Rebecca Raisin - Christmas At The Café

He smiles. “She did, and she told me what you said, which was pretty sweet. I think she feels better now. I rang Dianne, and told her to speak to Charlie, to put her mind at ease. It’s one thing I’m grateful for, that there’s no animosity between me and Dianne any more. She’s happy with her new life, and I am more than happy with mine. Makes it easier to put Charlie’s needs first.”

I arch my eyebrow. “So you’re happy, you say?” My heart races when I watch his expression as his gaze travels up the length of my naked body.

“Hmm, I’d say right now I’m…distracted. What’s say we go take a lie-down before dinner?” Before I can answer he’s holding my hands and pulling me out of the bath.

I smirk as I say, “Oh, I’m not tired.”

His voice is gruff with desire. “That right? Well, you won’t be sleeping.” He carries me to the bedroom, as if we’re some kind of honeymooning couple.

***

Still smiling from Damon’s so-called lie-down, I change into old sweats. They’re too large, and are stained from cooking, or more likely from eating, but as comforting as a safety blanket.

In the kitchen, Damon’s at the table, his hands clasped together, looking out of the window as though he’s mesmerized by the sinking sun. Two glasses of white wine sit waiting, condensation running off the cool glasses.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he says lazily. “Don’t you just look adorable dressed like that?”

“Yeah, it’s the latest look. You know the whole sloth vibe…”

“I don’t know about that…you make sweats look good.”

I sigh inwardly. His flirty, sexy voice makes me want to ravish him again, but I know Charlie will be home soon. I can’t remember ever feeling this intoxicated by love before. It’s so powerful, like a drug, it makes it difficult to focus on anything other than him.

We sit quietly, listening to the sounds of the children’s shrieks as they play chase outside. It’s one of those very rare times when you suddenly realize nothing else could make this moment any more perfect. I’m flushed with love; it feels extraordinary, as if we’re the only ones in the world who’ve loved like this.

“So.” He turns to me, and by the look in his eyes I know what the topic is going to be. “Did you hear anything back from Jefferson?”

I shake my head. “No, not yet. I have this horrible feeling I’m going to have to pay Joel back. But, you know, I have some money saved, and hopefully the revenue from the festival will be enough to keep him at bay until I can work something out.”

He folds his arms and goes to speak then stops. Guess he’s weighing up what he ought to say and what he really wants to say. Truly, I am angry at Joel, and will be more so if I have to pay. But I don’t want Damon to think he has to save me. I don’t want to be that girl that needs to be rescued.

“Lil, I know you’re proud, and you don’t want to take the money from me. But can’t you see…? To me, it’s not about the money. It’s about you.”

“I know. I do. But I can’t have people fighting my battles. I should have known better when it comes to him and his family, so I’ll take it on the chin, and work my way out of it. I’ve done it before, I can do it again.”

He frowns as he sips his wine. “But what if you don’t make enough at the festival? Will you accept the shortfall from me?”

I try to look composed, confident. “No, there’ll be enough. I’m sure of it.” There’s no chance I’ll make enough to cover the twenty thousand, and the exorbitant amount of interest he wants to slug me, but if Mr Jefferson says I have to pay, I’ll get a loan or something before I even think of borrowing off Damon or selling the café. People might call me a fool not accepting his help, but there comes a time when you have to be in control of your own life. And nearing the big three oh, I can’t expect to be bailed out.

“I won’t keep hounding you, Lil, but what if he doesn’t leave? What if you have to sell the café, all on account of something as stupid as that idiot?”

“It won’t come to that. I promise,” I say hopefully. “And if all else fails, I’ll open up a chocolate shop.” My joke falls flat as I see his frown deepen.

“Really?”

“Easter eggs all year round, I say. No, not really — the café is my life. I’d be lost without it.”

“I wish you’d reconsider taking the money. I’d happily pay it to get him out of town and away from you.” His voice has a slightly harder tone and I realize maybe Damon does feel slightly threatened by the scurrilous Joel.

“He’ll go. I’ll work out a way, and I’ll fight to keep the Gingerbread Café. Either way I’m going to add chocolate to our repertoire. There’s something hypnotic about tempering chocolate and molding it into something completely different. I think of all the flavors and textures I can add…”

“Sounds like your mind is made up. We could incorporate it into the catering too. Chocolate martinis with a side of truffles. Say, we could even do chocolate buffets, set it out all pretty on a table and let people help themselves.”

“See? Now we’re thinking ahead. It’s much better than mooning about things I can’t change.”

He nuzzles into my neck; his warm breath on my skin gives me goose bumps. “Well, OK. I’m still learning that you can be stubborn as a mule.”

I let out a donkey-like haw, and we laugh together as the sun sinks completely, the orange hue replaced by soft sepia light. Shadows stretch on the floor beside us, and I get lost in the blackness of them, wondering how Joel managed to creep into my perfect moment, and break the spell.

Chapter Eight

The next morning at the Gingerbread Café, CeeCee is swamped with customers. I look on in awe as I jog past the window, and see a long queue inside. I’m late again on account of picking up some more supplies for the festival.

I rush in and don my apron.

“Sugar plum, glory be, it’s been hectic!” CeeCee has a sheen of sweat on her brow, and is smiling as if she’s won lotto. I grin back at her. From the looks of it everyone is here for chocolate and a rush of pleasure surges through me.

I serve customers, who are mostly local, and chat while I get their orders together.

CeeCee’s guffaws ring out when she tells the story about me blowing out the Paschal eggs. Seems she just has to tell everyone, including people who don’t ask.

“You shoulda seen her face, oh, it were priceless…”

I shake my head, and laugh at her hooting and hollering. CeeCee is always excitable when we’re busy. Everyone laughs along with her. “You should’ve been a stand-up comedian, Cee.”

With each order we slip in a free gingerbread rabbit, sweet-smelling biscuits that look cute with their white icing whiskers, and ruby-red bow ties.

Once the last customer strolls out with a backwards wave, we plonk down on the sofa for a break.

“I’m beat!” CeeCee hoists her legs up and closes her eyes.

“I’ve never seen it so busy. Seems like the whole town wandered in this morning.”

“There’s only a handful of chocolate eggs left. We’re going to have to make more tonight.”

“More? Gosh, we’re going to need a holiday after this festival.” I sigh, thinking of a summer holiday somewhere seaside with Damon. Cheesy love songs spring to mind. I envisage him chasing me along a white sandy beach. I grin when I realize I’m fantasizing about my life as if it’s one of CeeCee’s novels. They sure do give a girl inspiration.

“What you grinnin’ at?”

“Nothing. Just thinking of a holiday one of these days.” There’s no way I’m telling her I’m picturing a beach run while a song plays in my mind. She’ll think I’m cuckoo.