'Tis the Season for Romance

by Kristen Proby

  Knox nodded. “No problem.”

  My hands fisted at my sides and I sucked in a calming breath as he strode from the room, his smile fixed on Cleo. I was too damn tired for this. All I wanted was to get on an airplane and nap until I was in California.

  Last night had been miserable. When Cleo had come out of the bathroom, fresh-faced and smelling like honey, I’d known that sleeping beside her hadn’t been an option. So I’d left to check out the hotel.

  It wasn’t a big building, nothing like the swank resorts I’d seen while traveling a few times with Ray. My whole inspection had taken less than an hour.

  I’d done it twice.

  Then I’d stepped outside, thinking I’d look around town a bit, but when the freezing cold had bitten into my skin, I’d retreated inside. I’d spent hours in the lobby, sitting in front of the fire, staring at the flames, hoping that if I waited long enough, Cleo would be asleep. When my eyelids had been too heavy to fight, I’d called it quits and returned to the room.

  Cleo had been facedown in a pillow, those perfect pink lips parted enough to let a slight snore slip free. She’d barely blinked as I’d come in and made myself uncomfortable on the floor. At least the hotel had a plush carpet instead of the industrial carpets in most places.

  I’d fallen asleep to Cleo’s snores. I’d woken up to a kick in the gut.

  I hadn’t meant to fall asleep after she’d tripped over me. I’d planned to let her go search out coffee, thinking she’d bring some back for the both of us. Hours later, when I’d realized how much time had passed with me sleeping on her pillow, I’d flown into a panic.

  This was why it wasn’t safe for me to watch her. I let my guard down whenever I found her with flour in her chocolate hair, like there was now. She always seemed to leave a streak beside her left ear.

  “I’m sorry about this morning,” she said. “If it makes you feel better, Knox wasn’t too happy to find me here either.”

  I grunted.

  Unhappy? Yeah, right. That guy had been drooling over her and they sure seemed like fast friends. And she was into chefs.

  Cleo had dated one last year, a guy who worked at a restaurant a few blocks down from Crumbs. Their relationship had been brief but painful. Every day, I’d get a report from whoever was assigned her detail on exactly what she and Chef John had done. Dinner. Movie. Make-out session in his car.

  Those had been an agonizing three weeks and six days.

  Cleo gave me a small smile. “Merry Christmas Eve.”

  “Merry Christmas Eve.”

  “Are you sure you’re not hungry?”

  I nodded. “I’m good.”

  “Here.” She put one of the muffins on a plate and held it out. “Try this.”

  “It’s okay.” I held up a hand. “I’m not hungry.” Worrying about her had put a knot in my stomach that had yet to shake loose.

  “Just try it.” She walked around the table, bringing me the plate.

  “I don’t want a muffin.”

  “But if you try it, you might like it.”

  “I don’t want it, Cleo.”

  “But if you try it—”

  “I don’t want a goddamn muffin,” I snapped, instantly regretting it when her face fell. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

  She tossed the plate aside, the ceramic bouncing and the muffin rolling off the plate, dropping over the edge of the table to the floor. “Fine.”

  Her fingers flew to the ties on her apron, ripping and tugging until it was free. Then she yanked it over her head, balled it up and threw it.

  At my face.

  The white cloth and a cloud of flour smacked me in the nose before I could block it. When I set the apron aside, Cleo was marching for the door.

  “Damn it.” I shook my head, giving her a head start before chasing out of the kitchen after her. I caught her in the lobby on the way to the elevator. “Look, I’m sorr—”

  My phone rang. I tugged it out of my pocket, Ray’s name flashing on the screen. Shit.

  “Cleo, wait.”

  She didn’t listen. She pushed the up arrow and the second the doors slid open, she disappeared inside.

  I wasn’t sure which Hillcrest to deal with first. I decided on the less terrifying of the two and answered my phone. “Ray.”

  “Austin, I understand you sent the pilot home with the plane yesterday. An empty plane.”

  “Yes, I sent him home. Cleo didn’t want to leave so I agreed to stay one night.”

  “Together?”

  “Yes, sir.” There was no point in avoiding details. “The hotel was sold out. I slept on the floor.”

  His silence was reaction enough.

  “We’ll be leaving for the airport soon,” I said.

  “She’s not answering my calls. Tell her I expect her to come straight here when you arrive.”

  Ray didn’t wait for my confirmation before ending the call. He didn’t need agreement. He’d issued an order and I would see it through.

  One more year. I had to make it through one more year of working with Ray, then I’d take a pay cut from my own salary and cut him loose. But I had to make it another year. Two would be ideal, but one minimum.

  Channing was two years away from graduating college and I refused to let my brother go into debt while he earned his degree. I also refused to let my mother go into debt paying for his education.

  Mom had sacrificed enough for us both. All I wanted was for her to sail into retirement and enjoy an easier pace of life.

  She’d worked tirelessly my entire life to provide for me and Channing. Christmas hadn’t ever been the lavish affair it was for the Hillcrests, but Mom had spoiled us in her own way, with one big gift that she saved for and chose with care. On our birthdays, she’d bake us a special cake.

  I’d never cared that my jeans were secondhand and my shoes weren’t name brand. For a long time, it had been Mom and me, the Myles team.

  Dad had died in a work accident when I’d been three, and though they’d had some money stashed away, she’d used it to pay off our house so we’d never have to move. She’d given me that stability. Then when I’d been in middle school, she’d introduced me to the mailman who’d become more than a mailman.

  Eddy had been a good man. A good father and stepfather. A good husband.

  He’d died before Channing’s second birthday. Cancer.

  I was thirteen years older than Channing and after Eddy passed, I’d done all I could to help Mom raise him. She hadn’t needed my help—as far as humans went, my mother was the strongest on earth. But I’d helped regardless. She’d endured enough.

  Mom and I had both insisted that Channing get a college degree. He had the brains for it and I made a decent profit each year to pay for it.

  But I needed Ray.

  Even though I wanted Cleo.

  I walked to the elevator and pushed the button, unsure of what I’d find when I made it to the fourth floor. Hopefully Cleo standing beside a packed suitcase. Instead, I stepped into the room and was hit with a cloud of honeyed steam billowing from the bottom of the bathroom door. The shower was running.

  This woman truly hated me.

  How was I supposed to sit in here when she was naked twenty feet away? I spun for the door, escaping the room and that luscious smell. No matter how cold it was outside, I had to get the hell out of this building.

  The elevator would be too slow, so I found the staircase, jogged to the first floor and took the nearest door marked exit.

  The cold air was a son of a bitch, biting into my flesh, but I gritted my teeth, cursing this miserable state with every step toward the coffee shop. When I walked inside, the patrons all stared. Probably because I was the idiot Californian in Montana without a damn coat.

  I stomped to the counter, dug out my wallet and slapped it on the counter. “Black coffee. Hot as you can make it. Then a muffin and a scone. Please.”

  The barista nodded and left me to prepare my order.

  With my food and dri
nk in hand, I found an empty table as far away from the door as I could get. I inhaled the muffin before taking a bite. It was good, not incredible, but I was starving. Cleo had been right about that.

  Buying other people’s baked goods had become this sick game. Nothing was ever as good as the food Cleo tried to force-feed me, the food I pretended was marginal at best. Instead of marveling at the culinary creations made by a woman I couldn’t have, I ate from other bakers.

  Because there were other bakers in the world. Just like there were other women.

  I inhaled the muffin and scone, scalding my tongue on the coffee, then checked my watch. Cleo normally took an hour to get ready for the day.

  I’d spent enough mornings in my car before dawn, watching her lights turn on around the house before she pulled out of her garage almost exactly sixty minutes later and drove to work. Now that she knew about her security detail, there was no point in keeping up the act. It would be smart for her to vary the routine once in a while too.

  My team was trained and damn good at blending into the shadows, but so were criminals. If something happened to her . . .

  I shoved that thought away and chugged a burning gulp of coffee. Nothing was going to happen to Cleo. She would be fine. Even when I quit working for Ray, he’d find someone equally as capable to keep her safe.

  Besides, this morning was a good example of how my game slipped when she was around.

  After twenty minutes of waiting, Cleo had had enough time to get out of the shower and put some clothes on, so I took my muffin wrapper to the trash, nodded a silent thanks to the barista and set out into the Arctic.

  My teeth chattered as I made my way to the hotel. My goose bumps had goose bumps. Why hadn’t I brought a damn coat? Right. Because the plan had been to get in and get out.

  The hotel lobby was quiet as I walked for the staircase, hoping four flights would warm me up. When I reached the room and slid my key card into the door, Cleo’s scent hit me once more and sent a rush of blood to my groin.

  I was tempted to plug my nose. Instead, I opted to breathe through my mouth.

  The door to the bathroom flew open and Cleo emerged, her hair wet and twisted in a knot. Her face was bare and flushed from the shower, but at least she was dressed. Her designer distressed jeans fit like a second skin and her black tank top left none of her curves to my imagination.

  Fuck, she looked beautiful. Stunning, really. There wasn’t a Hollywood starlet who could rival Cleo’s beauty. My heart skipped and my throat went dry.

  I dropped my eyes to the floor. “We missed the morning flight, but there’s another at three.”

  We’d get to California late, but at least we’d be home and we could go our separate ways. This was the most time I’d spent with Cleo lately and it was too much. She was too perfect. Too irresistible. I didn’t trust myself not to lose the stern and rude disguise.

  And without those acting as a barrier to my true emotions, she would see right through me.

  That was not a conversation I wanted to have on Christmas.

  “Do you need help with your suitcase?” I asked.

  “Oh, I’m not going.”

  “What?” My face whipped up as she disappeared into the bathroom. I followed. “Say that again.”

  “I’m not going,” she told me through the mirror as she untied her hair and picked up a paddle brush, dragging it carefully through her long locks. “I booked this vacation. I’m taking it.”

  “Goddamn, you are difficult.”

  “Difficult?” Her brushstrokes moved faster. “How am I difficult? I don’t want to leave. I don’t have to leave.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “I’ll call my father and explain. If you’re worried about your job, don’t be.”

  “If I don’t bring you home, you and I both know Ray will fire me before the new year.”

  “No, he won’t. I’ll make sure he understands this was my decision and that if he fires you, I’ll never speak to him again.”

  I believed her.

  She’d fight for my job. She’d go head-to-head against her father.

  Even though she hated me.

  Because Cleo Hillcrest was the finest person I’d ever met. It would be unfair of Ray to fire me, and she knew it. She fought for what was right. Cleo had a pure heart and a kind soul. She put others before herself, which was why this jaunt to Montana was so strange. She might hate the Hillcrest Christmas fiasco, but for years I’d watched her endure it because her father had asked her to.

  I didn’t blame her for needing an escape, but I wouldn’t risk her safety for it.

  “I can’t leave you here,” I said. I couldn’t leave her, period.

  Maybe the real reason I didn’t want to cleave my relationship with Ray was because that meant I’d lose my connection to Cleo. Even on the days when she was assigned to someone else, I had that tether. Cutting it was probably for the best. My sanity was on the brink as it was. But I couldn’t leave her.

  Cleo set her brush down, turning to me with a sigh. “I’m going to relax and enjoy this room. I’m going to wander around town and eat too much. Then I’ll come home after Christmas and get back to work. I’m fine alone.”

  She stepped closer and the room shrank. My heart raced as she looked up at me with those bright hazel eyes and in that moment, I would have promised her the world for just one kiss of those soft lips.

  “Go home, Austin. Please. Go home.”

  The plea in her voice did me in. This was one of the few times I’d witnessed Cleo say to hell with what everyone else wanted and go her own way. She wanted this vacation and I wouldn’t be the man who stole it from her.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  A smile tugged at her mouth. “Thank you.”

  I swallowed hard, unable to tear my eyes away. Her lips were soft and pink. The bottom was fuller than the top, but not by much. Just enough for a sexy, natural pout. What would happen if I kissed her? What would happen if I gave in to the temptation?

  Cleo would knee me in the balls.

  I’d lose my contract with Ray, and he’d destroy my reputation.

  My employees would be jobless and I’d ruin my company.

  Kissing her . . . it would be almost worth it.

  “Austin,” she whispered, forcing my eyes to hers.

  Cleo’s head cocked to the side. Her eyebrows came together.

  And I took a step away.

  “I’ll let your father know we’re staying.”

  She nodded as I took another step back, but before I could leave the bathroom, her hand shot out and wrapped around my elbow. “Wait. What do you mean ‘we’?”

  Chapter 6

  Cleo

  “What about this one?”

  “I don’t care,” Austin muttered.

  I frowned and went to the next style on the rack of men’s coats. “This one?”

  “I don’t care.”

  That was the sixth I don’t care since we’d arrived at Quincy Farm and Feed. “You have to buy a coat.”

  “Why?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Your lips are blue.” My eyes dropped to his mouth. The purple tinge wasn’t as attractive as their normal pink color, but I wanted to kiss them regardless. Just once. Since that wasn’t going to happen, I focused on the task at hand and took a hunter-green coat off its hanger. “Here.”

  He took it from my hands and draped it over his arm.

  “Put it on.” It was an extra-large so I was sure it would fit.

  “Don’t you think we should buy it first? Unless you have more shopping to do.”

  “No.” This was a nice enough store, but I wasn’t in the market for farm supplies and bulk pet food. The only reason we’d come here was because we’d learned at the hotel that this was the only store in town open on Christmas Eve that carried men’s coats.

  Austin had argued that if we stayed indoors, the coat was unnecessary. May
be he was fine sitting on the bed, working on his laptop while I watched TV, but I was most definitely not. Close proximity to Austin was not an option.

  Either he’d do something to piss me off and I’d be forced to smother that handsome face in a down pillow. Or he’d give me one of those rare gifts, a small smile or a gentle look, like the one he’d given me in the bathroom when he’d relented to this vacation.

  Those precious moments, though very few and very far between, were like pouring gasoline on my crush’s fire.

  I lived for those moments. If the two of us were trapped in a hotel room, I might forget myself and do something epically humiliating and stupid. Like lick the stubble on his face as if it were cream cheese frosting.

  Yummy.

  Smothering and licking were not options, so instead, I’d dragged Austin out of the hotel. My agenda for the holiday had been completely upended. Though I did like to wander.

  “Okay, let’s go.” I led the way to the checkout counter. “I’ll pay for it.”

  Austin scowled and stepped close, forcing me away from the credit card reader with that beefy physique. He dug his wallet from his jeans, bought the coat and ripped the tags free, shrugging it on before walking to the door.

  “Anywhere you want to go?” I asked, looking up and down the sidewalk.

  “California.”

  “No one’s stopping you,” I singsonged with a saccharine smile. Before we’d ventured out of the room, I’d spent a solid twenty minutes attempting to convince him to go home without me. The stubborn ass had refused.

  Austin gave me a look that said he wasn’t having that debate again.

  “Fine,” I muttered. “If you’re going to stay here with me, is there anything you’d like to see?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Austin stared at me, his mouth clamped shut. He did this a lot. I’d repeat a question, double-checking because double-checking was polite, thank you very much. But he’d just stand there, silently reminding me that he’d already given his answer and it wasn’t going to change.

  I threw my hands in the air and spun around. “Then I’ll decide.”