Robyn

by Lucy McConnell

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t reward you when you run away. You know that.” Years of counseling should have taught Nick something. But no, he always had to push. Always had to try Gabe’s patience. He hit the brakes hard at a yellow light, throwing them both forward.

  “You’re such a jerk.” Nick glared out the window.

  Gabe turned in his seat. “You think I wouldn’t like to have an easy evening hanging out with you? You think I spend all day looking for ways to ruin your life? Dude, I would love to have my little brother back.” The light changed to green, illuminating the dashboard.

  Nick glared at his feet.

  Gabe turned forward and drove them home in strained silence.

  Just as he opened the door, Nick said, “I wish I had a real family.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m all you’ve got,” Gabe fired back, barely biting off the and I’m the only one who wanted you that tried to slip out with that jab.

  Nick slammed the door behind him and ran in the house. Gabe turned off the engine and let the cold seep into the truck and wrap its bony fingers around him. Truth was, he wished the same thing. Parenting would be a heck of a lot easier if he had someone to share it with. His neighbor’s lights flashed, and the plastic Santa out front waved cheerily. As a kid, he’d wished so many times for a real family that he’d lost count of the wishes. But wishing never made anything happen, and he’d learned fast that the only person he could count on was himself.

  He shoved aside the hollow feeling in his heart and pushed open the truck door. No matter how hard Nick pushed, Gabe would stand firm, because his brother deserved to have someone who cared. Maybe one day Gabe could focus on finding someone special. This just wasn’t the time.

  And Robyn wasn’t that woman. She was much too … cheerful … cultured … sketch. He chuckled inside as he remembered the light in her eyes at being labeled a troublemaker. He’d believed her when she said she’d never been called that before.

  Even though he shouldn’t think about her, he looked forward to seeing Robyn tomorrow. He’d checked the schedule, and she was a contestant on Thirty-Minute Match. He didn’t love the idea of her on a dating game, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. Besides, it wasn’t like those dates ever turned into anything serious. In the two seasons the show had been on, not one real love match came out of it. There were rumors the network was going to shut it down.

  Even though he shouldn’t, he decided that a moment of flirting with her—should the opportunity arise—would be enough to get him through the holidays. Just the thought of a stolen moment with her lifted his heart enough that he was able to head inside and face the stone-cold silence from his little brother.

  Chapter 4

  Robyn

  Robyn popped a chocolate-covered cherry in her mouth to soothe her nerves. She could really go for something stronger, like a pixie stick with all that sugary goodness, because her nerves were through the roof. Being on television was worse than riding in the sleigh with Stella at the reins and Prancer flying out front. That crazy reindeer had almost flown them into the side of a mountain. When Robyn protested, he had the audacity to snicker. Tomorrow they’d bring Starling—she was the mother hen of the herd. Her hide was almost white, so when she was coupled to a white sleigh, she’d be camouflaged on the roof. Prancer could stay in the stables and think about his attitude!

  “We’re looking for a real love match here,” Stella told the executive producer, Jerry. “We want to find the love of Robyn’s life.”

  He nodded while flipping through papers on a clipboard and making notes. “That’s our goal too.”

  “Right.” Stella winked at Robyn.

  The wink did nothing to calm Robyn’s nerves. When Stella was crafty, things tended to get out of hand for those around her.

  “But we want the works—really pull out the stops for this girl.”

  Jerry shook his head, never looking up from his papers. “Look, we don’t do special treatment for any contestant.”

  Stella templed her fingers and tapped them on her chin. “What if I could promise you a wedding before Christmas? Would that interest your viewers?”

  Jerry snapped the papers in place and turned his full attention to Stella. “Are you serious?” He rotated to Robyn. “You’d be willing to get married on camera this Christmas?”

  “Well, uh …” Robyn glared at Stella. “I’ve always loved the idea of a Christmas wedding,” she said weakly. Jerry’s need for higher ratings and an in with the network to score some prime holiday time practically screamed at her. She had a hard time turning down the volume on her Santa gift so she could hear what he was saying.

  “… A Thirty-Minute Match Christmas special.” His hand formed a rainbow through the air in front of them. “Following you from this show to dating, to engagement, to surprise wedding—well, surprise for our viewers. There’s a lot of work to do, but I think we could pull this off. We just need to film this episode first and get you a guy.” He smacked his open palm against the clipboard, making Robyn jump.

  She eyed the sugar packets on the drink table. Would anyone notice if she downed a few of those before the cameras turned on? Jerry was in full swing, counting the zeroes on his January paycheck and accepting his wife’s congratulations. Aw, he really loved her and wanted to make her proud. This show was his baby, and it was failing, costing him hours at home with his family and putting a strain on his marriage. Robyn could be the key to making so many things in his life go right.

  Her head swam with the urgency to solve Jerry’s problems. Curse her Santa gift—she was twirling out of control. Stella put a steadying hand on her arm. Physical contact helped break up the waves. She reached for her sister and held on.

  Jerry checked his watch. “We’ve got twenty minutes before filming. Let’s talk to the director and see what she thinks.”

  “Yes, let’s.” Stella took his arm and hustled him away. She threw a look over her shoulder, probably to make sure Robyn hadn’t passed out.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Robyn said to their backs, “I’ll just hang out here.” She flipped on her heel and went for the drink station, ripped open a sugar packet, and threw it back. Hmmm. Better.

  She took in the other offerings. Coffee but no cocoa. What a shame. Sugar was great, but nothing beat the soothing effects of a good hot chocolate. She reached into her magical Kringle bag and wished for a Christmas mug in the shape of a tree and some of her favorite hot chocolate mix. She preferred to make cocoa on the stove with cream and melted Italian chocolate, but this would have to do. The hot water dispenser didn’t disappoint, and soon she was sipping liquid coping skills.

  She turned, and her eyes fell on the security guard who had called her sketchy yesterday. Gabe. He was like a ganache—thick, tempting, and delicious. A uniform did good things for him, but she wondered what he’d look like in loose pajama bottoms and a tight tee shirt. Her heart flipped over, and her grip loosened on the mug. She caught it before she dropped it completely and scolded herself for almost spilling.

  She hadn’t expected to see him again, not after scouring the lobby for him when they’d first walked in. But there he was in his handsome black security uniform, his hair neatly combed and his muscles all muscly. She glanced quickly away, lest he catch her staring.

  All it took was that one lengthy perusal, and the link was established between his needs and her Santa sense. Her head rang with his exhaustion. He needed sleep. And … she cocked her head … food. Not junk food, but hearty comfort food.

  Before she knew what she was doing, her hand was in her purse, wishing for a warm banana muffin. Her feet carried her across the room, a need to answer the siren call to bring cheer to the cheerless. “You look like you could use this.” She lifted the bag, the scent of warm cinnamon filling the air between them. She stared at the ground, embarrassed at being so forward but unable to back away.

  “Thanks?” He took the sack and opened it, drawing in a deep breath. �
��Did you make this?”

  His question triggered yet another of her Santa-inherited qualities—the inability to tell a lie. Four out of the five sisters had gotten Santa’s truth-telling gene. Frost, the one who didn’t, had kept a deep, dark secret right up until Christmas last year.

  Robyn scrambled for an appropriate response. Saying she had a magic purse that fulfilled her wishes would have her hauled off to the looney bin. But the pressure inside her throat, the one that squeezed until the truth came out, forced her to say something. “It’s a special recipe,” she rushed out. Which it was—because it was made by her purse and that was special. Her throat relaxed and she sighed with relief.

  Robyn watched with interest as he took a bite. Her baked goods, whether they came from a purse or from an oven, were food for the soul, not just the stomach. Ask any child which tasted better, a chocolate Santa from the store or one found in their stocking on Christmas morning, and they’d tell you—the stocking chocolate was better. Why? Because Robyn added a dash of Christmas Magic to each recipe.

  Also, a warm muffin could do wonders for a person’s outlook on life.

  Case in point, the Magic worked Gabe over with the first bite. His eyes grew brighter and opened wider, his skin lost its sallow appearance, and the shadows under his eyes disappeared. Still, there was something missing …

  “You need cocoa!” She hurried back to the table, made her wishes, and returned with a steaming mug.

  He grinned, taking a tentative sip. The tightness around his eyes melted away. “Thanks, Sketch. That was just what I needed.”

  Her whole body tingled at the nickname, or maybe it was the way his eyes took her in. Like he saw her and liked what he saw. “I know.”

  His eyebrows pulled together, and she wanted to reach up and smooth them back out. “How’d you know?” he asked.

  Her throat began to tighten. “Everyone needs cocoa at Christmas time,” she rushed to say. The strain lessened. She’d forgotten what it was like to talk to someone outside of her family. She needed to be more careful about what popped out of her mouth.

  Gabe chuckled. He had a cleft in his chin she hadn’t noticed the day before. She liked it.

  Robyn tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, ruining the perfectly mussed look Stella had worked so hard to create. A lighting technician walked by, and the strong sense of loneliness tugged at her Santa sense. As much as she wanted to stand there and bask in Gabe’s royal-blue eyes—set off beautifully by his black shirt—the wardrobe supervisor needed mint tea to calm her stomach and soothe her worries over spending the holidays with her boyfriend’s family. And the set director had a powerful hankering for strawberry streusel. “I, uh, need to check on a few people.” She stepped backward, easing the internal demand that she act now to spread cheer.

  “Thanks again.” Gabe lifted the mug in a salute.

  Robyn grinned. Every year she baked for the whole world without expecting a thank-you. The words were like warm caramel drizzled over her heart. “You’re welcome.”

  Her hand was already in her purse, retrieving a pastry for the set director. She flipped around so she wouldn’t run into anyone and handed off the goodie with a smile.

  He was surprised but pleased. “Wow! I was just thinking about my mom’s streusel. This is amazing.”

  “Merry Christmas.” She hurried over to hold a ladder for a sound technician.

  While she stood there, she gave an intern a pen when hers ran out of ink.

  When the technician hopped down, she headed for the kitchen prep area to open a bottle of olives for the caterer. A blur of “Merry Christmases” and “Happy Holidays” followed like a tornado. Actually, she was the tornado, meeting as many needs as possible. Jenn wanted to talk about her recent breakup. Brad had a crush on a woman in his building and needed a pickup line—Robyn handed him a box of mint truffles. “Trust me, she’ll love them.”

  He grinned. “I’m going to give them to her as a neighbor gift.”

  “Perfect.”

  Robyn lifted on her toes. The room buzzed with energy and fizzed with holiday cheer. She dusted off her palms. Behind her, the hallway to the main offices called. Someone couldn’t find a stapler. In seconds, she knocked on the accountant’s door and offered to organize his top drawer. That was his real need.

  She was refilling the janitor’s glass cleaner when Stella threw open the supply door closet. “There you are!” She rushed in and took Robyn by the hand.

  The contact jolted Robyn out of her compulsive need to serve others and allowed her to re-center her thoughts. She blinked several times.

  “We’ve been looking all over for you,” Stella scolded her.

  Robyn tuned in to her sister. Stella needed for this show to go well. Though why her sister was so invested in Thirty-Minute Match escaped her. That was one problem with her Santa gift—it didn’t always give motives. Some physical ailments were easy to spot; a lot of that was reading body language. Emotional reasoning was complex and layered and not as easily deciphered. She took in her surroundings, unsure how she’d ended up so far away from the studio.

  “Robyn!” called the receptionist, Sarah. “I followed your advice and called my mom. You were so right. She and Dad want to go on the cruise with me this Christmas. We’ve booked our tickets.”

  Robyn glowed with the joy flowing off her new friend. “Have a great time. Don’t forget the sunscreen.”

  Stella tugged her arm. “Can you put a cork in Miss Nice List for a bit? We have work to do.”

  “I tried,” Robyn protested. “I was doing fantastic until …” She nodded her head toward Gabe, who was standing against the wall. He couldn’t blend in if he tried. He was like a gourmet cupcake amidst cookie crumbs. Robyn leaned toward him, reaching for his needs.

  “No!” Stella jumped between them and dropped her hand over Robyn’s eyes. “I have worked too hard to get you into this show and find you a husband. Focus.”

  “Right.” Robyn repeated the word focus over and over in her head as they made their way onto the blue carpet. The set was arranged so that she was seated next to a podium where the host, Brian Douglas, would direct the question-and-answer period of the show.

  Stella sat her in the gray chair, adjusting her hair and lifting her chin, shoving her shoulders back and tucking her ankles together as if she were a Barbie doll on display.

  Robyn tolerated it because, when it came right down to it, she needed to find a husband. The North Pole was melting, and if she didn’t fall in love—true love—then her whole world would melt away.

  Chapter 5

  Gabe

  Gabe watched Stella arrange Robyn on set. He’d worked Thirty-Minute Match dozens of times and had never seen a contestant come in with a handler. Mother? Yes. Best friend? Sure. But an agent type person who arranged each hair in place and dusted her cheeks with something shimmery was a first.

  All morning, Robyn had bounced from one person to another, doing whatever she could to lighten the load. Her energy seemed endless, and she never asked for anything in return. The crew adored her now. Who wouldn’t love a beautiful woman handing out baked goods and office supplies?

  He could use some of that energy. If he bottled it up and sold it on QVC, he could make a fortune.

  Also, he felt really good. Too good for the rough night he’d had listening for Nick to sneak out again. He hadn’t, but that didn’t mean Gabe could relax. The cat-and-mouse game was exhausting. Why couldn’t Nick see how good he had it? Gabe would have given anything to have the same address for longer than a year and an older sibling to watch over him. Instead of being grateful, Nick resented every step Gabe took to parent him, including checking up on his grades. Logging into the school website last night was a bad idea and only brought Gabe’s spirits lower. The whole situation made him feel like a failure. Worse, he had no idea how to change things.

  So, the fact that his chest was all warm and happy had him worried that Robyn had drugged him with that muffin. He
wasn’t the only one. Goofy smiles followed all the treats she’d handed out. She’d said something about a special recipe. He narrowed his eyes as he scoped the room and casually sniffed his fingers. He’d have to keep an eye on this girl.

  Not an entirely horrible prospect, as she was the prettiest woman in the room.

  The lights dimmed, and the director’s assistant called for quiet on the set.

  Gabe clasped his hands in front of him and tried to watch the doors more than Robyn. His eyes were drawn to her of their own accord, and he had to count to three to get them to move about the room again.

  Brian’s booming voice filled the cavern. “Welcome to Thirty-Minute Match!”

  The intro music came through the speakers, and the small screens above the cameras showed a live feed of the opening sequence, describing how the show worked. One lucky lady, Robyn’s smiling face, appeared on-screen.

  “She has great presence,” whispered the assistant director to the director, Chelsea.

  “Her slight shyness will have the country falling in love with her before she speaks,” answered Chelsea, her voice full of greedy pleasure.

  Gabe’s protective instincts perked up. It was one thing for Robyn to be on the show, but another to exploit her. He’d caught snippets of rumors floating around about a Christmas special. Which would be great, because it meant extra money. He’d been careful to save up so he didn’t have to bag groceries over the break. He hated going back to the store and seeing the pity in the manager’s eyes.

  “Let’s meet our men hoping for a match today!” Brain gave the camera his game-show grin. “First up is Kylo. Kylo is twenty-eight and works in a motorcycle repair shop.”

  Kylo gave the camera a smirk as he walked to his seat on the other side of the partition from Robyn. He had tats running up his arms and going up his neck wrapping around his ear. His dark eyes glinted with danger. His jeans were old and frayed, and his tee shirt was two sizes too small.