Chapter 27 #2
Each tawny brick was slathered with an edge-to-edge picture of Alec in full rugby kit, with his arms flexing on his hips and a Santa hat perched on his head.
The grumpy face he was sporting had been a joke during the shoot, a way to make everyone laugh and cut some of the tension of their deadlines, but the ladies had run with it, apparently, even to the extent of including a thought bubble poking above his head saying, “Bah, scrum-bug!”
“Has anyone ever told you two that you’d make excellent crime bosses? You can’t be serious with all this.” But even he couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice. Not fully.
“You can’t hate me. It’s against the rules,” Marisa admonished, pushing out her lower lip.
“Especially not when I’ve lost count of how many people have been running by my table, and the night’s just getting started.
Monica’s been super happy, too. She stopped by a few minutes ago to check on things, and she even gave me a thumbs-up.
A thumbs-up, Alec!” There was a catch in her voice that had hooked itself somewhere within his rib cage, and damn if he didn’t feel every giddy reverberation of her happiness.
“I could never hate you. God, Marisa. I’m so fucking proud of you. This is bloody amazing.” The sentiment was filled with more truth than he had recent practice with, and the magnitude of it all stunned him for a moment.
Because it was true. All of it. And this woman was standing there, beaming at him like he’d been the one to give her some remarkable gift?
He had it on his mind to tell her as much, when she shifted a bit, her gaze snagging on something another partygoer was munching on.
The light in her eyes dimmed a touch, and he tried to make out what it was that had caused her consternation, but he was at a total loss for how to describe what was in the guest’s hand.
“Is that woman eating flowers?” he asked.
Marisa shook her head. “Not real flowers. They’re gingerbread meringue poinsettia petals.”
“So, not flowers? Because they look exactly like flowers.”
“Whatever pastry chef Phoebe has on her team outdid themselves. The bright-red flower petals and green leaves are all made of sugar and egg whites, just brushed with Jamaican gingerbread extract and dusted with some edible glitter.”
“Ah. Have you tried it?”
“Oh, I’ve tried it. Totally tastes like betrayal.
It was also . . . Ugh, it was also really damn good.
Like, really, really good.” Then she bit her lower lip and traced a hesitant finger around a plastic-wrapped piece of Alec’s face-fudge, her self-confidence visibly unraveling through the worried action.
“Phoebe made good on her threat, that’s for sure, though I’m surprised I haven’t run into her yet so she can gloat properly.
I guess I’m just worried everyone’s going to compare gingerbread flavors and find mine lacking. ”
“Uh-uh!” Eden held up a finger in correction before handing two more treat boxes to Cal to ring up.
Then she swatted her open palm lightly on Marisa’s forehead.
“Stop it. Just stop. No one will give a festive fuck about whose gingerbread flavor is better than whose because they’ll be too busy sinking their teeth into Alec like the snack he is. ”
“Ha!” Cal’s boisterous laugh rumbled around them, puffing out his massive chest and giving all the ladies floating nearby an eyeful of his straining shirt buttons while the men grumbled into their drinks.
“I’ll have to agree with Miss Eden on that one.
How many times have you had a store-bought birthday cake that tasted delicious solely because you were biting into something eye-catching? ”
“See!” Eden threw out her hands in Cal’s direction. “The man knows what he’s talking about.”
“Not usually,” Alec muttered, feeling ten kinds of uncomfortable being the subject of what should be spotlighting Marisa instead of him. “He just really likes cake and isn’t one to discriminate against its upbringings.”
He was itching to flip that flame around somehow.
He didn’t deserve a bit of the genius Marisa had poured into her business.
And he certainly didn’t deserve any credit for what she’d crafted onto the face-fudge.
It was her idea to model him in such a way, her idea to put him in his kit and plop a Santa hat on his head.
He’d done his fair share of photo shoots and sponsored clothing ads, so he was used to the attention his physicality afforded him and viewed it as a whole lot of nothing special.
The important thing was that he and Marisa were in this together.
The more eyes that connected him to the game of rugby, the more favor he’d win in the negotiation game when the season ended, and the more recognition her business would gain.
Except, well, he hadn’t thought much about the negotiation bit recently, had he?
Not since he’d worked out an option with Argentina that was looking like it could suit.
No, it wasn’t perfect. He’d still be countries away for most of the season, and he wouldn’t be playing anymore, but he would still be involved in the game, in a way that seemed like the right choice, even if his heart hadn’t come round to fully accepting the scope of the decision just yet.
But it would. He would. For her. Because she was worth it.
For fuck’s sake, she wasn’t just worth it. She was everything, wasn’t she?
The realization tilted his lips into a smile, and he let that feeling warm him as he stepped back and watched his woman work.
And by God, she was magnificent in her element.
The way she schmoozed confidently with the guests, the way her bare shoulders were anchored well below her ears without a touch of tension, it was all an exercise in how long he could hold out before he whisked her away from everyone’s attention and stole her for himself.
So he could tell her what his heart had come to learn after only a few short days of knowing her.
Fuck. I love this woman.
The thought hit him like an eighteen-stone flanker, rattling his good sense and causing his chest to expand with an unfamiliar warmth.
And because he had no better alternative than to keep quiet and watch her work her magic, he did just that.
It wasn’t long before the two of them fell into an easy rhythm.
Her smiling and shaking hands with guests and town council members interested in her business.
Him catching glimpses of her self-confident smile and pocketing it away for tender keeping while he took a photo with people here and there.
It was all lovely.
It was all bloody perfect.
Marisa plucked three more treat boxes off the tower he’d stacked behind her and handed them to a waiting couple. “Here you go. Enjoy!”
“Oh, we will,” said the thirtysomething woman whose face had turned Santa-suit red when Alec had shaken her hand in thanks for the purchase.
The night pressed on pleasantly, with the kind of merriment only found among happy couples free of children on snowy evenings in December.
Even though the tent was heated and the crowds thick, it couldn’t keep out all of the crisp air, which was a godsend because breaks had become few and far between for Marisa.
Once a rare lull in the action finally found them, she’d managed to chug a few gulps of water and looked out over the attendees, then back at the treat boxes she’d worked so hard to prepare, which had dwindled to an envious few.
“Wow,” she said. “We really did it, didn’t we?”
“You did it. I was just the hired help.”
He hadn’t meant anything by it. Really, who did? Hired help was a common enough phrase in colloquial speech. But it had carried a different meaning between the two of them, one that had started what seemed like a mutually beneficial business arrangement but had turned into something so much more.
Marisa must have realized his gaffe as well, because she replaced the cap on her bottle of water, tucked it beneath the table, and sidled closer to him. Not making eye contact, staring out at the crowd, she said, “I have a crazy idea.”
Alec stilled, curious at the question at first, but then recalled another time not long ago when she’d confessed another crazy idea. One that had led to a kiss and a promise. “Oh?”
She bit her lip, still focusing on the crowd before them. “What if I asked you to put your arm around me?”
Alec couldn’t keep the adoration from his voice if he tried. He smiled down at her and said, “I’d remind you that I have two arms.”
He stood behind her and pulled her to his chest, holding her as close to his heart as possible.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” A tall older gentleman had approached their table, but he stopped short when he saw Alec and Marisa embracing.
They peeled off each other, and Marisa stepped forward.
“No, you weren’t interrupting anything. Welcome.
I’m glad you stopped by. Would you like to try a specialty treat box from Sweetest Heart’s Desire?
We’re a local gourmet confectionery, and we’ve put together an exclusive assortment for all the guests in attendance tonight. ”
“Actually, my wife has already sampled the offerings. Quite good, I’ll say, including the, uh . . . uh . . .”
“Gingerbread fudge?”
The crimson in the man’s cheeks flushed all the way north to his receding hairline. “Yes, that’s the one. Actually, that’s what I came over to talk about.”
“Oh?” A deep V formed between Marisa’s brows as she jockeyed her gaze between Alec and the man.
The latter had pulled out a business card and was offering it to Alec.
But before Marisa could inquire further, a contingent of council members approached Eden and Cal looking for her.
“Please excuse me.” Then she was off, leaving Alec alone with the bloke and his business card.