Chapter 6
Callie
The next morning, Christmas carols play softly from the radio as Mary recounts meeting Christopher at a Christmas Eve dance when they were teenagers. That was the moment she knew she was in love with him. The two of them have been inseparable ever since.
Mary and I are working in the kitchen together. We’ve just started on a batch of sugar cookies. I’m a little bit nervous because I was hired on how well I interviewed. Mary hasn’t actually tasted my sweets.
When she asked me the secret to making good cookies, I answered love. Then I told her that love tastes a lot like butter. It was my mom’s joke, but Mary laughed and hired me after I said that.
Danny is in the kitchen with me, but he’s in a playpen. He’s near enough that I can get to him if he cries, but he’s not so close that he’s in danger of getting near the oven or anything that could hurt him like the mixer.
I haven’t seen or heard from Nate. I haven’t asked Mary about him because I don’t want to know if he’s gone already. He probably is, but I’m holding onto just a little bit of hope that he’s still around, and I’ll get to see him again later.
Mary’s phone rings. She dusts her hands on her green apron that has a reindeer on it. She answers the call and listens for a moment then says, “OK, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
She hangs up the phone. “Something is always breaking down on the ranch. That’s just the way farm life is.”
“You can go tend to it. I’ve got this,” I tell her as I press cookie cutters into the flour dough on our workstation. I scoop up the snowman carefully, not letting him fall apart and place him on the baking sheet.
“This is a huge batch. I’ll send you a helper,” she promises as she steps away. She pulls off her apron, putting it on the hook near the back door. There are four or five aprons with various Christmas designs. The one I’m wearing is red with a smiling snowman complete with a hat and stick arms.
“That’s not necessary,” I reassure her.
She scowls at me and it’s the first time she’s looked unhappy since I arrived. “It is necessary. It wasn’t my intention to throw you in the deep end all at once.”
“This is my job. It’s what I’m here for,” I remind her, keeping my tone gentle. I’m not against help, but I don’t want Mary thinking I’m some delicate flower who needs constant reassurance and guidance.
Her expression changes then, softening as she glances at the play pen where Danny is staring up at a mobile with a swinging monkey. “That might be true. But you don’t have to do everything on your own anymore.”
With that, she shrugs into her coat and leaves, closing the door quietly behind herself. Christmas carols continue to play on the radio in the kitchen. I’m singing along and shimmying my hips.
Danny watches me, laughing in delight at my exaggerated dance moves. I didn’t imagine just twenty-four hours ago that I’d already be at the ranch and feeling so happy.
“This is the happy dance,” I tell Danny, clapping my hands together.
There’s the sound of a throat clearing, and I turn around to find Nate and Rudy standing in the doorway. I was having so much fun with Danny that I didn’t even hear them come in.
My heart skips a beat at the sight of Nate standing there in his cowboy boots, blue jeans, and faded flannel. But it’s the look on his face that takes my breath away. He looks like he’d rather shove aside all of the cookies and eat me as his sweet treat.
“I’m here as the official cookie tester. Mary sent me,” he explains, his voice low and gritty like he’s thinking about the same thing I am.
“I thought you left.” There’s no disguising the curiosity in my voice or the longing.
He crosses the kitchen, invading my space until I step back. I like how he’s crowding me, as if he wants to be just as close to me as I want to be to him. His gaze goes to my lips, lingering there for a long moment. “I couldn’t leave you behind.”
The oven timer dings, startling me. I step around Nate, pretty sure that he sniffs my head as I go around him. “I’m not leaving until after the Christmas Eve bonfire. It’s an annual event, and Mary loves it when her boys are here for it.”
I pull the cookies out of the oven and set the pan down. When I turn, he pulls his attention upward. He was clearly eyeing my ass and my cheeks heat in a way that has nothing to do with the warmth of the cheerful kitchen.
I work to keep my tone neutral so he can’t tell how much he’s affecting me. “Well, don’t stay because of us. We’re settling in just fine.”
Danny makes a delighted noise as if he’s agreeing with me that we’re doing well in the new place.
Nate crosses to the playpen. It’s more of a baby gate on the floor with no bottom other than a soft rug. He steps over it, joining Danny in the play area. “Hey, buddy, you’re going to help me test the cookies. It’s a two-man job.”
I laugh. “He doesn’t need all that sugar.”
“We always need sugar, isn’t that right?”
Danny smiles at him, and Nate glances at me. “Can I pick him up and hold him?”
“You have to support him correctly. He’s floppy. He doesn’t have as much muscle tone as other kids his age.”
Nate holds him like a pro without needing any pointers. “In one of my foster homes, there was a girl who had Down syndrome. I helped look after her for a few months.”
“Where is she now?” I ask softly, my mama’s heart squeezing. Every mom wonders about their child’s future. It’s part of being a parent. But when you’re the parent of a child with complex medical needs, those fears are magnified.
“She’s married and has adopted two kids of her own. She’s happily teaching kindergarteners,” he answers. “We still see each other sometimes, and we’re friends on social media.”
“So, you understand the condition?”
“A little, not much. I only helped her when she was very young before I moved to the next foster home. We didn’t reconnect again until she was an adult.” He makes a funny face at Danny, trying to get him to laugh. “Does he have heart problems?”
I move the cookies to the cooling rack, talking as I do.
“No, he doesn’t. That was my biggest worry when they told me about the T21.
I was so afraid for him, for what his life would look like.
” I shake my head, most of my fears for him never came to pass.
“But he’s just like any other baby. He wants to be loved.
He’s beautiful and strong. He’s my tough little warrior. ”
When the cookies have cooled enough to begin the decorating, Nate helps me. He holds Danny who keeps reaching for things. Each time, Nate manages to intervene, anticipating the moves before he can make them.
“This is his newest skill,” I explain. “He has grabby hands now that he knows he can touch other objects.”
“He’s good at it,” he agrees when Danny grabs a chunk of his beard and gives it a big tug. He giggles at Nate’s wince. But ever patient, Nate just moves his hands and offers him a rattle to hold instead.
We spend the rest of the day in the warm kitchen, making Christmas cookies and talking.
I’m surprised how easy it is to talk to Nate.
He doesn’t say much, but he does ask me a lot of questions about myself and Danny.
He doesn’t hit any of the hard questions though, like where Danny’s father is, and for that, I’m grateful.
Mary eventually returned to the ranch, but she barely said two words to us and didn’t offer to help with any more baking. It’s little wonder. Her hair was disheveled with twigs in it, and her face was flushed. Plus, her shirt was on inside out.
I hope I’m like that in my sixties, having crazy hot, middle of the day, need you now sex with a man that I’ve been with for decades. If that man happened to look like Nate, well, that wouldn’t be such a terrible thing.
“This is the nicest Christmas I’ve had in a long time,” I tell him as the final batch of cookies goes into the oven.
“Me, too,” he says softly, his attention focused on putting the perfect number of sprinkles on his snowman cookie. We’re sitting at the island, almost done with our hours of work. My back aches and my feet hurt, but I’ve never felt happier than I do right now with him.
“You said you wanted to be the taste tester.” I take a swipe of frosting from the bowl on my finger and hold it out to him.
Heat flares in his gaze, and he opens his mouth. But before he can enjoy the lick, I dot his nose with the frosting instead.
He growls, “You are in so much trouble.”
I don’t know why those six words in his deep baritone turn me on so much, but my panties dampen. I want to be his kind of trouble.
He grabs the bowl of frosting dipping his thumb into it. I’m up and around the island, scrambling out of reach. But Nate is faster than me, and he quickly corners me between his hard body and the wall.
“Open up,” he insists.
Fair is fair, so I do. Unlike me, he isn’t teasing. Or maybe he is, but it’s a different kind of teasing because he does swipe it across my tongue. I close my lips around his thick digit, sucking on it as the sweet frosting melts in my mouth.
I whimper at the same moment that he swears under his breath. He pulls his thumb free then his lips are crashing against mine. He kisses me like I’m his oxygen, the very thing he needs to breathe.
His hands are squeezing my body, mapping my curves through my clothes. His tongue is tracing my mouth, learning all of the little secret strokes that make me moan.
Every touch is gentle and desperate. We’re both afraid to wake from this beautiful dream, to find that we’re once again lost in a sea of loneliness without the other.
He’s so big, caging me between his body and the wall. With every panting breath, my breasts push up against his chest. My fingers go to his hair, tugging on the short strands. I need more of him. I need us to meld together until we’re one being, one soul sharing a single body.
It’s over too soon, and I blink at the sudden loss of his lips and his touch. I sag weakly against the wall. If the man can kiss like that, I can only imagine what his stamina would be like in bed.
Still rattled, he reaches into the oven. Like me, critical blood flow must have been diverted from his brain to southern regions.
I manage to gasp out, “Mitts!”
He shoves his big hand into one and yanks out the tray. He sets it down with a clatter and turns to me. I expect him to grab me and kiss me again. But he doesn’t. He just stares at me for a long moment, his chest still heaving from our impromptu make-out session. “I want to take you out on a date.”
I run my tongue along my swollen lip. I’m still tingling everywhere. This is not the best frame of mind to be making decisions in. “I’ve kind of sworn off men.”
A pleased expression crosses his face, and he leans in close. “Good. You don’t need a man. You need a cowboy with the stamina to ride all night long.”