Christmas Inn Love

by Collins, Kelly

  He laughed. “I haven’t had one in ages. For the last few years, I can safely say everything has been indecent.”

  Rob knew as soon as his words were out, they came out wrong. “I don’t even know what that meant.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “You’re a bachelor. I think indecent is a requirement.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He wondered if she pictured him eating sushi off a naked woman’s body. “I just said something dumb trying to make a play on words, and it didn’t work. I wasn’t referring to my love life. Because my love life is nothing but business deals.”

  She rolled her eyes like she didn’t believe him.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she whispered. “I’ll start dinner.”

  “If you haven’t started, can I help?”

  “Can you cook?” she asked.

  “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” He wiped up the melted snow with the towel. “Eating out got old quickly. I learned to whip up a few things I could enjoy.” He followed her into the kitchen where she took the towel and tossed it into a basket set in the corner. “What’s on deck?”

  “Well,” she said, eyeballing the cupboard, “I planned to make a pork roast but that might take too long.”

  He looked over her shoulder at the ingredients she had on hand.

  “How about pizza?” he asked.

  “Pizza?”

  He reached over her for a bag of flour and packets of yeast.

  “This will be quick and it’s in my lane. Do you mind if I take over your kitchen and make something for you?”

  “Well—”

  “Right, you were going to make barbecue and here I am taking over.”

  “No, it’s okay.” She moved back and took a seat at the table.

  “Are you sure? If your heart is set on pork, I don’t want to change your mind.”

  She looked lost, like she didn’t know how to answer an offer of someone taking care of her for a change. There was a pause between them, and it gave Rob an opportunity to study her. Neither of them was old by any means. She was by his calculations thirty-three and he’d just turned thirty-four.

  She was so pretty. The same perfect hair from high school fell past her shoulders in a quieter, simpler style. Not as fussy as it had been when they were in the tenth grade. He would have sworn she’d spent hours on it then, highlighting it, blowing it dry, curling it, but now it looked effortless.

  Rob opened a cabinet door, guessing where the stemware might be. He took down two wine glasses and found a bottle of chardonnay in the fridge. He drew the bottle out and poured her a glass.

  “You relax and keep me company while I make you dinner. How does that sound?”

  She lifted the glass. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

  “Sure.” He splashed the glass with a taste and held it out to hers for a toast.

  “Cheers.” Next, he made sure the oven was empty, and he turned the knob to preheat. Pizza was his specialty. He mixed the dry yeast with warm water into an empty bowl he found in the middle of the table.

  “Usually it has fruit in it,” she said.

  “Good thing it’s empty today.”

  He could feel her watch his every move. Was it because she didn’t trust his skills, or was it because no one ever cooked for her? He imagined it was the latter because there was no concern in her eyes when he glanced at her.

  When the yeast foamed to his satisfaction, he shook some flour into the bowl. He salted and stirred it until it came together, then kneaded it a few times and let it rest.

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I figure if I was going to ruin myself on pizza, I might as well make it. The process is very therapeutic.”

  “I serve flatbreads to the guests, but I get the pre-made crusts from Jackson’s store.”

  “Oh, is it Jackson’s store?” he teased.

  “Yeah,” she smiled. “That’s how I think of it, anyway.”

  “You’ll have to make me something off your menu some time.”

  “That was the idea, before you took over my kitchen.”

  “I thought you might like a break.” He kneaded the dough a few more times. “But if you mind, I’m happy to turn it over to you.”

  “No, have at it.” She waved him off. “I’m learning something watching you.”

  He hoped it was that all men weren’t awful.

  He wiped a baking sheet with a paper towel dabbed in oil. He floured the dough, rolled it out quickly, and laid it on the sheet.

  “Okay, now comes the good stuff.” He pointed to the refrigerator. “Mind if I get in your goodies?”

  Without missing a beat, Celia quipped, “Why, I thought you’d never ask.”

  Rob fired her a look. He couldn’t hide his attraction and feeling the spark between them warmed him.

  His attention turned to her fridge where he found what he needed. He mixed up a personal recipe for pizza sauce and topped the crust with a mishmash of various cheeses and herbs.

  “Now,” he said. “This is where you come in. Help me decide what should go on this.”

  “Jackson likes meat. Hamburger, sausage, pepperoni,” she answered.

  “And what does Celia like?” he whispered. “I’m sure Jackson could eat a whole pizza, but why don’t each of us take a third? What do you want on your third?”

  “I like feta cheese and veggies.” She came to life and ducked under his arm that was holding open the door of the refrigerator. She stepped in front of him so she could gather what she wanted.

  “And what do you like?” she asked as she bent over.

  Celia’s amazing backside butted against his thighs. Her question instantly became a loaded one.

  “Oops,” she said. “Pardon me.”

  Rob wanted to reply, “No, forgive me” because her clumsiness sent sexy thoughts racing through his mind. She was firm and obviously made time for the gym, though he was sure Pinetop didn’t have one so that meant running the inn was a workout for her.

  “I’ll have whatever you’re having. I’ve done my part,” he said. “You do the toppings.”

  “I like the top,” she said with the first authentic smile he’d seen since they got acquainted.

  Their bodies were close as they danced around each other, smiling at the risk of accidentally colliding. Rob looked out the window to check on the snow.

  “Wow, that was so fast.”

  “Piling up?” she asked.

  He watched her use cooking shears instead of a knife to julienne the peppers. She set it aside and broke out an egg pan.

  “I like to brown the sausage. I’ll throw together a salad to go with the pizza, so my teenage termite is fully fed,” she teased.

  “Eats a lot, does he?”

  “Don’t you remember when you were his age?”

  “I do.” His mother used to tell him he could eat through a week’s worth of groceries in a day.

  “I feel like I’ve lived the last sixteen years in this kitchen,” she joked.

  “All by yourself?” he asked.

  There was a quick shift in the atmosphere. It was like a storm-cloud hovered above them, and Rob regretted the question. It was way too soon and bad timing during their nice moment to bring up what felt like it might be a sad subject.

  “Mostly,” she answered.

  Against his better judgment, Rob continued. “So … Jackson—big Jackson was two years ahead of you and me—”

  “Yep, I was seventeen, and he was nineteen. It wasn’t easy,” she answered.

  “You’ve done a fine job.” He tried to lighten the moment with a well-deserved compliment. “On both your son and the pizza. Let’s put that sausage on and put this beauty into the oven.”

  She turned off the flame and went through the motions of topping the rest of the pizza. The light mood of earlier disappeared.

  “I hope I didn’t say the wrong thing.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not you. I’ve never
been sure why people get so darn curious about a young mother. Things happen. Bad decisions can be blessings in disguise.”

  “I’m not sure why either,” he said.

  She put the pan in the oven and swirled around to retrieve her glass. She tipped the bottle into it, filling it to the top, and lifted it to her lips to drink. It was a medicinal sip.

  He wished he could go back in time and make the conversation go a different way.

  Celia leaned over and hit an intercom switch and called for Jackson. In minutes, he and Lucky bolted through a side door.

  “What smells so good?” he asked.

  “Dinner.” She didn’t sound short or angry, but she wasn’t the same perky person who had been glad to see him earlier.

  “Can Lucky lay under the table?” Jackson asked.

  “We can try it, but if he bothers us, he has to be put away.” She looked at him and the dog and smiled. “Dinner should be ready in another ten minutes. Wash up.”

  “I got it,” he said happily, and dashed off to wash his hands. Lucky moved after him like a shadow.

  Celia’s eyes cut to Rob as if to say don’t ask about his father in front of him.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I learned my lesson.”

  Chapter Seven

  Celia

  Jackson set the big table they reserved for guests with cloth napkins and fancy cutlery.

  Rob lit the candles. When the food was served, even though it was only pizza, everything was beautiful.

  Celia felt bad she had gotten riled earlier. Now she was trying to calm down. She would be a fool to waste what could be a nice moment for all of them.

  Rob pulled out her chair like a gentleman and acted like she hadn’t been rude to him. Maybe he was being polite and waiting till dinner was over to never speak to her again.

  She sat next to Jackson. After he cut the pizza, Rob sat across from them both.

  “You guys made this?” asked Jackson, whose voice still squeaked with puberty.

  “Got to put a little oil on that voice, bud,” Rob ribbed with a warm smile.

  With his teasing, the tension in her evaporated.

  Jackson laughed hard enough to double him over.

  “My mom calls me bud too.” He broke off a piece of pizza to give to the dog, but Rob stopped him.

  “Not a good idea.” Authority rang out in his voice, but he wasn’t unkind. “That could kill him. It has onions. They’re not good for dogs. Neither are grapes nor chocolate.”

  “Oh.” Jackson set the bite on the edge of his plate. “I didn’t know.”

  “I looked stuff up as soon as he wound up on my doorstep.” Rob’s tone softened. “The rule seems to be, don’t feed him your food, and he won’t feed you his.”

  Jackson laughed again. They were on a roll.

  “So will the snow kill your business this weekend?” Rob asked.

  “No.” She nursed the wine they’d poured in the kitchen. “It shouldn’t. We’ll have the roads plowed. I have a guy at Pinetop Hardware who always gets me cleared out.”

  “Would that be Scott?”

  She knitted her brows. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned him.”

  “He didn’t seem to like the fact that I knew you.” Rob sipped his wine.

  “Scott’s over the top but very helpful when I’m in the store.”

  “Very helpful.” Jackson finger-quoted the words.

  “That seems to be the truth.” She remembered calling Scott ‘Rob’ and how he hadn’t liked that. She would have told him the story except she didn’t want to admit he was on her mind when she made the mistake.

  “Helpful nice or helpful creepy?” asked Rob.

  “He might have a thing for me.” She could feel her cheeks warm. Was it the wine or Rob?

  Jackson snickered at her choice of words.

  “Jackson,” she warned.

  Rob joined her son in laughter and soon the table was infected.

  “Scott has a thing …” mocked Jackson.

  “Okay, that’s enough.” Celia put her hand up before he crossed a line.

  “The second she’s in the store, he’s tailing her, asking her if he can help her. He’s on her like lint on tape.”

  “That’s funny.” Rob lifted his glass to his lips and finished his splash of wine. “No one was eager to help me. I had to track him down. It was weird too because he gave me a tough time about building my fence. I’ll take great delight in canceling that order.”

  “Aw … you aren’t building a fence for Lucky which means I won’t learn how to use any tools.” Jackson’s tall frame slumped in his seat.

  “I don’t expect I need one. What do you think?” Rob asked.

  “I was looking forward to learning construction.”

  “There will be no shortage of my need for help. The resort will provide many opportunities to work. If you help, then you’ll bring Lucky, won’t you?” He rubbed the scruff on his chin. “I might have to think this through. A fence might be a wise investment after all.”

  “Let’s not spoil dinner with talk of deforestation and destruction.”

  She made her request with as endearing a smile as she could muster.

  Rob looked at her, his eyes twinkling with warmth and allure.

  “We have to talk about it sometime.”

  “Not now please,” she requested again. “I’m liking you right this minute.”

  He held up his hands in a sign of truce. “Okay, I’d hate to ruin my good luck.”

  “And you don’t have to build a fence for the dog,” she said, shaking her head.

  “I’ll still think about it.”

  She caught herself smiling at him.

  He too lingered, tilting his head with the same winsome expression.

  She took a deep breath. Jackson looking on made her feel self-conscious. She straightened and reached for his empty plate. They’d made a good dent in dinner. It was time for something sweeter. She had a frozen yogurt cake she could top with a raspberry sauce in a matter of a few minutes.

  “Do you two fellas have room for dessert and coffee?”

  “What do we have?” asked Jackson.

  “Yogurt cake.”

  “Can I have mine with chocolate syrup and a glass of milk?”

  “Yep. What you about, Rob?” She turned to him and lifted a brow. “Anything I could interest you in?”

  He gave her a look that said he’d like a lot more than cake and coffee. How long had it been since a man looked at her like that? Scott from the hardware store didn’t count because she had no interest in him, but Rob was a different story. Did she want to offer him more?

  “Coffee and cake sound wonderful, but I should hit the road. Let me check on that snow.”

  “Stay here,” Jackson blurted. “I mean, if it’s too deep, stay the night.”

  Celia knew her son didn’t understand the looks that were being passed between the two of them. All he considered was they had enough rooms in the inn for him to stay if he needed to. They rose from the table with plates in hand, taking them back into the kitchen.

  Celia commandeered them, sliding the scraps into the trash and rinsing the plates off while Jackson took the cake out of the freezer.

  “What can I do?” Rob asked.

  Celia looked over her shoulder as she loaded the dishwasher. She glanced at the two men and saw the actions of a family. Her late ex-husband never pitched in for meals, cleaned up, or ate with them. He devoured his food as fast as he could and left the table. That was if he came home. He spent most of Jackson’s younger years missing in action. He’d leave for months at a time without a word.

  Rob was a natural at the whole domestic thing. He and Jackson side by side looked right. She shook her head. She couldn’t let herself romanticize the moment, though it made her wonder if she was ready for something more.

  “How are you at making coffee?”

  “I’m an excellent barista.” Rob moved in closer to her.

&
nbsp; Jackson chuckled. “Can we keep him, Mom?”

  Celia wasn’t sure if it pleased her that her son liked Rob so much. Was having him around only setting them up for disappointment?

  “Let's see if he’s house-trained.”

  “Mom has jokes.” Jackson needed no direction as he set the table again, only this time for the yogurt cake. It was plain vanilla and since Jackson suggested the chocolate sauce, she didn’t bother with her raspberry one.

  The pungent fragrance of coffee cut through the air. Rob made the coffee good and strong which would be great, except it meant she wouldn’t sleep well that night, and Celia loved her sleep. She peeked through the kitchen window to check the snow and feared that Rob might, in fact, be snowbound.

  “Guys,” she said.

  They closed in around her as she looked out the window. Rob and Jackson were a good six inches taller.

  “Wow,” remarked Jackson and then he clutched Rob’s shoulder. “Looks like you’re spending the night for sure.”

  Rob and Celia glanced at one another. The coffee pot sputtered, signaling it was just about finished.

  “Coffee’s ready,” Celia announced, changing the subject.

  “I’ll take Lucky out,” Jackson said. “I’ll be right back.” He left Celia and Rob alone.

  She went through the motions of gathering cups for coffee. The attraction she felt for him was clear and no longer an underlying element or notion. It was like another presence floating in the room. She could feel him behind her on the verge of asking a question. She waltzed past him to the dining room table.

  “Can you grab the coffee?” she asked. “Help yourself to the milk, or creamer, and sugar if that’s how you like it.”

  “Hey,” he said as he followed behind her.

  She ignored him.

  “Hey,” he repeated.

  He set the coffeepot on a trivet and took hold of her arm. They were so close she could feel the tickle of his arm hair. Her body reacted immediately. Racing heart. Sweaty palms. Pulsing in places that hadn’t been touched in a decade. It was more than the fact that it had been a long time for her. There was a heady physical chemistry bouncing between them.