Some Kind of Wonderful: A Holiday Novella (The Cupcake Lovers)

by Beth Ciotta

  “Yeah. And it’s not going anywhere.”

  “What about us?”

  “Not in the Hummer. Blocked in front. Snowed in from behind. According to the map and GPS, Marx’s cabin should be just up and around the bend. We’ll have to hoof it. Wait out the storm there.”

  “What if he won’t let us inside?”

  “He will.”

  “But—”

  “He will.” Zach had lived through too much to be intimidated by the “business end” of a hunting rifle. They’d weather this freak storm in the safety and warmth of Marx’s cabin. Of that, Zach had no doubt. “Bundle up good. I’ll grab some supplies from the back.”

  “We have to take the Cupcake Lovers Christmas basket,” she said while looping her scarf around her neck. “That’s why we came up here after all. To spread goodwill and cheer.”

  “Whether Marx wants it or not.”

  “One of these days Roscoe Marx will be touched by something or someone and he’ll see the light.” She smiled softly. At Zach. “There’s hope for every Scrooge.”

  Chapter Nine

  “I can’t believe you kept our snowshoes all these years,” Maya yelled over the howling wind.

  “Not me,” Zach yelled back. “Uncle Dan and Aunt Helen. They were hanging in the garage. Same place we always hung them. Saw them the other day. Tossed them into the Hummer before we left. You never know.”

  “And the utility sled! I can’t believe you thought to pack it, too.” Instead of carrying the heavy thermal care basket stocked with cupcakes, can goods, and a small cooked turkey, Zach had piled the Cupcake Lovers’ “present” on a sled specifically made for hauling hunting or camping supplies. He’d also added the insulated tote packed with “snacks” by Helen and Giselle, along with two blankets, a high-powered flashlight, and a medical kit. “Always prepared!” Maya went on. “Like a Boy Scout.”

  “Or a Marine,” he said with a wistful smile.

  Maya’s heart ached, as she knew Zach was feeling lost now that he was no longer on active duty. How many civilian jobs were there for a sharpshooter? A professional sniper? Not counting a hit man. What if Zach never fully recovered from his injuries? Would he even qualify for a desk job with the police? He was smart, resourceful, and experienced. Surely he could land a job in an advisory or teaching capacity. But would he be happy? Fulfilled? One thing was certain: She couldn’t imagine him hawking houses or cars or running an amusement ride at Disney. Not that there was anything wrong with those jobs, but they weren’t Zach.

  Strapped into the snowshoes she’d owned as a teen, Maya glided over the accumulating snowfall rather than sinking in. Once again she was teleported back to her youth when Zach used to take her and some of their other friends hiking in the winter. He’d always been an outdoorsman, always physical. Even now, even with his stilted gait, he navigated this storm with confidence. Since he was wearing a harness that was attached to the sled, his hands were free, enabling him to utilize the walking stick. He seemed to be leaning on it more than before. Trudging uphill in the deep snow while pulling the added weight of their supplies had to be brutal on his bad leg.

  She wanted to offer to help, but she knew he’d take offense. Instead she held silent, allowing him to concentrate on their trek. She couldn’t see twelve inches in front of her what with the blizzard, but he seemed to know exactly where they were heading. When she finally spied the small log cabin nestled in a copse of evergreens, her heart nearly burst with relief. Finally, Zach could get off his feet and she could warm up. Her cheeks and nose were so cold, they hurt.

  Zach touched her arm as they neared the covered porch. “Hang back.”

  “Why?”

  “In case he comes out packing that rifle and a bad attitude.” Zach narrowed his eyes when she jutted her chin. “Humor me.”

  “Hurry.” Maya covered her face with her gloves and blew into her hands, hoping to unthaw her nose. Her pulse raced as Zach abandoned the harness and snowshoes and stepped onto the porch. Daniel had pegged Rosco Marx as more bark than bite, but who knew? If the man felt threatened …

  Zach whistled and motioned her forward.

  She hurried across the frozen lawn, unsnapped the straps on her snowshoes, and joined him at the door. “What are you reading?”

  “A letter from Marx. It was tacked to the door and addressed to the Cupcake Lovers.” He passed it to her while he tried the door. “Locked.”

  Maya read the scrawled note.

  SINCE YOU PERSIST IN FORCING YOUR CHARITY ON ME, THIS TIME I TOOK MYSELF OUT OF THE EQUATION. GONE HUNTING OVER THE BORDER. WON’T BE BACK TILL AFTER CHRISTMAS. GIVE THAT DAMNED BASKET TO SOMEONE WHO NEEDS IT. –ROSCOE MARX

  “How rude,” Maya commented, then gasped when she noticed Zack picking the lock with some pocket tool. “That’s breaking and entering!”

  “Do you want to freeze to death?”

  “Good point.” As soon as the door gave, Maya pushed into the dank, dark cabin. “Although it’s not much better in here.” She flicked a switch. “No electricity.”

  “I’ll check the generator. Hold tight.” Zach went out front, then around back.

  Maya dragged in their supplies. The way the storm continued to rage they could be here all night. She pushed open a curtain, allowing the waning daylight to filter inside. Furnishings were sparse and old and it smelled like stale cigarettes, but at least the place was tidy. Unfortunately, though not a surprise, there wasn’t a holiday decoration to be seen. Not even a menorah or a Charlie Brown Christmas tree.

  She thought about the Coles’ home with its oversized, overdecorated spruce, the singing Santa, the army of nutcrackers. She thought about the pine and cinnamon scents. About the Christmas Eve dinner they’d be having without Maya and Zach. Being stranded in a stinky, cheerless cabin wasn’t the holiday she wanted, and it didn’t help that Zach had distanced himself. She didn’t sense that he was wallowing in self-pity, but she did feel his intensifying cynicism. More than anything, she wanted to vanquish that troubling darkness.

  Maya blinked with a vision and a goal. If she couldn’t provide Roscoe Marx with cheer and goodwill, she’d gift the spirit of Christmas to Zach.

  He clomped back into the cabin just as she shoved a log into the woodstove. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Building a fire, Sherlock.”

  He grunted. “Funny.” Moving in, he dumped an armful of chopped wood into the iron bin. “As it happens we’re on the same wavelength, Watson.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “No luck with the generator?”

  He shook his head. “We’ll have to make do for warmth and light from the woodstove and fireplace. Hopefully the flue isn’t clogged.”

  “I’m thinking we’re probably stuck here for the night.”

  “That’d be my guess.”

  “I know we brought that gift basket for Mr. Marx, but he doesn’t want it and he’s not here. We are.”

  Zach’s lip twitched. “Thinking about filching Marx’s Christmas feast, Maya?”

  “I look at it as not letting good food and intentions go to waste.”

  He smiled full out then and her heart thumped against her ribs. Without another word he moved to the fireplace, and within a couple of minutes Zach had a fire raging in the cobblestoned hearth.

  Maya’s own efforts at the wood-burning stove were successful as well, and she didn’t waste a second breaking into the Cupcake Lovers care basket as well as the thermal tote packed by Helen and Giselle. She arranged the booty on the kitchen counter while Zach ditched his damp outerwear and futzed with his phone. Not getting a strong signal, he switched to Marx’s landline. Thankfully, that worked.

  “Yeah. Hi, Uncle Dan. It’s Zach.”

  Maya raided drawers and cabinets while listening to Zach fill his uncle in on their circumstance. She supposed she should have felt depressed, being away from her parents, the Coles, and Giselle. Being stranded on a mountain in a smelly cabin without an ounce of Christmas cheer. Bu
t instead Maya tingled with the thrill of an adventure. She hadn’t had many adventures lately. And thinking back, she realized her most memorable adrenaline rushes had happened with Zach.

  By the time he signed off with Daniel, the main living area, which included a basic kitchen, had heated up enough that Maya had stripped off her coat and scarf, although she retained her Santa hat—just for the fun of it.

  “Dan said this storm’s finally being reported on the news. Although it’s being referred to as the Ghost Storm. No one can make sense of it.”

  “Mother Nature has a way of keeping us on our toes,” Maya said, unaffected. Utilizing the wood-burning stove, she’d already started heating the turkey, boiled potatoes, and a can of green beans sprinkled with almond slivers. She held up two cans of soup. “Clam Chowder or Cheddar Ale.”

  Zach glanced from the stove to the table she’d set, using a pine-scented candle she’d found in the care basket as the centerpiece. Smiling a little, he looked at Maya, striking her weak in the knees. “You choose.”

  Chapter Ten

  He’d told himself he wasn’t going to pursue the attraction. That he cherished Maya’s friendship too much to screw it up on the off chance that they might click in bed. But as the evening wore on his resolve crumbled.

  Scents from the delicious dinner Maya had whipped up lingered and mingled with the smell of pine wafting from a lone candle and the pleasing aroma of burning wood. While she’d cooked, Maya had hummed and sung Christmas songs, an old-fashioned form of entertainment that had moved Zach deeply as he’d toured around Marx’s cabin, acquainting himself with the grump of Franklin County via random pictures and keepsakes.

  Marx was an army man. A veteran of Vietnam. And near as Zach could tell, Marx had never married. No evidence of a wife or children, ever. Just photos with a few fellow soldiers and a hunting buddy or two. Marx struck Zach as a loner. A man who dwelled in the past. Was he shackled to the war by personal demons? Mentally and emotionally incapable of letting go and moving on? Had he even tried to fit into civilian life? Zach commiserated and at the same time fought the notion of ending up like this himself. Alone and miserable for life.

  Maya’s singing helped to lift his spirits and he suddenly found himself clinging to her goodness and optimism like a lifeline. While they feasted on turkey, soup, and various simple side dishes, she shared several touching stories based on holiday parties she and Giselle had volunteered to cater for local homeless and women’s shelters. Maya spoke casually, as if Cupcakes & Dreamscapes had only played a small role, and focused on the people in need and their heart-tugging stories. But Zach felt the depth of Maya’s and Giselle’s kindness and generosity to the pit of his soul. It certainly shed new light on Giselle and only made Zach love Maya all the more.

  Oh yeah. He’d fallen for Maya Templeton in a way that made his mind swim and his heart ache. He was the moon to her sun, the rain to her rainbow. He was the exact opposite of what he wanted for her, yet he didn’t want to miss out on what she offered him. Hope. Happiness.

  Even if only for tonight.

  “Thank you for helping me clean up,” she said to Zach after they’d cleared away the remaining food and dishes.

  “Sure.” He watched as she dried her hands on a ratty dishcloth. Her long hair was still tousled from the wind. Sexy. Even the Santa hat was a turn-on. All she had to do was lose the reindeer sweater and a few more layers and he’d be a goner.

  “Have room left for dessert?” she asked.

  “Let me guess. Cupcakes?”

  She smiled and his heart skipped. “Why don’t we have them in front of the fireplace?” she suggested. “There’s a bottle of red wine, too, although it has a screw cap. How good can it be?”

  “Who cares? You get the glasses. I’ll fix us a pallet.” Trying to get in the spirit and wanting to make the evening as festive as possible for Maya’s sake, Zach pulled Marx’s bearskin rug closer to the hearth. He shook out the comforter and blanket he’d brought along, draping them over the furry hide, then nabbed the pillows he’d found on Marx’s bed, shimmying them into fresh pillowcases he’d found in a closet.

  “Oh, wow,” Maya said as she joined him, wine bottle and two plastic tumblers in hand.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m not high on sleeping in Marx’s bed. It’s cold in that room and it just feels wrong.”

  “I agree,” Maya said. “This is great. Sort of like a slumber party.”

  Zach noted her bright pink cheeks. Flushed in anticipation of sleeping together? Or because of her close proximity to the crackling hearth? “I’ll pour the wine,” he said, freeing up her hands. “You get the cupcakes.”

  Pain shot up his left leg as he lowered himself onto their makeshift bed. Like always he ignored the discomfort. Even when he’d been hospitalized, both legs in traction, he’d never once complained. His injuries were nothing compared to his partner’s loss of life. Zach took a bullet in his right thigh and left shin, and he’d broken multiple bones in both legs in a fierce tumble down the mountainside. He might’ve made a clean escape if he’d left Ben’s body behind, but that hadn’t been an option. Even though Zach had failed to complete that mission, he didn’t regret the effort.

  Pushing away dismal memories, Zach shed his boots and poured two tumblers of bargain wine.

  Maya sank down beside him, placing a plate of assorted cupcakes on the floor. She kicked off her own boots and swept off the Santa cap, looking more serious than she had all afternoon. “There’s something I want to say.”

  “Okay.”

  “If I don’t it will fester. I want to get it out there and then we can move on.”

  Heart thudding, Zach calmly passed her a tumbler of wine.

  “I know you don’t want to talk about it, Zach, and I don’t blame you. But I want you to know I’m sorry about Ben.”

  Holding her tender gaze was tough, but Zach did it. “I feel like I failed him.”

  “Do you think he’d feel that way?”

  Zach searched his soul. “No.”

  “From what little you told me about Ben, I think he’d be miffed if he knew you were struggling with guilt.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “You’re a good man, Zach.”

  “So was Ben.”

  “All right then. Rather than mourn his death, why not celebrate his life.” She raised her glass and crooked a tender smile. “To Ben.”

  Overwhelmed, Zack tapped his glass to hers. “To Ben.” She and Zach both drank deeply, and even though the wine was bitter, a wisp of sweet serenity flowed through his tortured being. He waited for Maya to press for details regarding the ambush. When she didn’t, his spirits lifted even more. Last night she’d told him she’d be available if he ever wanted to talk about it. At the time, he’d brushed off the offer. Now he tucked it away for the day he was ready.

  He picked up the dessert plate and studied six festive cupcakes by the light of the fire. “What do you think we have here, O baking expert?”

  She grinned. “Not sure. Let’s taste and see.”

  They both took a cupcake and sampled.

  Maya chewed and groaned. “Mmm. Mine’s maple with a kick of cayenne. Butter crème icing.”

  Zach swallowed a mouthful of savory delight. “Chocolate.”

  She rolled her eyes. “We’re talking the Cupcake Lovers here. Can’t just be plain ol’ chocolate.” She leaned in. “Gimme a taste.”

  Zach fed her, his nads tightening when she licked icing from his fingers.

  “Devil’s food,” she said in a husky voice. “With raspberry ganache and milk-chocolate frosting.”

  Logs crackled in the hearth, the flames flickering throughout the darkened room and bathing Maya’s beautiful face in a soft, enticing glow.

  Zach edged closer, accepting the invitation sparkling in her eyes. Coating his finger in chocolate frosting, he smeared the sticky delight over her lower lip, then savored. “Not marmalade,” he said, slipping her sweater from her shoulders and eyeing her cr
eamy skin, “but it is sweet.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Maya woke with a start, bolting upright, senses whirling. “What was that?”

  “Just a log crackling and shifting in the hearth,” Zach said. He placed a strong hand at the base of her bare back. “You’re safe, honey. Go back to sleep.”

  “I don’t know that I can.” She couldn’t believe she’d drifted off in the first place, but she’d been so sated from their lovemaking and the wine, somewhere in the night she’d fallen asleep in Zach’s arms. “What time is it?”

  “Not even midnight.”

  “I can’t believe that storm’s still at it.” She hugged a blanket to her chest, shivering as the wind howled and the windowpanes rattled. “Ghost Storm is an apt name. It’s downright spooky.”

  “It’ll pass.” Zach pulled her back down on the soft pallet. Braced on one elbow, he gazed down into her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

  Her sleepy pulse tripped. “You mean about what we did?”

  “Any regrets?”

  Her body hummed in memory of Zach’s sensuous touch. “Only that it ended so soon.”

  He frowned. “You weren’t satisfied?”

  “I was,” she teased. “But that was then and this is now. Call me shallow, but the way those flames are dancing over your hunky body I’m feeling sort of frisky just now. Plus, I could use a distraction.”

  “From the storm?”

  From my thoughts. Now that she was awake, her mind churned with the realization that she’d fallen in love, true love, with Zachery Cole. Maybe she’d always loved him, but it hadn’t fully blossomed until they’d made love. She didn’t want tonight to end and yet she knew it would. The question was, what would tomorrow bring? Dare she hope for a Christmas miracle? For a happily ever after with her tortured best friend. “I never knew it could be like that. I mean, it’s not like I’m a virgin, but I’ve never felt that kind of connection. That kind of intense pleasure. I mean I had three orgasms. Three.”