of her face.

  “Stupid pregnancy hormones going nuts on me,” she said.

  “It’s only two and a half weeks,” Crissy reminded her. Again.

  “I know, I know.”

  “And Quinn will keep an eye on me.”

  “He better. I’ll kick his ass if he doesn’t.” Amy shook her head. “Who am I kidding? He can barely keep his hands off of you, never mind letting you out of his sight for long. You’ll be fine without me.”

  “But I’ll miss you all the same.”

  Amy whimpered. Manu tipped his head back and closed his eyes.

  “You had to say that,” he sighed.

  Crissy flashed an apologetic smile in Manu’s direction as Amy tiptoed forward for another hug. Then Crissy pushed her away.

  “Go,” she said. “Get sunburned and take as many long walks on the beach as possible.”

  Amy hooked her arm through Manu’s elbow and glanced over her shoulder one last time. Crissy waved as they entered the airport terminal and disappeared out of sight. She blew out a breath and walked around Manu’s truck to the driver’s side and climbed in. Two and a half weeks without Amy. And only one week until Crissy would finally face her sister’s wedding she had been wary of for months.

  When Crissy got back to Breckenridge, the sun was just slipping below the horizon, casting long blue shadows across town and she was exhausted. It felt strange without Amy’s constant hum of high energy around her. They had been inseparable for so many years and it was rare to be apart for long. Even when they had moved into different apartments, Crissy knew Amy was only a hop and a skip away. But now Amy was a little further away than that and it was taking some getting used to, even if it really was only for two and a half weeks…

  Crissy slowed as she passed the shop…where it had been anyway. The first time she had passed it a few days ago, it felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach. Her home blackened and charred, a mere skeleton. Now the debris had been cleared away and there was nothing left. Just an empty hole…

  She sighed and forced herself to keep moving. It didn’t hurt as much now, the ache in her chest. As long as she kept herself busy, kept doing other things the ache was beginning to ease to a point where she could breathe comfortably again. But she supposed it would always sting a little bit, to see her hard work gone in a matter of minutes. The memory might be fading but the imprint of it would forever be burned into her mind.

  As soon as Crissy stepped into Quinn’s house, she smelled it. Food. The rich spice of basil. The soft edge of cheese. The sharpness of wine.

  She crept into the kitchen on tiptoe to see Quinn at the stove, managing several pots at once. The table was set with real dishes instead of the paper plates they had been living off as Quinn continued to adjust to the move.

  “What are you doing?” Crissy said softly.

  Quinn flinched and turned to her, startled. He attempted to block the stove with his body.

  “No!” he said. “No you weren’t supposed to be back for another thirty minutes!”

  She grinned as she crossed the room and tipped her chin up to kiss him.

  “Do you want me to go back outside and wait? Close my eyes?”

  He sighed and turned back to the stove. “You’ve already seen everything, I guess.”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his back.

  “I thought you said you were horrible with cooking,” she said.

  “I am,” he replied, one hand settling over hers, his thumb stroking over her knuckles.

  “Then how are you pulling this off? Witchcraft?”

  He shrugged and she felt his muscles shift and slide with the movement.

  “Maybe…”

  Crissy ducked under his arm and surveyed the contents of the pots on the stove. Something about it all looked vaguely familiar…

  “Wait a second,” she said. “Didn’t I show Pete how to make this same meal a few months ago?”

  “Damn it, I hoped you wouldn’t remember,” he said with a sly sideways look.

  “I never forget food. You should know that by now.”

  “My mistake.”

  “So what’s all this for then?”

  He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and kissed the top of her head. “I figur
ed you’re going to be missing Amy for the next couple of days so I thought I’d cheer you up. Make a nice meal for you to come home to. Food makes you happy, I know that much.”

  A smile blossomed across her face so big it made her cheeks ache. She pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

  “You make me happy,” she said.

  His eyes brightened. “Yeah?”

  She nodded. “But you’re about to burn the sauce and that won’t make either of us happy.”

  He swore as he scrambled to turn down the heat and slide the bubbling sauce off the burner. He bit back a growl.

  “You should probably take over from here,” he said, stepping to the side.

  She shook her head and caught his wrists, pulling him in front of the stove again.

  “No way,” she said. “You’re doing just fine. Keep going.”

  She guided him through the rest of the cooking process until the food was hot and steaming, piled on their plates, and not a lick of it was burned. Quinn held out a chair for Crissy then took his own chair and his hand settled over hers. She turned her palm up, curling her fingers around his. He picked up his fork and hesitated, not quite touching the food.

  Crissy picked up her own fork and made to take a bite but Quinn almost came across the table to stop her.

  “What are you doing?” he said. “You can’t taste it first. What if it’s terrible?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “It’s not going to be. You made it.”

  “That’s my point.”

  She raised the fork to her mouth again, slowly, watching him. He hurried to scoop up a bite of his food to taste it first then paused, a small measure of surprise slipping across his face.

  “See?” she said, tugging on his hand. “It’s not terrible because you made it.”

  “I might have had a little help,” he said with a playful glance in her direction. “I picked up my tuxedo today by the way. For the wedding. Megan found it in a box in the back of her closet somewhere. It needed a little altering but it’s ready to go.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “You tried it on already? And I didn’t get to see it?”

  He laughed, soft and deep. “You’ll just have to wait.”

  “Now you’re just being mean,” she teased.