Bending the Rules

by Margaret Watson

  No,” she said fiercely. “You needed this trip. You kept your family together after your parents died. You gave up everything to run the restaurant and raise them. I was selfish to try and keep you from leaving. Stupid not to grab the chance to go with you. Selfish, stupid and scared.”

  “Why were you scared, Emma?” he murmured against her throat.

  “Because I was afraid to take a chance. Afraid to trust you. Afraid you’d let me fall if I leaped.” She laid her cheek against his. “I don’t take chances. I plan everything. I need to be in control.”

  “And now?”

  She kissed his throat, nibbled his earlobe, began to unbutton his shirt. “You make me lose control.”

  He took her hands away from his chest, held them between their bodies as he nuzzled her neck, pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin beneath her ear. “Everything here was gray without you. Everything I saw, every place I went, all I could think about was how much you’d like it. How much Harley would enjoy being here.”

  “I missed you, too, Nathan.” She kissed his cheek, the corner of his mouth. “You’d been gone less than a day and I realized I’d made a mistake. We needed to be here. With you. For you.” She pressed her lips against his. “You’re more important than school or my job.”

  “You’re more important than a stupid trip I planned before I even met you.”

  “It’s not stupid,” she said, her hands bracketing his face. “Not coming with you was stupid. Being afraid was stupid.” She closed her eyes and kissed him again. “Nothing was right until I turned around downstairs and saw you.”

  He smoothed a hand along her neck, down her arm, touching her as if he still couldn’t believe she was in front of him. “God, I missed you, Emma. I tried to book a flight home, but they told me they didn’t have anything for five days. I didn’t care about anything except having my family with me.”

  The last of Emma’s fears fell away. “I’m not your family.”

  “I want you to be. I love you, Emma.” He brushed her hair to the side and kissed her. “These days without you were horrible. Italy is wonderful, but I couldn’t enjoy it. I just wanted you.”

  He kissed her again, her mouth, her nose, her eyes, her neck. “Marry me, Emma. Please. Be my family. Make a family with me. I love you.”

  Her heart grew and grew until she was afraid it would explode out of her chest. “I love you, too, Nathan.” She slid her mouth along his, pressed closer when he shuddered against her. “I missed you so much and I love you and of course I’ll marry you.”

  His mouth covered hers before she could say any more, and he backed her toward the bed. “We have an hour,” he whispered against her lips. “Not nearly enough time to show you how much I love you. But I’ll do the best I can until we wake our daughter up and discover Italy together.

  “Before we tell her we’re going to be a family forever.”

  EPILOGUE

  NATHAN STOOD IN the kitchen at Mama’s Place, his arm draped over Emma’s shoulder, and watched Marco and Harley making pizza sauce. Frankie and Cal, Darcy and Patrick stood next to them. Harley had a Coke, everyone else had glasses of red wine and they were all talking and gesturing at once.

  It was loud. Boisterous. And the most fun he’d had since...he tugged Emma closer. Since last night.

  They’d returned from Italy two weeks ago, but he hadn’t really felt as if he was home until he’d walked into Mama’s. The scent of garlic, baking pizza crust and pungent cheese, the sound of raised voices yelling in Spanish and English, the scarred table in the corner of the dining room—this was home. It always would be.

  Nathan was going back to school part-time to finish his degree. After that? He wasn’t sure. But he’d never leave Mama’s completely. It was in his blood.

  Tonight was the big pizza sauce contest, and Harley had talked about nothing else for the past several days. Before the contest started, Marco had given Harley a chef’s toque and a white jacket with her name embroidered on it. Harley had stared at her uncle, swallowing hard, for a long moment. Then, her eyes glittering, she’d thrown herself into his arms.

  Emma’s mouth had quivered as she watched, and Nathan had a hard time swallowing. Then Marco stepped away with a huge grin. He smirked at Patrick and Cal. “Guess we all know who the favorite uncle is.”

  Now, as Marco and Harley worked, Nathan sipped his wine and looked at his siblings. Fifteen years ago, he’d thought his family had been destroyed. But they were all here, stronger than ever. Happy. In love. His parents would be proud of the way their kids had grown up.

  Harley lifted her pot of sauce and carried it to the pizza counter. “One ladle, Pedro,” she told their pizza maker. “Not all the way to the edge,” she added. She leaned over the counter to examine the crust Pedro had already prepared. “That looks good. Sauce it!”

  Nathan bit his lip as he watched her. The expression on her face was so familiar. His mom had looked exactly like that when she was preparing a dish. Finally satisfied with the pizza, Harley backed away. Grinned at Marco. “You’re roadkill, chef-boy.”

  “Yeah?” Marco set his own pot of sauce on the counter, and Pedro took it with a grin. “We’ll see. You’re gonna eat your words.”

  “Ha. The only thing I’ll be eating is a pizza. My pizza. The winning one.”

  Nathan tried and failed to hide his grin. And twenty minutes later, after everyone sampled both pizzas and voted, they waited for Francisco to tally up the votes.

  He and Emma would vote for Harley. He was pretty sure Patrick and Darcy would vote for Marco. Frankie had told him that she and Cal had fought about it, and neither of them would budge—she was voting for Harley. Cal had Marco. Harley and Marco would vote for themselves.

  It was going to be a tie, but that was okay. It would give Harley and Marco something to bicker about. Because that seemed to be their favorite way of communicating.

  Francisco looked up from the scraps of paper ballots and grinned. “Harley won!”

  “Harley won?” Emma looked around and frowned, and Nathan knew she’d counted up the votes in her head, too. Someone had changed the script.

  He saw Marco watching Harley, a tiny smile on his face. And he knew.

  Taking Emma’s hand, he drew his brother to the side. As Harley high-fived the rest of the family, Nathan said, “You voted for Harley, didn’t you?” in a voice too quiet to be heard by his siblings.

  “Yeah.” Marco watched Harley, who was explaining her recipe to her aunts and uncles. She was practically dancing with excitement, and she left tomato-sauce-stained fingerprints on her toque as she grabbed it to keep it from slipping off her head.

  Marco smiled at Nathan and Emma. “Need to motivate the next great Devereux chef.” His eyes softened as he watched his niece. “She’s as good as Mom was. She’ll be better than me, eventually.”

  As Nathan watched his daughter, he could have sworn he felt two pairs of hands settle on his shoulders. He was tempted to look behind him, but he knew no one was there.

  He felt their presence, though. His parents were watching. In his head, Nathan could see the smiles on their faces.

  Mom and Dad would always be with them. They’d always be part of the family. Here at Mama’s Place.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Spirit of Christmas by Liz Talley!

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  CHAPTER ONE

  MARY PAIGE GENTRY stepped into an icy puddle of water as she exited the taxi with not only one high-heeled shoe, but both of them.

  “Darn, darn, darn!” she said, trying to turn back to the driver without stepping into the cold water again. The cabbie raised bushy eyebrows and she tossed him a glare. “I assume you didn’t see that puddle when you pulled up?”

  He shrugged.

  “Yeah, right,” Mary Paige muttered, blowing out a breath that ruffled her bangs. “Just wait for me, okay?”

  She didn’t hang around for his response because, after the day she’d had, something had to go in her favor. She slammed the door and leaped to the curb, managing to clear the puddle she’d previously waded through. Having the cab wait for her would cost a small fortune, but she was way late to her uncle’s infamous Christmas kickoff bash, thanks to her boss, Ivan the Terrible.

  The frigid water seeped into the toes of her shoes as she walked toward the iron-barred glass door of the convenience store anchoring a corner in Fat City. Stupid, stupid! If she hadn’t let vanity rule, she’d be plodding around in her cute fleur-de-lis rubber boots with warm tootsies. But because the strappy high-heel, pseudo–Mary Janes had called her name that morning, she would risk frostbite for the remainder of the evening.

  Flashing neon signs hung garishly on the front of the store, bright cousins to the various cigarette ads, and from somewhere to her left, music bled onto the street. The door to the convenience store swooshed open, and she moved aside to avoid a woman who burst out, clutching a paper bag containing a fifth of something potent. Her elbow caught Mary Paige’s arm, but the woman didn’t even acknowledge the offense. She merely growled something about skinny blonde bitches and waddled down the block.

  “Really?” Mary Paige called after her, even as part of her relished the backhanded compliment since she’d spent the past two months doing Zumba and eating foam chips in an effort to fit into a size eight again. As she reached for the closing door handle, she heard a low moan to her right. Her hand paused in midair, hovering above the cold metal.

  Pulling her jacket closer to her chin and nuzzling into the cashmere scarf her ex-boyfriend had given her last Christmas, Mary Paige peered into the darkness beyond the blinking lights lining the eaves. At first, she saw nothing in the shadows, but then spied movement.

  She stepped toward the noise, her feet squishing in her wet shoes, her teeth starting to chatter. The light plink of sleet on her shoulders made her wonder if she was somewhere other than New Orleans. They rarely saw anything frozen—except daiquiris—so it had been quite the sensation when they’d gotten a blast of winter the day after Thanksgiving.

  Newspapers stirred and she made out the form of an elderly man wrapped in a thin blanket, moving among discarded boxes and newspapers quickly becoming sodden with the sleet.

  “Sir? You need some help?”

  The man stopped his rustling and flipped her the finger.

  “Guess that answers that question.”

  She turned around, ignoring the tug at her heart. Why didn’t he go to a shelter, anyway? Too cold out for someone to be sitting around with nothing more than a thin blanket. She glanced to the corner and found the cab still waiting. Good. A man who listened. An early Christmas miracle.

  She entered the warmth of the store, blew on her hands and scanned the cramped aisle. Nope, none of it would do. Bottled water, sanitary products and condoms. The necessities of life, sure, but nothing that would help her tonight.

  The second aisle proved as fruitless. Nothing but potato chips, cartons of cookies and packages of those powdery little doughnuts. Mary Paige’s stomach betrayed her with a growl as she eyed the pink snowballs. She shook her head and rounded the end cap, where she scanned the new offerings, methodically sweeping her gaze along the aisle, mentally discarding everything until… Bingo!

  Hanging innocently at the end of the aisle was the most repugnant pair of Christmas socks she’d ever seen. They were bright green with sparkly silver-tinsel trees around the ankles, adorned with bright cherry-red pom-poms. The tops had garish silver lace that matched the flashy trees and small jingly bells. They were hideous and absolutely perfect for the white-elephant gift required for Uncle Fred’s crazy pre-Christmas party. Mary Paige snatched them as if they were the Holy Grail. Finally, something had gone right.

  She hurried toward the register, hating that she’d already taken too much time in this little stop, hating that the homeless curmudgeon outside the door weighed on her conscience. Yeah, he was a miserable old goat, but it was the beginning of the Christmas season, and it was colder than normal outside.

  Perhaps she should get him a little something to warm him up?

  A coffee bar sat to her right, featuring a self-service, instant cappuccino machine. Not the best, but certainly good enough. Mary Paige glanced at the register. Only one person in line. Surely five more minutes wouldn’t hurt. She spun toward the bar, snatched a medium-size cup, centered it beneath the spout and pushed the button. It filled quickly. She plopped a lid on and grabbed two sugar packs along with a stir stick.

  Darn. Two more people had joined the queue behind the woman paying.

  She got in line, shifting back and forth on her frozen feet trying to restore the circulation and wondering why she even bothered with an old bum outside a convenience store in the middle of Metairie. He’d probably hurl the cup at her and ruin her only decent jacket. Par for the course considering the day she’d had. A run in her stockings, a nervous stomach that had sent her to the bathroom twice, a coffee stain on her pristine white blouse and a tongue-lashing from Ivan the Terrible when the towering pile of receipts on her desk didn’t add up for their biggest client. She really wanted to go home and curl up in her ratty chenille robe with a glass of wine. Instead, fierce love for Uncle Fred sent her scurrying across the city in a cab she couldn’t afford, wearing shoes now frozen stiff.

  Mary Paige finally reached the register, where the cashier snatched the socks from her, scanned them and dropped them into a plastic sack.

  “Ten thirty-seven,” the cashier said, not even bothering to make eye contact with her.

  Mary Paige rooted in her purse for her wallet. Ugh. She’d left it in her desk after doing some online Christmas shopping. But, luckily she always kept some cash in the side pocket along with her ATM card. Her fingers crisscrossed in a desperate search. No cash.

  No way.

  Thankfully a second swipe netted her the ATM card. She glanced at the cashier, who glared knowingly in return.

  “Uh, do y’all have an ATM?”

  The cashier pointed to a machine sitting below a glowing sign as a man behind her in line growled, “Jeez, get your cash before you get in line, lady.”

  Something inside Mary Paige snapped. “Listen, buddy. I have had a hell of a day and my ex-boyfriend stole all my cash. Give me an effin
g break here!”

  The man stepped back, throwing up his hands before giving her a smart-ass gesture toward the ATM.

  “Thanks.”

  She prayed as she entered her PIN that her account wasn’t overdrawn. Things had been so hectic lately she couldn’t remember the last time she balanced her bank statement. Please, please let the stupid machine spit out the money.

  The machine whirred and coughed out the amount she’d requested—thirty bucks.

  Whew. Hibernia Bank had just earned itself a place on her Christmas-card list.

  Mary Paige popped back in line as the rude construction worker rolled his eyes and blew garlicky breath on her neck with theatrical exaggeration. Mary Paige shrugged at the cashier. “Happens to the best of us, right?”

  The cashier held out a palm and gave no response, making Mary Paige feel like even more of an idiot. She placed a ten-dollar bill in the outstretched hand of the cashier along with three dimes and a nickel, the sum of all the change she could scrape up from the bottom of her purse. The cashier cleared her throat and looked pointedly at the money.

  “Oh, sorry.” Mary Paige scooped two pennies from the take-a-penny, leave-a-penny container on the counter. “There you go.”

  She grabbed the coffee and the plastic bag, swerved around Big and Beefy, desperately wanting to give him the finger—much as the old bum had given her earlier—and stalked out the door.

  “Ow.” Hot coffee splashed on her fingers through the open drinking spout. “Double darn it.”

  She shook the liquid from her fingers and caught sight of the cab out of the corner of her eye. Thank God he’d waited, and thank God the ATM had delivered the money she needed to pay for the cab. Shoving the bag with the socks under her arm, she held up a finger indicating she would be a minute longer, then headed around the corner to the old man.