Chapter Ten
“O rder up for Carl,” Chloe sang out, sticking her head out the window of the tricked-out Airstream. She grinned back at Rustin. “That was my favorite part of hanging out at Millie’s. Saying it at the Christmas Market is even cooler.”
He’d forgotten how she would sing out order up in the voice of different singers or in different music genres. Chloe was a wicked, on-the-mark mimic.
How had I forgotten that?
Because his life had been a grind, and he’d been an angry, desperate, and resentful punk, determined to squeeze the sour out of every moment.
Was he different now? Could he relax enough to enjoy himself?
Again, his fascinated gaze settled on the smiling Chloe, who handed the food to Carl and his date, then propped her slender frame up on the tiny counter and stuck her body half out the window, her tongue curled out of her mouth.
“It’s so cold. I think it’s going to snow.”
She launched into “White Christmas,” and even though Rustin had done his best to avoid Christmas his entire life, he had to fight the urge to smile and join in singing the few lyrics he knew.
Chloe had been correct in her suggestions for the pop-up menu: Southern comfort food in easy-to-carry The Wild Side recyclable containers.
Using the Southern Love Spells book as inspiration, Rustin had three versions of hush puppies: savory, crab and shrimp, and traditional. He also offered lightly fried chicken strips with a small waffle and a variety of drizzle sauces. Not the most inspired offering considering how his signature dishes were creative fusion blends. But he’d put his own personal spin on traditional, just a step off the path, considering his audience of small-town folk and families out to enjoy the local arts and crafts market selections. The small downtown lot was decorated, and artisans had red awnings in case of rain, but the night was clear and had dipped below freezing.
“Hey.” Chloe’s soft comment captured his attention. “Look at you. Look at this,” she encouraged, her proud gaze taking in Lucas—serving as his sous chef—and The Wild Side head bartender, Clara, serving two original Christmas-themed cocktails and mocktails as well as homemade hot chocolate, mulled wine, and Southern spiced coffee.
“You and your team have created an experience. Holiday memories for friends and families. Savor this moment, Rustin. You’ve accomplished so much.”
Her words hit him in the center mass of his chest, and it was all he could do to not walk away from his station and gather her in his arms. In the crush of the moment, he wanted to uncage his feelings, his thoughts, his belief that she, too, was part of The Wild Side and the pop-up she’d jokingly called More Wild . He, Rebekah, and Lucas had run with it.
She was so beautiful and full of life. Her enthusiasm and kindness were infectious. Goodness and light radiated from Chloe like a heat source.
He’d fought the pressure of his feelings for the past two weeks—preparing for the Movable Feast, seeing Chloe every day as she practiced her cooking skills, timing, focus, and organization. And then she’d thrown herself into helping trick out the Airstream after work every day.
She fit in with his crew now, and it felt like she’d always been a part of them. He no longer blamed the book, black magic, her rumored gypsy genes, or his bone-deep loneliness. Instead, he was grateful. For the first time in his life, he was enjoying the journey, not just focused on his next goal.
Seeing her shining, slightly mismatched eyes, wide smile, and general golden doodle enthusiasm about everything—the menu, the food, the absurd custom-made red beanies she’d knitted for the More Wild crew—had crushed to dust the last of his resistance.
Chloe was so warm, so sweet. His fascination was a battle born to be lost.
He didn’t want to be angry anymore, proving something to people who likely barely remembered him, judging by the way the mayor had brought his family by the More Wild and ordered three styles of hush puppies and hot chocolate for his grandchildren and then welcomed Rustin back to Belmont, congratulating him on becoming the first anchor for the Riverfront development. The mayor introduced him to his wife and family, shook his hand, and acted generally pleased to see him.
Chloe had fist-bumped him and made the cutest exploding sound, then hummed the theme from The Twilight Zone and intoned, “In a world where the past no longer has power, one man is freed to…” she’d giggled. “Finish the sentence, Rustin. It’s your world.”
And as he cooked and was entertained by Chloe’s happy greetings to customers—she knew most of them—he contemplated the new world he wanted to build so he could complete Chloe’s teasing fill-in-the-sentence challenge.
*
Chloe felt so happy she could burst. She and her small acapella choir of South Point Abbey students had finished their thirty-minute slot to sing their own arrangements of Christmas carols as they walked around the market and down Main Street.
“Y’all slayed,” she cheered the group of twelve students decked out in red with the knit hats with musical notes she’d made for them. “I’ll treat you all to a hot chocolate and some hush puppies. I know just the place.”
“Where the hottie chef works?” A couple of the girls perked up.
“Yum, I saw him too,” Lorelei and Shevawn said at the same time. They each licked one finger and made a sizzling sound.
“I cannot disagree with that assessment,” Chloe laughed, “but you are representing the college, so let’s keep it G, y’all.”
She and Rustin had kissed. Her mind was already racing. Should she ask Rustin out on a date? Would he like to go to a concert or a play at the school? With the end of the semester looming, there were so many upcoming holiday activities. It was a bit weird because they’d spent so much time together, and yet they hadn’t had a date-date. She hadn’t shared her feelings, although she had many. She’d never been accused of subtly.
She was determined to take her shot with Rustin.
She walked with her choir, chatting about holiday plans and Christmas shopping, slowing some at a few booths and making a mental note to return to shop for friends and family.
“Hey girl, we heard your choir singing.” Jessica hip-checked her, Meghan and Sarah flanked her. They all carried two reusable totes filled with a variety of local crafts and were bundled up in festive-colored long wool coats, mittens, and brightly colored hats with Christmas themes—bells and sleighs for Jessica, snowflakes for Sarah and Santas for Meghan.
“Beautiful,” Meghan agreed.
“Thanks.” Chloe hugged each of them, feeling like her heart was overflowing with gratitude. “Join us. The choir and I are getting hot chocolate and hush puppies, then I’m going to check in to see if Rustin still needs me to help tonight.”
“Rustin?” Meghan goggled at her. “You’re working for him now? You’re a teacher!” Meghan said, as if Chloe had forgotten.
“Volunteering,” she said cheerfully, willing Meghan to drop it and not launch into a diatribe about Rustin or his family.
“That’s sweet, Chloe.” Sarah smiled. “Rustin helped you with the Movable Feast and now you are helping him get his new business off the ground. Grandma Millie will be so pleased and proud.”
“We are all proud of you,” Meghan added.
Jessica nibbled on her bottom lip but said nothing. Grandma Millie had talked about stepping up the fateful night of the Madrigal Dinner. Couldn’t get much more changing of the guard than having Rustin take over the diner and have his new restaurant be the anchor for the new Riverfront development.
“I volunteered at the Movable Feast,” one of her students, Jaimie, announced, “and was stationed to serve and clean up at the new restaurant. The bar is killer. I can’t wait until The Wild Side opens. I’m going to apply for a hostess or server job there this summer.”
Chloe looked at Jessica as if to say see, prodigal son returns, creates a destination restaurant, employs locals, and ups Belmont’s culinary destination cred . Case closed.
“I could use a cocktail,” Meghan said.
“When can you not?” Jessica teased, but her face was thoughtful as the three of them linked arms with Chloe and followed the students to the More Wild food truck.
“What can I get you, Chloe?” Rustin called out through the window.
He looked gorgeous in the warm, sunset glow of the trailer’s lighting. His shirt sleeves were rolled up his forearm so she could see the tanned flex of muscle and a partial tat she still hadn’t had the chance to ask him about. His black hair was pulled back from his angular face, and his attention felt like a blast of heat.
She asked for four orders of hush puppies and four orders of fried chicken and waffles for her choir to split, then one regular order of hush puppies, and two savory hush puppies to share with her cousins.
“On me,” she said, pulling out her card. “We order drinks on the other side.”
Rebekah, cheeks flushed, shot into the back end of the trailer, Lucas right behind her.
“Sorry,” she said washing her hands as Lucas did the same. “Got caught up in the shoportunities . Who knew this podunk town would have so many creative craft artisans?”
“Belmont is a beautiful, historic town about forty-five minutes from downtown Charlotte. Hardly podunk, and you’re managing the latest and greatest restaurant in the area, so sing our small but mightily charming town’s praises.” Chloe defended Belmont, Rustin, and well, everything. “We’re a college town with a music conservatory, so we have lots of performances and interesting lectures.”
Rebekah paused keying in the payment. She blinked at Chloe, and then turned back to look at Rustin.
“You’re right,” she said slowly, looking at Rustin. “You’re right.”
“About what?” Chloe demanded.
“You running for the Belmont Chamber of Commerce or mayor,” Rebekah teased and almost smiled. “Food’s on me! Well, me and The Wild Side,” Rebekah smirked. “But you’re practically part of the team. You helped decorate the restaurant for the feast, helped us get this trailer ready for the market, and worked the first two hours of the night, so the food’s comped. You can get the drinks,” Rebekah insisted as Chloe continued to push her credit card at her.
“I’m going to do a quick round of shopping, and then I’ll come back to help,” Chloe promised.
“No worries.” Rustin poked his head through the window. “I’m running low on food, so we’ll just keep the bar open.”
“It’s been a big success.” Chloe bounced on her toes. “I knew it!”
“Is this the part where I say you were right?”
“You can.”
“You were right, Chloe Maye Cramer. Right about the pop-up. Right about the type of food. And I was wrong. I had no idea what crowd to expect,” he said, and briefly his attention left her and skewered the milling crowds. He looked calculating and confident.
Chloe was conscious that the three Ms were watching the interaction avidly.
“We’re taking two weekend spots for the McAdenville light festival,” he said looking back at her, smiling. “If you ever get bored on a Friday or Saturday night.”
“I’m never bored,” Chloe confessed. How could she be? There was always music and books and lesson plans and grading. “But I’ll definitely work the counter for food and fun.”
“Good,” he said as she high-fived him through the window. “It’s a date.”
OMG! He just asked me on a date!
Chloe had no idea her spirits could soar any higher. It was a miracle she didn’t blast off.
“Jessica, Meghan, Sarah,” Rustin acknowledged them, the teasing light in his dark gaze gone as if it had never been there, and for a moment he looked like the angry, sullen teen stalking around town. But then his features smoothed, and a smile played at the corner of his stern mouth. “Happy holidays.”
His attention was back on his gas burners.
“I feel dissed,” Sarah smiled, “but you seem to have jumped to the front of the line of admirers, Chloe,” she teased.
“Better buy some boxing gloves. The town has lots of ladies sharpening their eye and lip liners, preparing to welcome Rustin back to town,” Meghan said. “I might have some Krav Maga tips.”
Meghan and Sarah broke into giggles.
“I’m surprised Belmont singletons haven’t broken The Wild Side door down yet to get to Rustin,” Chloe said honestly, taking the food that Rebekah handed her.
She handed one of the custom cones of fried chicken to an unusually quiet Jessica and the other to Meghan and Sarah, along with a serving of hush puppies. She juggled the other food and walked around the trailer to the other side, holding her credit card in her teeth.
“Gross, Chloe,” Meghan laughed. “What are you a puppy?” She grabbed the card out of Chloe’s mouth and wiped the edge along her red flowy pants she’d worn to every holiday concert for the past few years. “I think single ladies of Belmont are struggling with a strategy. They’re too terrified to pawn off a family casserole on a chef with a reputation for innovation and who’s bringing all kinds of heat in and out of the kitchen.”
Meghan made a sizzling sound and popped a hush puppy into her mouth.
“Damn,” she moaned, her eyes rolling back. “That is beyond delicious. Get your own, Jessica and Sarah.” She hugged the order of hush puppies to her chest. “Not sharing. I’ll hit the gym extra tomorrow.”
Twenty minutes later, Chloe walked with Jessica along the row of booths. Sarah and Meghan had split off to buy more presents and had ordered ‘no spying.’ Chloe kept waiting for her to dish.
What’s bothering her?
But Chloe felt weirdly too nervous to ask. Jessica chowed on the chicken strips and waffle, while Chloe shopped with intention; she was careful with her budget. She did prefer holiday markets with their creative wares, and the feeling of shopping locally always buoyed her spirits. But soon Jessica’s silence felt spectral, judgey even.
“You want to walk down Main Street? Some of the shops have stayed open. I thought I could buy candy canes to decorate the gift bags,” Chloe asked.
“As long as you don’t buy those handmade candy canes for your students,” Jessica warned. “Remember the year when even with the teacher discount Leigh Anne gave you, you broke your Christmas bank?”
“It was my first year teaching, so I was pretty broke to begin with. Your idea of baking Christmas cookies and having carafes of hot chocolate on the last day of class before the Christmas break is much more economical.”
“Oh. Chloe, I ate everything.” Jessica looked down at the empty cones that had held the hush puppies and the other that had had the fried chicken and waffle, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink.
“Rustin’s cooking is that good,” Chloe said, happy Jessica had enjoyed the meal. Maybe her emotional vendetta against Rustin was fading. “Speaking of cooking, well, baking. Are we still on for our cookie-baking extravaganza?” She placed her palms together as if in prayer and hopped a half circle around Jessica on the sidewalk in front of the bookstore.
“You want to?” Jessica asked. “I thought you’d be asking the practically hometown hero celebrity chef to bake with you.”
Chloe blinked. Jessica had a tone.
“But it’s been our thing,” she said. “We practice a new mulled wine recipe for the Maye open house tea, taste test it, and then bake Christmas cookies for my students and the family holiday tea.”
Chloe felt crushed that Jessica thought she didn’t want to do it with her this year. “It’s my favorite part of Christmas,” Chloe barely stifled her wail. “And I’m getting better. I’m good with the cookie cutters. I always set the timer last year without any reminders and even took out each tray when it buzzed without using my ‘intuition of doneness.’ And we decorate your tree at the Cramer House and listen to Christmas carols, and I spend the night, and—”
“Okay, okay,” Jessica chuckled. “I love it too, Chloe. We’ll bang out a lot of cookies, get a smidge buzzed, and you do a much more festive job decorating the house than I do. I’ll check in with Meghan and Sarah to see if they can join us. You’re sure you aren’t going to bake with Rustin, or is he too busy?”
Chloe grinned. “I hadn’t thought to ask. He doesn’t really exude a cookie vibe, does he? But spending time with him in the kitchen has been dreamy, although humbling and humiliating because I get so distracted watching him chop and finesse. And his focus!” She fanned herself. “Dreams do come true. He has the sexiest forearms.”
Jessica stared at her.
Oops.
“TMI?” Had she been too loud? There were still a lot of families milling around the market and Main Street since everything was open late tonight. “But Christmas cookies are our thing.”
“Chloe, are you really dating Rustin for real?” Jessica demanded.
“Um…” Why did she feel defensive? Rustin had finally asked her out on a real date. “We’ve spent time together,” she said, unable to cork the happiness bubbling through her. “But we haven’t really had a date, yet.”
Jessica looked astonished. “Chloe, be careful.”
“What? Why?” she asked, hating to see Jessica upset and not understanding it. “Everything we’ve done has had a purpose: the Movable Feast, where he taught me some cooking skills, how to exactly follow the recipe in the Southern Love Spells book.”
“Love spells?” Jessica repeated, eyes wide and staring. “That’s the book you found and used? Love spells? Really, Chloe.”
“It’s not really spells,” Chloe defended, feeling like she was ten again and had messed up. Belatedly she remembered that Jessica, along with Grandma Millie, was the most enthusiastic churchgoer in the family. Well, most of them attended, but it was more obligation than a joyful choice.
“It’s not like I was incanting anything while lighting candles. Well, I did light candles for one recipe and another time when Rustin and I made a cherry bounce, but I wasn’t summoning ghosts or pricking fingers or…” She trailed off, daunted by Jessica’s shocked expression. “Jessie, I’m kidding. It’s really tame with lots of love advice about cooking and presenting food to men. Sort of a hoot really.”
“You said you’d show me that book.”
“Yes, I will,” Chloe said quickly. “I promised Rustin he could use it; he wanted to study for inspiration on the Roots section of his menu. When he returns it, you can see it. A deal’s a deal.”
“You could be giving away Maye family secrets.”
“ Please .” Chloe rolled her eyes. “I know I found the book in Grandma Millie’s little library. But Grandma Millie hasn’t written in it.”
“Did you ask her?”
“Noooo,” Chloe drawled out, wondering why she had been so private and protective about the book. “It wasn’t hers.” She infused her voice with confidence. “Anyone could have put it there.”
“And you just impulsively closed your eyes and picked a recipe or two and then had everyone in town eat the food?”
“It’s a cookbook, Jessica, not voodoo or whatever.”
“I want to see it.”
“See what?”
Rustin had strolled up behind them, and Chloe felt herself light up. She stifled the impulse to touch him.
“Jessica wants to borrow the cookbook.”
Rustin’s gaze flicked to Jessica and then back to hers, and Chloe felt heat curl in her toes and pulse up through her body, warming her to the point that she thought she just might melt in her white puffer jacket.
“She does, does she?”
He has the sexiest mouth.
“Uh, huh. For cookies.”
“Cookies?” Rustin smiled, and Chloe thought she’d liquify onto the sidewalk, despite the chilly night. She could feel Jessica’s scrutiny but didn’t care. Maybe she and Rustin were really dating.
I can dream that big!
“Jessica and I are baking cookies one night this coming week for the Maye open house and my students. The last day before break I give them a holiday party and share a special compilation of holiday-themed poems or sudden fiction that they’ve found or written over the semester.”
“You can take the book to her when you bake cookies; does that work?” Again, he flicked a cool gaze toward Jessica, but Chloe felt the temperature rise when his dark gaze broodily settled back on her.
Her tummy flipped. Again. It was like every fantasy she’d ever had—Rustin’s attention on a December night bathed in golden Christmas lights and music. Holiday happiness surrounded them.
“I thought we could walk around the market a little, Chloe,” Rustin said. “I’ve wrapped up cooking for tonight.”
“Of course. I didn’t think you’d be able to get away.” Chloe happy-hopped in place.
“That’s the advantage of being the boss.”
“You want to join us, Jessica?” Chloe asked, half hoping Jessica would decline but also wanting her to say yes, so the uncomfortable rift that she felt between them and the suspicion of Rustin would have a chance to heal.
“No. I’ve got a few things to do,” Jessica replied.
Disappointment crashed through Chloe. “Do you need help?”
“I got it.” She looked at both Rustin and Chloe, her gaze penetrating, yet inscrutable. “When do you want to bake the cookies?”
“We usually do it on Wednesday in case something goes wrong; so we have another night.”
“Nothing ever goes wrong with my cookies, Chloe. Not ever.”
“That’s tempting fate,” Rustin remarked.
“I feel like tempting fate,” Jessica shot back. “Let’s shoot for Thursday night this year, Chloe,” Jessica said, “but bring the book to me on Wednesday so I can take a look, maybe choose a different recipe for the Maye open house.”
Jessica smiled and walked off, doing her signature handwave over her head. as she strode away.
“Do you think she’ll try to poison me?”
Chloe brushed her finger along the back of Rustin’s hand and was thrilled when he peeled off her glove and, holding her gaze, kissed the pad of each finger.
“I’ll be your official taste tester,” she promised breathlessly. Maybe they were dating.
Please let us be dating!
“She could want to take us both out. A two-fer.” He sucked her thumb into his mouth. “I want to be alone with you.”
“I want that too.”
He smiled. “You’re not supposed to make it that easy for me, Chloe.”
“I am easy,” she said. “You’ve always been the one, Rustin. Always.”
His eyes looked dark, even in the vintage-inspired gas streetlights that stood vigil along Main Street.
He pulled her in for a hug, and she hoped he’d kiss her but instead, he just held her, his chin resting on her head.
“You warm me through and through. I was so cold, angry, driven. You calm me. I feel so content.”
“That’s not romantic. I’m supposed to make you burn up with crazy passion,” she objected.
She felt his chest rumble as if he were trying to suppress a laugh.
“There is that,” he said. “But lust I’ve had. Contentment? Calm? Never. My whole life has been a struggle, a fight to survive, to win, to achieve. I was angry for so many years. Always running hot. Fury. Intensity. It feels so good to be able to relax, to enjoy the moment. I have a home, an apartment above The Wild Side that I’m not afraid will be taken away. I haven’t fixed it up yet, but it’s mine. Lucas has his. No one can throw us out. I don’t always have to be flexed, geared to battle the next problem.”
“Oh, Rustin.” Chloe looked up at him, that strong, masculine jaw, the hollowed cheeks crowned by bones that should be in Hollywood but thankfully were in Belmont with her. “That’s the sweetest, most heart-rending, most romantic feeling ever. I want to make you happy. I want to be home for you. I want you to feel like you can relax and rest with me.”
She threw herself in his arms, and he caught her just like in the movies. She tangled her hands in his hair and kissed him. The only thing that would make the moment more perfect would be if the first few snowflakes fell, but the sky, though portentously pregnant with clouds, clung greedily to all moisture.
Chloe sighed into the kiss and nipped his bottom lip.
“Very public, Chloe. We need to keep it G-rated,” he said and gently put her down, kissing the top of her head. “You are a teacher, and I am a business owner and don’t want to play into the bad-boy image everyone still has of me.”
“It’s very sexy,” she said, running her hand along his leather motorcycle jacket. “Total fantasy. The all-black, the boots, the jacket, the tats, the longish hair. Bad-boy vibe, and you know everyone is secretly longing for you.”
“I’m only interested in if you are longing for me.”
“Nothing secret about that,” Chloe admitted. “I was a sure thing since we were kids. I stalked you.”
“That’s right,” he said, and she reached up to touch his lips when she saw one of his rare smiles. “You’re a dangerous woman, but as much as I’d like to be alone with you, I do want to get some gifts for my crew before the stalls close. Up for helping me play Santa?”
“Definitely,” she said.
Always.