Winter Heat

by Kennedy Fox

  Especially since he was obviously a city boy of some sort. He probably wouldn’t notice the difference in cost.

  Callum nodded to another coffee sitting just behind his stack. “That’s yours if you’d like to quench your thirst.”

  I glanced down at the coffee. My coffee. It wasn’t terribly original, but when it came to Macy’s strong brew, I needed the sweetness of vanilla and milk with a dash of honey. Honey being her secret ingredient for me. It had taken two years for her to tell me what it was.

  “Why did you get my drink?”

  “For you, of course.”

  “I’m working.”

  “You work in a café. I’m pretty sure you’re going to drink the product sometime.”

  I gathered the cups. “I’m fine.”

  “Suit yourself,” he called after me.

  I picked up the pace and dumped the mugs in my bin and brought it all into the back. Macy was waiting there for me.

  “So, what’s the story?”

  “There isn’t a story.” I moved to the dishwasher and started stacking mugs and cups into the correct slots.

  “Oh, there’s a story. He’s been sniffing after you for hours now.”

  “Right. It’s been awhile. Shouldn’t you be heading home anyway? You never stay away from Michael this long.”

  “He’s with Grumps for the afternoon. Don’t change the subject.”

  I gripped the edge of the counter. “I don’t know why he’s still here.”

  “Zzzt. Try again.”

  I huffed out a breath. “It’s stupid, and he’s just being stubborn. He’ll go away soon.”

  “Considering he’s spent about eighty bucks here, not including those big tips—I don’t think so.”

  “Eighty? What are you charging him?”

  Macy shrugged. “He keeps buying for all the people who sit for his pretty pictures.”

  “What did Dani get out of him?”

  “Double chocolate chip cookies and hot chocolate.” Macy gave me a wolfish smile. “She knows how to play men. I feel that I’ll be in trouble in about five years.”

  I laughed despite my own annoyance. “I think you’re right. You’ll have too much fun needling Gideon.”

  Her grin widened. “I live for making my husband nuts.”

  “What’s that like?”

  She frowned. “You know Gideon.”

  “I know.” I shook my head. “Never mind.”

  “Uh-oh. Are you drinking the Cove Kool-Aid?”

  “No. Well, maybe a little. I’m in no rush for the baby part, but I’m tired of the dating roulette wheel. I’d like a guy who isn’t into games.” I peeked out into the dining room. I could just glimpse Callum on the couch. “He’s got games stamped all over him.”

  “Even in the granddad sweater?”

  I let the door close. “Not sure I’ve ever seen a grandfather fill out the shoulders of a sweater like that.”

  “So, you have been looking. I knew there was a story. I can always smell it.”

  “Your nose should be singed from coffee.”

  “Blaspheme.”

  I laughed as I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter. “We had a stupid moment under the mistletoe at the festival last night. It was snowing and the twinkle lights were bright and there he was all chilled and out of place. Rosy nose and funnel cake powder on his coat. Then he just sort of…”

  “Planted one on you?”

  “Ugh.” I could feel the heat flooding my neck and cheeks. “Yes. I wasn’t expecting it, and he actually knows how to kiss—which is kind of a miracle compared to a lot of guys out there.”

  “That’s a fact. Kinda how Gideon and I got into trouble. Though I was the one planting one on him.”

  “On camera.”

  Macy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, let’s not talk about that. Especially since it wasn’t the first time. Look, there’s no harm in finding out how it might go between you. I mean, he’s not from the Cove so maybe he isn’t afflicted like the rest of them. Just you know, wrap it twice.”

  “Macy.” I twisted the end of my ponytail and wrinkled my nose.

  “What? It’s true. Then again, we’ve had a few strangers wander through, and they still end up planting babies in unsuspecting women of this town. Maybe you’re right. Don’t hook up with the hot artist dude.”

  “Right. See? That’s the smart thing.”

  “Smart thing. Yep. You’re a smart girl.”

  “I am.” I nodded. “See, you’re good at this stuff.”

  “But…”

  I tipped back my head. “No buts.”

  “First of all—no, this is definitely not my bag. However, you not going to be under my daily watch anymore.”

  “I’ll only be a few storefronts down. I’m not moving to Syracuse or anything.”

  “Still.”

  I grinned at her. “Maybe you’ll even let me cut your hair.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “I do okay.”

  I sighed. So much for Macy as my first paid customer. “That’s true. Someone must have taught you how to cut.”

  She shrugged. “My mom was a hairdresser. It’s not an easy life. Then again, you’re used to being on your feet all day anyway. And I have a feeling you’ll be just fine.”

  My eyes burned. “You think?”

  “As I said, you’re smart. You don’t trip over your tongue because a hot dude smiles at you like a lot of the baristas who have worked here. If he gets your blood pumping, maybe don’t shut him down right away. You can go on a date like normal people.”

  “I’m starting a new job.”

  “Right. A job—not three like you have been doing. Just one job, like the rest of us.”

  “You have two jobs.”

  She waved me away. “I don’t count. I like both my jobs.”

  “I love my job here.”

  “No. You are very competent at your job and I appreciate that. But this isn’t your passion. I see you ripping pages out of the magazines left in the book nook.”

  I flushed. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I don’t care. I’m aware that people in town just like to dump their magazines on me from their kids’ school magazine drives. But I see your brain spinning, and then you’re off stealing my tape dispenser to play collage with your idea book.”

  I winced.

  She pulled out a little Moleskine notebook from her back pocket. “I have one too.” She shoved it back in her pocket. “It’s in code, so don’t think you can steal my secrets.”

  A laugh burst out of me. “I would never.”

  “Take a chance on the hot artist. And if you still aren’t into him then shake him loose. I have a bat under the counter if you need it.” She straightened her shoulders. “Now give me your apron, and get out of here.”

  “I still have another hour.”

  “Go. If you want to go upstairs to get cleaned up, I’ll make sure Dani keeps him occupied.”

  I nibbled on the inside of my cheek. Handily, my apartment was above the café. I’d managed to snag one of the few one-bedrooms when Rylee moved in with her husband.

  “Go on. Be a girl for once. I won’t hold it against you.”

  “Maybe dinner would be okay.” I untied my apron and handed it to her.

  She crumpled it in her hand, and then pointed at me. “And not at the diner. Come on, Vanilla, live a little.”

  “Never thought you’d be a matchmaker.”

  “Don’t tell Vee, or I’ll break your kneecap.”

  “There’s the Macy I know and love.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She pushed open the door then paused. “Go through the back. Knock his socks off.”

  I played with the thin gold band on my thumb. If I was going to be stupid, I should at least go all in. “Think Dani can keep him busy for an hour?”

  “Can do.”

  I sneaked out the back door near the Dumpster and hurried down the alleyway to the side entrance to the apartments. The bris
k winter air was like a slap. I was definitely making a mistake. Then again, dinner was a small price to pay to get back my notebook and my scarf.

  I’d get a steak out of him, at least.

  With a side of hot kisses…

  No. Just a steak.

  Probably.

  Chapter Five

  CALLUM

  I folded my arms and faced off with the kid in front of me. We were sketch battling in comic style—not my best medium, but I’d been a teenage boy long enough to have secret dreams of drawing Batman like most guys.

  Dani flipped her pad around toward me. My eyebrows shot up. The kid was good. “How old are you?” I asked.

  “Almost ten.”

  “Damn.”

  “You said a swear.”

  I cringed. “I did.” I pulled out my wallet and withdrew a dollar. “Swear jar?”

  She snatched it. “Sounds good to me.”

  I was pretty sure her pocket was the swear jar, but I shrugged and looked down at my own paper. My superhero had a scrappy vibe that probably had more to do with the kid who had been amusing me for the last two hours than any talent of mine.

  I showed her my sketch.

  Her eyes widened, and she snatched the pad out of my hand. “Cool!”

  “Guess we’ll have to call it a draw then.”

  “Oh, mine’s still better. But this is awesome. Imma call her Ruby.”

  I shook my head. Oh, to have the self-esteem of an almost ten-year-old. “And why is her name Ruby?”

  She shrugged and ripped off the page before handing me back the sketch pad. Then she handed over her drawing. “Whatcha gonna call mine?”

  I glanced down at her surprisingly detailed dog with wings. “Looks like a Jersey to me. Lots of attitude.”

  “My friend Jessie is from there. Definitely lots of attitude. Macy says she’s a bad influence.” Her voice dropped to a stage whisper. “I think she likes her though.”

  “Your…Macy, is pretty interesting herself.”

  “She’s cool. She married my dad, and now I have a little brother. So, she’s like my bonus mom. You should go to The Haunt. If you’re not scared anyway.”

  “The place next door?”

  “Yep. There’s a life-size Michael Myers in there. And Freddy and Jason. There’s even a Swamp Thing. Macy let me put Santa hats on them.”

  Her thought process was staggering. Then again, when it came to ‘kids’, the ones in my purview at the community college were mostly advanced teens, and they were still as random as their thought processes.

  “Anyway. Thanks for drawing with me. It was fun. Way funner—”

  “More fun.”

  “Right. That’s what I said.”

  I rolled my bottom lip behind my teeth so I didn’t laugh. She was something else.

  “Way better than Grumps. He can’t even handle a crayon.”

  “Well, that’s high praise then.”

  “Not really.”

  I shook my head and collapsed into the couch. “You’re tough, kid.”

  “Yeah, that’s what my dad says too. Anyway, I really like your stuff. You can come back tomorrow if you want.”

  “I can, huh?” I crossed my arms over my sketch pad on my belly.

  Dani waved. “Gotta go pick up my brother.”

  “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.” I’d suddenly developed more interest in sticking around town, so the possibility was there.

  “Maybe I’ll beat you at drawing again.”

  I laughed. “Wouldn’t doubt it.”

  I tucked my supplies into my messenger bag. If I stuck around, I was going to have to stop into Colette’s place again. I was about two-thirds of the way through the hundred-page sketchbook just from sitting here for a day. And while some of the pieces were throwaway warmup sketches, a lot of them were actually good studies that just might be something more.

  I was all about using models when I needed to, but for the most part, I preferred everyday subjects and Crescent Cove was full of characters. From the nosy busybody types, to the prolific level of children, and the added strangers in town for the festival, I’d been inundated with subject matter. People from all walks of life came in and out of the café. Some I drew from mental snapshots, while others were curious enough to ask to sit for me.

  My brain was whirling with ideas for a new series, which my agent would be super excited about considering I’d been dry for the last few months. The fall term always sucked all the creativity out of me. All that new hope wrapped in the careless throwaway years of youth. I reached a few students—enough to keep my own hope alive. Occasionally, I found little pockets of inspiration within our class discussions. Some students even surprised me with their takes on old folklore.

  The winter term was more for my advanced classes. They were wrapped up in their own projects, and that often gave me time to deal with my own. As well as allowing me to get my annual book published to keep my place at the college. If you didn’t publish, you perished. At least that was the current dean’s point of view.

  I had my initial research done on Tam Lin, a Scottish folktale. I was actually toying with writing an illustrated book. The prospect was scary as hell. I liked the anonymity of my alter ego, Cal. No last name on my paintings, just a sliced up version of my first. It was too unusual to use the full version without someone being able to connect a few dots.

  At the very least, my Crescent Cove sojourn had produced enough seeds for a half dozen paintings. Dry period be gone.

  For once, everything was falling in line. I should be settled, but instead, it was as if the whole world was a little tilted. I had a feeling that was more from a certain smart-mouthed barista.

  One who had disappeared in the last hour or so.

  I felt around in my bag and found her heavy notebook. It was bulging with clippings and glued-in notes. I didn’t mean to open it. I knew more than most how much a sketchbook was more like a personal journal. But the spine was practically cracked with all the extra papers that had been added.

  Glossy magazine pages had been ripped and altered, largely of women’s faces and hair. Some had been restructured with pencils and paints while others had literally been cut to create a different style.

  Notes were scribbled in the margins, numbers and names that didn’t make a lick of sense to me.

  A few brand names that I vaguely understood were highlighted with phone numbers or ID numbers—I couldn’t tell which. But it was her script handwriting I was more interested in. It was slashing and feminine, not the cutesy teen bubble-style. No, this was the kind that came with a quick brain who couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

  Some of it had to be her own brand of shorthand.

  I kept turning the pages. Her sense of color was startlingly intense. From the rich browns and reds to a million shades in between. It took a special eye to see variations like she did. And the way she hacked at photos to create her own hairstyles then moved on to scratchy drawings that refined them into faceless drawings that reminded me of fashion drawings.

  But she didn’t seem to care about clothing, so I was more inclined to think she was into the cosmetology end of art.

  “Nosy much?”

  I snapped the book shut and looked up. “Sorry, it sort of…” I stood and was pretty sure my tongue rolled out of my head and across the cafė to stop at her feet.

  She’d changed.

  The sweet ponytail had been replaced with a tumble of light brown waves tinged with caramel. Large gold hoops hung from her ears and she’d done something with her face. It was enhanced with some female witchcraft. Not the kind that looked overdone. No, this was the little tricks of her trade, now that I knew her a little better.

  She’d changed into some sort of dusky pink sweater that looked cloud soft and slipped off one shoulder—I intended to find out just how soft it was, mind you. Of course then there was the skin tight white jeans and boots that matched her sweater. But not just a regular pair of boots. These went
over her knee with a spiked heel that made her legs look miles long.

  Fuck.

  “Sort of what? Hopped out of your bag and into your hand and the pages magically fanned open?” She crossed her arms, and it did ridiculous things to the curve of her chest. Also, her sweater lifted the tiniest bit to show off a slash of golden stomach.

  Was she wearing a bra?

  There was definitely no strap going on there. Maybe it was one of those strapless things that only women understood. Or just one strap? I didn’t understand, but I wanted to. And I really wanted it to be on my floor tonight. Or just the sweater. I wasn’t choosy. I just wanted her.

  “Uh…”

  “Eyes up, pal.”

  I blew out a breath. “Sorry. You…wow.”

  Her lips quirked up at the corner. Damn, she knew her power. Why did that make her even hotter?

  I cleared my throat. “I was looking for you and then I took out the notebook and it was ready to bust open.”

  She dropped her arms and came for me. I mean, came forward. The slow roll of her hips and those legs of hers made me crazy. I couldn’t form a fucking thought. She tipped her head slightly and the scent of vanilla and honey flooded my senses. From the dusting of something shimmery on her shoulder to the glimmer of gold at her neck, ears, and wrists, she sparkled. She was a winter dream right in front of me.

  And I was totally botching this. Again.

  She took the notebook and dropped it into the huge bag over her other shoulder. “Thanks for keeping it safe. Ish.”

  “I didn’t touch it. Well, I mean I looked at a few pages, but I didn’t hurt anything. It’s really amazing,” I finished lamely.

  “Thanks. I’ve been collecting for a long time.”

  “Just collecting?”

  She stepped closer. “Guess I’ll find out Monday.”

  “What’s Monday?”

  “Do you really care, Callum?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “You’ll be gone by then, won’t you?” She tipped her head and tucked a heavy lock of hair behind her ear. “Better question is why are you still here?”