Chapter 16 #2
Unable to help myself, I grin at my girlfriend. “Now that sounds like a tradition I can get behind.”
Callie lifts a brow. “You won’t miss skiing or making snow angels?”
In a few short strides, I’m across the room and wrapping my arms around her. Placing a kiss on her temple, I say into her hair, “I’m not a big fan of the snow. Besides, if I do feel the need to be senselessly cold, you and I can just warm up together, later.”
Chris looks ready to vomit as Callie giggles. “Right, well. Everyone else is already up and out the door, which means you’re already late. So I’d move it, if I were you.” With that, Chris turns and stalks back down the hall as Callie closes the door behind him.
As soon as the door clicks into place, I ask, “Dr. Hotness?”
Callie groans. “Trust me, you do not want to know.”
“Oh, I really think I do.”
She sends me a side-eye that would make Nacho proud.
Lifting my brow in response, I fight to keep my amusement from showing.
Tapping a finger to her chin, Callie weighs something in her mind. The moment she decides is clear as day. Her lips curl up into a mischievous smile. “You know, I think I’ll keep that one to myself. But thanks for the offer.” With that, she turns to the suitcase lying open on the floor.
Shaking my head, I make quick work of grabbing some khakis and a sweater that happens to be Callie’s favorite color. As I head toward the bathroom, a moment of bravery shows itself. “Cal?”
Sitting on the bed, she glances up from the middle of slipping on her shoes. “Yeah?”
I know what’s supposed to come out, but instead I ask, “Do you know how to bake cinnamon rolls?”
Callie bites her bottom lip, shaking her head. “Nope. That’s what the recipe book is for,” she laughs. “Cooking, I can do. Baking, not so much.” Narrowing her eyes, she looks across the small space to me. “Luckily, I have a boyfriend who’s pretty awesome in the baking department.”
“I’d be happy to help.” Not that I could deny this woman anything at this point. “In fact, I’d prefer it.”
“Believe me,” she laughs, “my entire family would enjoy whatever you’ll make more than anything I could produce.” Callie turns back to find her other shoe.
Pressing my lips into a flat line, I try again. “Callie? One more thing.”
“What’s up?” Curiosity coats every flawless feature as she takes me in, still clad in my pajamas.
“Um, I’d like to talk later.” The anxiety weaving through my chest loosens as I search those warm, inviting brown eyes. “If that’s okay.”
A small smile lifts her lips. “We can talk now.”
“We need to get downstairs,” I shake my head, “and I don’t really want to rush this conversation.”
“Are you being drafted?”
Laughter bursts from my lips. “Not this time.”
Callie stands, shrugging. “Good. I’d miss you too much, Rhodes.”
Hope blooms in my chest, that dangerous little bastard. A grin threatens to split my face in two. “Right back at ya, Rutherford.” You have no idea.
“Batch number three, done,” Callie sings with pride as she pulls another set of rolls from the oven. Taking a deep breath, she inhales the heavenly aroma. “I don’t think I’ve ever smelled such perfection. You know, other than you.”
My brain glitches. “Oh, uh great,” I say, making space on the counter. “I’ll grab the icing.”
Setting down the piping hot dish, Callie moves to where the finished batches wait on a large red platter featuring the big man himself. The holiday-themed dish overflows with newly iced cinnamon rolls, their mouthwatering aroma filling the kitchen.
“You think I smell good?” I dare to ask. Chancing a peek in her direction, I nearly expire on the spot.
Plucking a roll from its obscurity, Callie runs a finger along the icing. The woman nearly gives me a heart attack as she sucks the liquified sugar from her finger, groaning in appreciation. “Is there anything you don’t bake?” Either she didn’t hear my question, or is choosing to ignore it.
Forcing my eyes back to the task at hand, I do my best to process the question. “Macarons,” I choke out, the image of Callie’s lips wrapped around her finger still seared into my mind’s eye.
Wide, innocent eyes pull my gaze back to hers like gravity. “Why?”
“They’re delicate and I tend to burn them,” I confess, cheeks flaming.
“Hm. I imagine they don’t like that very much.”
Her comment makes me chuckle. “You know, they don’t. They tend to become rather angry, actually.”
“Yeah,” she sighs, “there’s nothing angrier than burnt macarons.” Cinnamon roll in hand, Callie makes her way back to my side.
Forming my lips into a flat line, I slide my eyes toward her, where a dollop of icing rests on the tip of her perfect nose. Without giving it a second thought, I lean in and press a kiss on the stray sugar. Returning to my full height, Callie blinks up at me, bewildered.
“What was that for?” Widened eyes dart around the room. “Is someone else here?” she whispers.
“Only the icing on your nose. Thought I’d use a surefire method of helping you out. If someone else sees, that’s just a bonus,” I laugh, shrugging.
Callie considers this, setting down the remainder of the treat. “So, if no one sees, then it’s just for practice?”
Turning toward her, I ask, “Do you think we need more practice?” It takes my entire focus to keep my hands on the icing tube and not on her.
“Oh, I think we’ve gotten pretty good at that particular part of being a convincing couple,” she says thoughtfully, eyes roaming my face. Her plush lips curve into a smile. “But I don’t think we’re anywhere close to perfect, yet.”
Setting down the icing tube, I wipe my hands on my apron. “And practice does make perfect,” I whisper, closing what little distance remains between us.
Chocolate eyes settle on my lips. “Did you know you have some powdered sugar on your lips, Dr. Rhodes?”
“We can’t have that,” I murmur. “Think you can help me out?”
Callie lifts onto her tiptoes, winding her arms around my neck as mine wrap around her waist. Smirking, she presses soft, pillowy lips to mine. “Much better,” she breathes, leaning back.
I shake my head, following her. “I think there’s still some left.” My lips find hers with ease, their siren song calling me home. Her arms tighten around me as I deepen the kiss.
Callie’s fingers dance up my neck, entangling themselves in my hair.
“I hope you remember to wash your hands when you’re done.”
Callie flies off me like shrapnel, throwing a hand to her chest. The one that was just in my hair. “Geez, Connie. You scared the crap out of me,” she pants.
My favorite sibling of Callie’s removes her wool scarf and gloves as her smirk only grows wider.
Moving further inside from the garage, curious eyes flit between Callie and myself.
“Sorry,” she says, “just thought I’d warn you that everyone else is headed in.
You know, in case you two needed to get cozy.
” Connie’s hawk-like vision doesn’t miss the heat rising in my cheeks.
At least she can’t hear how hard my heart is pounding.
“But it doesn’t look like you need any reminders,” Connie finishes.
Clearing my throat, I plead with my nervous system to relax. “We’ll take all the help we can get. So, thank you.”
“Um, right,” Callie nods with a little too much vigor, “thanks, Connie.”
Connie shrugs out of her coat, hanging it on a peg. “I may have had to bodyblock Christopher, but he thinks I’m just excited about the sweets.”
“Why does he think that?” I frown.
She snorts. “Because I talked them up all morning. Calloway mentioned your baking mastery, so I figure they can’t suck.”
Beside me, Callie nods. “They’re awesome,” she confirms. Hands on her hips, Callie grins at me. “Man, I really lucked out in the fake boyfriend department.”
“Shh!” Connie glances over her shoulder at the closed interior garage door.
As if on cue, the rest of the Rutherford women come barging in, shedding a layer per footstep.
“Merry Christmas Eve, Calloway. Oliver.” Lillian removes a snowcovered beanie, dropping it in a nearby laundry basket. “It smells wonderful in here.”
Imogene and Marigold scoot around Lillian, making a beeline for the overflowing platter of goodies. In a very Marigold fashion, she makes a pit stop to give Callie a tight hug and me a giggling smile before taking a roll in each hand.
“Calloway,” Imogene grabs a treat for herself, “I had no idea you could bake so well.” Callie’s oldest sister sends her a mischievous smile.
“I mainly made the icing.” Callie places a hand gingerly on my arm as I work on icing the final batch. “Oliver’s really the one you should be complimenting.”
Grabbing a napkin, Imogene looks from her sister to me. Her features soften. “Calloway’s lucky to have found you.”
The sincerity ringing through every word nearly knocks me off my feet. Blinking, I look at the oldest Rutherford sister. “Thanks, Imogene.”
Since both of Marigold’s hands are occupied, Imogene takes her by the shoulder. “Come on, Goldie. Let’s go grab a spot by the tree.”
Callie’s niece looks back our way. “Are Aunt Callie and Uncle Oliver coming, too?”
I’m pretty sure my heart stops completely.
Callie, in the middle of downing some hot chocolate, chokes.
Tossing the icing tube aside and wiping off my hands, I pat Callie on the back as she coughs. Never taking my eyes off her, I say, “We’ll be over there soon, Marigold. Be sure to save us a spot.”
Marigold giggles as she and Imogene head to where Lillian and Connie wait on the fluffiest rug known to man.
“Are you okay?” I ask, smiling. “Need some cinnamon rolls to help soak up all that errant hot cocoa?”
My girlfriend clears her throat. “Yeah, yeah. Make fun of the person choking to death.” But she grins up at me. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“You and Imogene seem to be getting along much better.” I nod to her oldest sister, sitting on the couch with Marigold on her lap.