Holiday Spice

by Samantha Chase

  “Gross. Fine, go, and I’ll talk to you soon. I hope she feels better.”

  “Me too. Thanks. Bye!”

  Turning the phone off, Darcy put it on the nightstand and sighed.

  And then cursed.

  What if I’m wrong? she wondered. What if I misinterpreted the whole damn thing? What if I’ve been acting like a crazy person to a really nice—and attractive—guy?

  Maybe this is why I can’t seem to find Mr. Right—because I’m crazy.

  These were questions she just couldn’t answer right now. So rather than sitting there obsessing, she decided a nice soak in the tub sounded like the perfect thing to do.

  Standing up, she stretched and walked across the hall to check out the bathroom again. Flipping on the light, she saw it was a fairly standard soaker tub. No jets or anything special, but the thought of just sitting and relaxing made her very happy. She started the water and then went to get her things.

  Five minutes later, she had a pair of pajamas and a clean pair of underwear with her, a book, and two amazingly fluffy towels. Closing the bathroom door, she stripped, clipped up her hair, and tested the water. Perfect temperature, she thought, and groaned with pleasure as she settled in.

  It felt glorious, and it was doing wonders in helping her release some of her tension. The last thing she wanted to do was move from this position. It had been a stressful day, and this was the first time she felt herself relax. If the tub had jets, she’d contemplate sleeping in here. But it didn’t and she couldn’t.

  She wondered if Ben’s bathroom had a soaker tub. His bedroom had been pretty spectacular, and she wished she had gotten a glimpse of the rest of his space.

  Stop thinking about Ben! she admonished herself, because it opened the door for all kinds of thoughts, and in her current position, most of them were sexy. With a sigh, she forced herself to carefully pick up her book. It didn’t take long to realize that it was a mistake—a couple who hadn’t seen one another in years find themselves snowed in together over Christmas…

  “Great. What is the universe trying to tell me?” Part of her wanted to chuck the book across the room, but she really was a sucker for a holiday romance. And under normal circumstances, she’d find the whole snowed in together trope to be very romantic.

  “Screw it. I’m reading.”

  When she felt the water starting to cool, Darcy forced herself to pop the drain and climb out. Within minutes, she was out and dried off and slipping into her pajamas. She pulled the clip from her hair and shook it out. Tomorrow morning, she’d take a shower to help wake herself up, and then she could put the effort in to look decent. But for tonight?

  Why bother?

  Chapter 4

  It was still snowing.

  As Ben sipped his coffee the next morning, he stared out the window and cursed. The longer the snow continued to fall, the longer the delays would be for flights to resume their schedules.

  And the longer Darcy Shaughnessy would be in his house.

  He’d barely slept a wink last night thinking about her accusations. Have feelings for Savannah? Was she crazy? He snorted with disgust as he answered his own question. Of course she was crazy.

  Savannah was a friend. A good friend. He’d never had a romantic or sexual thought about her. Not even once. The first time they met, he was openly hostile toward her. And after that? Well, he grew to like and respect her. But that was it. Unfortunately, Darcy didn’t want to believe that. If there was one thing that was blazingly obvious about her, it was that she seemed determined to stick to her guns.

  And she was a major pain in the ass in the process.

  Stepping away from the windows, Ben looked at the clock and knew he should get some work done. Not the kind that he wanted to, but the kind he’d been avoiding for far too long.

  Paperwork and returning calls.

  Worst. Work. Ever.

  He made his way to the lower level where he had a small office. Inside was a desk, his computer, several filing cabinets, and—ironically—about twenty-seven thousand pieces of paper he kept meaning to file.

  Yikes.

  Though he knew he should put a dent in the filing, he just couldn’t muster up the will to do it. Instead, he sat, booted up the computer, and started going through his voicemails.

  On a normal day, he spent the bulk of it out in the workshop, working. This stuff? The clerical side of his work? It was a major distraction and one he tended to ignore. Occasionally, he caved and would hire an assistant to get it under control, but he hated having anyone in his home, and by the time he was done explaining what he needed and how his business worked, he could have just done it himself.

  He’d lost track of the number of assistants he’d fired in the past three years.

  Looking around the room, however, he realized he needed someone to at least get him back to a decent starting point. Because right now, as much as he hated having someone in his home, he hated this clutter more.

  He listened to voicemail after voicemail after voicemail of people requesting a new sculpture, some for Christmas. Were these people for real? It was the middle of October, for crying out loud. If they wanted Christmas, they were going to have to think about next Christmas, and even that was iffy. Looking at his calendar, Ben knew he was on the verge of being overcommitted. As it was, he needed a break. An extended one for his sanity alone. And that meant he was going to have to call people and let them know he wasn’t available.

  Wouldn’t having an assistant to do this be so much better? he asked himself.

  And the answer was a resounding YES!

  “Note to self—call the temp agency next week,” he murmured. Sure, he could have written it on a piece of paper, but why add to the pile?

  For an hour, he did his best to make notes on who he needed to call, and then he went on to return some emails, and at that point, he was ready to lose his mind. His hands were itching to get out to the workshop and pick up his tools. Unfortunately, he had at least an hour of shoveling just to get to the workshop.

  “Living the dream,” he said as he stood and stretched. It was only eight in the morning, but he figured he might as well throw on his boots and coat and get started. It would get him out of this office and doing something productive and physical, which he needed after sitting around for the past few days working on the book with Darcy.

  And then that whole thing came to him again. For the past hour, he’d been able to push it from his mind. Eventually, Darcy was going to wake up and come down from the guest room, and he’d be forced to see her and talk to her and… Hell, he had no idea what to expect. Ideally, he hoped she’d apologize.

  Then he realized that was not likely to happen.

  Glancing over at his phone, he thought about calling Savannah himself, but it was early. He certainly didn’t want to wake her if she had the opportunity to sleep in.

  Maybe…

  “Oh my God. What happened in here? Were you robbed or something?”

  Great.

  Darcy was awake.

  Turning, Ben saw her standing in the doorway, looking horrified.

  Join the club, he thought.

  “Good morning to you too,” he said, forcing a smile. “Sleep well?”

  Darcy stepped into the room and looked around, the look of horror still in place. “Um, yeah. Great. That bed was incredibly comfortable—way more than the one at the hotel.” Then she paused and looked at the piles of paper on the floor in front of the filing cabinets before looking at him. “Seriously? What is the deal with this room?”

  “I’m a little behind on my paperwork,” he said simply and shrugged. “Are you hungry? All I’ve had is coffee this morning, and I could go for something to eat before I tackle the shoveling.”

  “Ben, how…I mean…all of this…” She stopped and sighed with exasperation. “How can you work li
ke this?”

  Fine. He knew it was a mess—okay, a disaster—but he didn’t like her tone as she pointed it out to him. “I avoid coming in here, normally,” he admitted. “But this morning, I had no excuse, and I was just coming up with a plan of attack.”

  “And did you?”

  He nodded. “Yup. So no worries.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” she said quickly. “I was just making an observation.”

  There was a hint of defensiveness in her voice, but he chose to ignore it. Hell, he knew he was sounding the same way. Either way, if she still wanted to argue with him—about anything—then so be it. He, however, wanted something to eat. Without a word, he walked past her and made his way up the stairs to the kitchen. He heard her footsteps behind him a minute later.

  “I can whip up some eggs,” he said as he looked in the refrigerator. “I have bacon and sausage if you have a preference.” Turning and looking over his shoulder, he saw Darcy standing by the windows and looking out. Closing the refrigerator door, he walked over and joined her. They stood in silence, watching the snow fall.

  “It’s still snowing,” she said quietly.

  “It is.”

  “How much do you think is on the ground already?”

  “About a foot, I’d say.”

  “Damn.”

  “I know.”

  Sighing, Darcy turned to him. “So I’m clearly going to be here for a few days.”

  He nodded.

  “And I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

  Another nod.

  “So…”

  Was this it? Was she going to apologize? Ben found himself holding his breath.

  “I may have…misinterpreted some of the things you said.”

  That was it? Was she kidding him?

  “And to show you that there’re no hard feelings, how about I make us breakfast?” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “I know I said baking was more my thing, but I can do some eggs or maybe some French toast or something. What do you say?”

  He wanted to say she needed to apologize to him and admit she was completely wrong, but he didn’t. Instead, he put another smile on his face—it felt awkward and forced—and replied, “French toast sounds great. Thank you.”

  Darcy gave him a genuine smile.

  And it hit him like a solid punch to the gut.

  Yeah. He’d forgotten how her smiles affected him.

  “Okay,” she said excitedly. “Why don’t you go and do…something, and I’ll get breakfast going. I know you said you have to go out and shovel, but you probably don’t want to go out and get started only to have to come in fifteen minutes later.”

  “No, but I can assess the situation. So let’s say thirty minutes? Deal?”

  She nodded, still smiling, and said, “Deal!”

  For a minute, he thought she was going to hug him. Something in her body language—she sort of leaned in for a second but then immediately pulled back. The only thing Ben could think of doing was to hightail it out of there and find something to do. Fast!

  “Good. Um, I’ll see you in a bit then,” he stammered as he made his way to the stairs. He fairly sprinted down them and made fast work of pulling on his boots and coat. There was a utility closet off the mud room where he kept a small selection of snow shovels and a blower. He had a duplicate set out in the garage. It made it easier for him, because the winters in Washington meant they could get snow at any time. And when he was in the workshop, sometimes he needed to dig a path to the house. And then the next morning, he’d need to do it all over again. It just made more sense to keep a set in each spot. Grabbing a shovel, he set out to get started.

  When he stepped outside, the freezing temperatures felt like bliss on his skin.

  “I’m in deep trouble here,” he murmured, watching his breath float in front of him.

  And he wasn’t referring to the amount of snow on the ground.

  Darcy Shaughnessy was trouble to, well, just about every aspect of his well-being. He’d been so busy obsessing about how much she annoyed him that he hadn’t allowed himself to think about his initial attraction to her. And now that it was out there again, there was no taking it back.

  There was nothing he could do about it right now, unfortunately. So rather than stand still and let the snow build up around him, Ben gripped the shovel and began clearing the entryway. As expected, there was at least a foot of snow to deal with. The workshop was about fifty feet away.

  He was going to be at this all day.

  And for once, that didn’t seem like a bad thing.

  Then he remembered Darcy was preparing breakfast. But he could eat quickly and get out without it seeming like he was trying to avoid spending time with her. And really, he just needed to focus on getting a path to his workshop. If he could get there, all would be right with his world. He could spend all day out there and not have to see or talk to Darcy at all.

  She’d probably appreciate that too.

  That was all the motivation he needed to get started.

  The first shovelful of snow was always the hardest, but once he got started and found his groove, Ben made decent progress. It was a hard, physical task, but after so many days of being still, it felt good to get his muscles moving. With each pile of snow he tossed aside, he felt invigorated. Every foot closer he got to his workshop, he felt hopeful.

  “Ben!” Turning, he saw Darcy peeking her head out the door with a big smile on her face. “Time to take a break. Breakfast is ready.”

  When he simply stood there and didn’t respond, she looked at him curiously.

  “Come on,” she said cheerily. “I’m just getting ready to plate everything and, if I do say so myself, it all looks and smells delicious.” Then she waved before she stepped back inside.

  Looking around, he saw he was about ten feet into the path, and even though the snow was still falling, he’d be able to go over his work with relative ease after eating.

  Maybe he could just use a broom for that, or the blower, or maybe…

  “Ben!” She stuck her head out the door again and laughed. “The snow will still be here after you eat. Come inside and get warm for a little bit before breakfast gets cold too.”

  And then like a man walking to his execution, he slowly made his way into the house.

  * * *

  She was definitely in trouble.

  Serious, serious trouble.

  Watching Ben shovel snow was just hot. Why the hell did he have to be so damn attractive? Everything about him was starting to be appealing, and she wasn’t sure if it was just her long-dormant hormones coming to life or if the man was just that damn sexy.

  Damn romance novels. All of a sudden, she was having these feelings, and it was starting to get a little disconcerting.

  Why couldn’t a guy like him be interested in her? Maybe not Ben specifically, but…

  A small gasp escaped before she could stop it. Was that what this was all about? Was she upset because she thought Ben had a crush on Savannah, or because he didn’t have one on her? Would she feel this way—be this freaked out—if the whole gushing incident hadn’t happened? If this had just been a work situation and she had found him attractive but he didn’t reciprocate, would she be this worked up? Could she really just be jealous?

  “Or is he really that annoying and I’ve got too much time on my hands and need to think about something else for a little while,” she murmured.

  Putting the plates on the table, she admired her handiwork. French toast, sausage, warmed syrup, and coffee. She’d set the table and it looked welcoming, if she did say so herself.

  She hoped he appreciated it.

  From what she could tell about Ben, he seemed to be a bit of a loner who took care of himself. And no one else. There was no evidence around the house that he was involved with any
one.

  What kind of woman did he like? Find attractive?

  She cursed and was about to let herself get into that stupid mind-set when she heard him trudging up the stairs. Pasting a smile on her face, she stood next to the table and waited for him to appear.

  And nearly swallowed her own tongue.

  The faded jeans, the thermal Henley with a flannel shirt over it…none of it should have been appealing. None. Of. It. There was a time when, if she had seen a guy dressed like that, she would have made a snarky comment about him looking like a lumberjack. But on Ben, it looked so damn good.

  Too good.

  Sexy good.

  Ben took one glance at the table and then at Darcy and smiled—and it was a genuine smile. He has such amazing eyes, she thought. And when he looked at her the way he was looking at her right now, she could feel herself melting a little bit.

  Okay, a lot.

  Clearing her throat, she said, “So, um, I hope you’re hungry.”

  Nodding, Ben began to roll up his sleeves as he walked over to the sink. With every inch of skin he revealed, Darcy could only stare. Muscled forearms, tanned skin… She forced herself to look away. She heard him wash his hands before he came and sat at the table. She joined him and felt herself beam with pride when he said, “Everything looks wonderful, Darcy. Thank you.”

  All she could do was nod.

  All her life, her family had complimented her when she cooked or baked, so it wasn’t as if she had never been praised for her efforts, but something about the way Ben said it—the rich baritone of his voice and the look in his eyes—made it feel so much more intimate. And that had her melting a little bit more.

  They ate in silence, and she racked her brain for something to say that would get her mind off the sexy thoughts. Midway through the meal, she asked, “So is there as much snow on the ground as you thought?”

  He nodded. “And it’s still coming down. Part of me knows this is going to be a battle to get it cleared and shoveled, but if I don’t at least get this first round done, then it’s going to be that much harder when it’s over.”