Chapter 18
He received a few pensive stares, but no one called him out.
Then again, who in their right mind would expect to find JK Kenzie behind a buffet table, ready to place a slice of gammon or a lobster tail on their plate?
He was dressed like every other server — khaki shorts, a hotel-branded white golf shirt, a blue apron, and a paper Christmas hat perched on his head.
And strangely enough, he was enjoying himself. Who wouldn’t? A mild shore-breeze took the sting out of the summer heat. A local quartet played easy, drifting melodies with only the occasional Christmas tune tossed in. And he had an uninterrupted view of the woman who held his heart.
She looked exquisite today. He wondered if she’d worn that dress just to tease him. More than once, he’d had to shut down the very real urge to toss her over his shoulder and disappear into her office for a very long while.
His heart damn near skipped a beat when her hand came to rest in the middle of his lower back.
“You know,” she murmured, “you really don’t need to be serving food.”
Her eyes had lost the sadness from earlier — clear blue now, full of humor and completely unguarded.
“If you’re working, so am I,” he said lightly. “Besides, it’s not the first time I’ve been behind a buffet table.”
“Let me guess — deep immersion for a role.”
“Nope. Soup kitchen.”
For a beat, her expression went still … then warmth bloomed across her face. Approval. From Suzette.
Damn, that felt good.
“Do you do it often?” she asked softly. “Serve in soup kitchens?”
“Not nearly enough.”
Her fingers grazed the leather thong bracelet — the one she’d tied around his wrist that morning. “Are you sure you like this?” she murmured, touching the abalone shell whale fins bracketed by brass beads. “You don’t have to wear it.”
There it was again — that quiet thread of uncertainty slipping through her confidence, tugging at something deep inside him.
He set the tongs down and caught both her hands, lifting them to his mouth.
He kissed the back of one, then the other, lingering just enough for her to feel it.
“You made it, sweet Suze,” he said. “With these beautiful hands of yours. No one has ever made me a gift before.” His voice roughened. “It means everything to me.”
“Just as it should.”
A sharp-eyed, red-haired woman stared at them from the other side of the table.
Suzette immediately slipped her hand from his grip and turned toward her. “Mrs. Harmon, merry Christmas to you,” she murmured.
The woman — elegant in her seventies, dressed in a green as bright as her eyes — flashed a wide red smile. “And to you too, my dear. A wonderful buffet, as always.” Her piercing gaze slid back to him. “I see you’ve snagged yourself a bit of a celebrity.”
Thankfully, the woman lowered her voice for the last part.
Justin stiffened.
Suzette let out a soft gasp. “Mrs. Harmon … please …”
The woman waved her bejeweled hand. “Oh, relax, Suzette. I’m not going to out the two of you. It’s about damned time you had a beau in your life.”
And then those sharp green eyes swung back to him.
He resisted the urge to squirm under her penetrating gaze.
“I come to Paternoster every Christmas,” she declared. “Stay in my son’s house just up the road. I’ve watched this hotel change over the years — transform into the jewel it is today. All under the care of our dear Suzette. Do yourself a favor and hold on tight. You won’t find a better woman.”
“I completely agree, ma’am. My sweet Suze is an absolute gem.” He glanced at said gem beside him. Arms folded, watching him and Mrs. Harmon spar with equal parts horror and amusement. “But the thing is … is she willing to put up with me?”
Mrs. Harmon narrowed her eyes, lips pursing thoughtfully. “Hmm. I see your point. You do come with some … complications.”
He offered a wry smile. “A few, yes.”
“Take heart, dearie. Love can overcome complications.” She thrust her plate toward him.
“Now dish me some lobster. And don’t be stingy.
Not with what I’m paying to eat here today.
Although” — she sniffed — “considering the caliber of waitstaff they employ these days, it’s no wonder they upped the price. ”
He couldn’t help but laugh as he placed a generous portion on her plate. “You’re a hoot, Mrs. Harmon.”
“You may call me Clarice.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “But if you want to stay incognito, lose the Breitling,” she stage whispered. “That watch is a dead giveaway.”
*
Suzette followed Justin out onto the patio and sank into a chair with a heavy sigh. “I was going to suggest a walk on the beach, but I honestly can’t imagine another moment on my feet.”
“Not surprising,” he said. “You’ve not had a break all day.”
She shrugged. “Par for the course.”
“But you love it.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“It makes me happy.” Suzette tilted her head, as old memories surfaced. “Christmas in the home was always a bit … bleak. One of our few highlights was the Christmas movies they let us watch.”
She blinked, the connection suddenly clicking, and looked at him. “Remember The Little Lantern Keeper?”
He frowned. “The movie? The one where I played the boy?”
She nodded. “There was this one scene … a family on the edge of town, just about to sit down to their Christmas dinner. You placed that lantern on their porch, and it guided the lost man and his daughter through the snow straight to their door.”
She smiled faintly at the memory. “The family invited them in. And for the first time in years, that man and his little girl had a happy Christmas.” Drawing in a slow breath, she admitted, “And I decided that’s what I wanted to do one day — make Christmas magical for other people. Like you did.”
Justin stared at her, the moment stretching between them. “You’re kidding,” he finally said, his voice quiet. “That … that movie meant that much to you?”
“It changed my life.”
He blew out a slow breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t believe it. I thought that role was lame. I sulked about having to play ‘the sweet kid with the magical lantern.’ I wanted to play a cool teenager or at least something where I didn’t have to wear a knitted Christmas scarf.”
Suzette’s lips twitched. “You looked very cute in that scarf.”
A startled laugh escaped him. “I was twelve. Cute was the last thing I wanted to be.” His expression shifted, softening. “I honestly didn’t think anyone took that movie seriously.”
“You’ve had a huge influence on my life, Justin. Your movies…” Suzette hesitated, realization hitting her square in the chest, almost knocking the breath from her. “Your movies … they matter.”
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but she pushed on, words tumbling out now that the truth had found its way to the surface.
“You give people a chance to escape. To lose themselves in the magic. Whether you’re jumping off moving trains or blowing up an underwater city.
Or melting hearts with a one-liner in a rom-com.
” A small smile tugged at her mouth. “Or wearing a knitted scarf and giving a young girl a purpose.” Her voice softened.
“You make the world feel lighter … even if just for a little while.”
She saw something flicker across his face — a mix of disbelief and wonder — and before she could overthink it, she leaned in and closed her fingers around his arm, needing him to feel how real this was to her. “You cannot stop making movies. It—”
“Suzette—”
She didn’t let him finish, placing a gentle finger on his lips, feeling the warmth of his breath catch beneath her touch. “Let me finish. I know what I said about being second to a man’s career. And I meant it. I’ve lived that life.”
Her throat tightened, but she pushed through it. “But asking you to stop doing what you were born to do … that would be selfish. Cruel, even. It would rob people of the magic you create on screen.” Her hand slipped down, resting over his heart. “I won’t allow it.”
His eyes closed for a moment, as though steadying himself, and when they opened again, she saw fear and hope tangled together in them.
“Please …” His voice was quiet, rough. “Please don’t ask me to walk away from you.”
The plea carved straight through her. Because in that moment — watching a man the whole world claimed as their own look at her like she was the thing he couldn’t bear to lose — she finally felt the truth beginning to take shape inside her.
She couldn’t bear to lose him.
And she wasn’t the woman from twenty years ago. She was strong, capable, and this marvelous man loved her. The thought steadied her.
Last night, the thought of telling him had felt impossible. Certain he’d look at her differently; certain he wouldn’t understand.
But now … she finally felt safe enough.
Suzette rose to her feet and stepped in front of him. Justin looked up at her, confusion flickering with something far too vulnerable. She lifted her skirt, swung a leg over his and settled onto his lap, straddling him, close enough to feel his breath catch.
Cupping his face in both hands, she held his gaze — held him — as though anchoring them both.
“Before we talk about the future, there’s one more detail about my past I need to tell you.”
His hands settled on her hips, grounding her. “You can tell me anything,” he murmured, voice soft but sure. “Nothing you say will diminish how much I love you.”
Her breath stuttered. She dropped her gaze, toying with the button on his shirt, needing the small distraction to keep from falling apart. The back of her fingers caressed the dusting of hair behind the tab. “It’s about … when Miem brought Esther and me back here,” she said softly.
*
Justin forced his hands to stay loose and steady. “Tell me,” he said, trying to keep his voice even, even as dread coiled low in his chest.
“After Braam’s death, I only had my job at the church to support Essie and myself. It was barely enough to keep us afloat, but we managed.”
Justin’s stomach tightened. He hated the word managed. The way she said it, like survival came down to scraps.
“Then one of the elders propositioned me. A married elder,” she spat.
Heat flashed through him — anger, sharp and bright. His jaw clenched so hard it ached, but he forced himself to listen, not react.
“I threatened to tell our pastor, and the man backed off. But then his wife publicly accused me of seducing her husband.”
Justin felt his vision blur at the edges. “Suzette …” His voice cracked, helpless, furious on her behalf.
“I tried to defend myself, but she had enough influence to turn the congregation against me. And I was fired.”
He exhaled a shaky breath, the kind that scraped down the throat. Fired. Punished for surviving. For protecting herself. It made him want to tear something apart.
“It placed us in a precarious position,” she continued softly. “I started hunting for jobs immediately, but finding work proved difficult as the church refused to give me a reference. And the money dried up …”
Justin couldn’t stop himself — his hands slid from her waist up to her back, pulling her closer. He needed her nearer, needed her to feel held. Safe. “What did you do?” he whispered.
“I made a placard,” she said, voice barely above a breath. “And stood on a street corner. And begged. Job, money, food. I wasn’t picky.”