18. Hazel
Jareth’s phone rang as the credits to the movie started rolling. He answered the call, giving a curt sound of acknowledgement before hanging up. When he stood, I shifted to the edge of the bed to follow him.
“What’s going on?” I tugged on his hand to stop him from leaving the room without clueing me in.
His gaze gentled as a bright smile I didn’t see enough crossed his face. “We have a delivery.”
His cryptic reply had me scrambling off the bed and grabbing my shirt he’d tossed to the floor. “What kind of delivery?” I asked, finding my shorts next and pulling them on.
“It’s a surprise.” He turned on his heel and strode from the room with purpose. Did he expect me to follow?
I hurried after him into the living room, watching in awe as he opened the front door, revealing a parade of employees who entered our kitchen, their arms laden with grocery bags. They set them on the floor and quickly began to unpack what was inside.
The first staff member, a tiny woman maybe ten years older than me wearing the same white and turquoise uniform as everyone else, unearthed a bag of flour and placed it on the island followed by four more. My gaze darted between the four people standing in our kitchen, pulling item after item out from the reusable bags in front of them. Sugar, spices, then three cartons of eggs, and milk all lined up neatly on the counter in front of me.
Everything I needed to make the traditional cookies Gran and I made for Christmas was now set up in front of me. How in the world had Jareth known about all this?
I blinked back tears. How this man could ever have believed he was such a horrible person was beyond me. Bad men didn’t purchase cooking supplies as an apology. While it didn’t make up for me not being with Gran, his thoughtfulness eased the hurt a little more.
When they took out a Kitchen-Aid mixer, still in the box, my startled gaze connected with Jareth’s. “You got me a mixer too?” It was the exact model and turquoise color I’d been drooling over for the past few years. I never found a way to justify spending the money on it, and here it was, preening like a peacock on the kitchen counter in all its shiny glory.
He cleared his throat. “Your grandmother is expecting a call in a few hours to make cookies with you.”
My heart stuttered, and in seconds my feet flew across the floor. Jareth didn’t miss a beat. As I launched myself at him his arms banded tightly around me. The anger and frustration I’d felt at being whisked away disappeared. I still didn’t love how he went about this, but he was doing his best to make things right. My hands gripped the black fabric of his shirt as the tears I tried to hold in burst forth, soaking the front of it. He ran soothing circles across my back.
He held me until my eyes had dried and my sniffles had ceased. “How am I supposed to stay mad at you for bringing me here when you do sweet things like this?”
“It’s the least I can do.” His stilted tone drew my attention upward. My gaze studied his tight jaw and the slight tick of muscle that told me he was angry. Not at me, but at himself.
This was the Jareth I knew that existed beneath the hardened exterior he showed the world. He knew he messed up, and instead of just apologizing, he showed me with his actions that he regretted how it all went down.
“Thank you.” I tugged him toward the kitchen, now empty of staff. They must have snuck out while I bawled in his arms.
His gaze swept across the multitude of baking items covering most of the kitchen surfaces. “Is this everything you need?”
I laughed. “It depends.”
A frown caused grooves around his full lips. “On what?”
When he looked like he was about to call the staff back and demand they get whatever it was I needed, I spoke up. “It depends on how many cookies you think we’re going to bake.”
His frown deepened. “We? I don’t bake.”
I ran my hands up his shirt and looped my arms around his neck, loving the way his eyes darkened. I pressed my curves into his hard body. “You do now.”
The look of horror on his face went a long way into feeding the part of me that wanted to get back at him for bringing me here without my permission.
I slipped the colorful apron provided by the hotel staff over my head and tied the strings around my waist. I stood on my tiptoes and tugged Jareth down for a quick kiss before grabbing the second one and looping it over his head.
He’d grumbled the whole time about not baking until we’d reached out to Gran through FaceTime and she expressed how happy it made her that Jareth would be joining us.
I tapped the computer screen to bring up my video chat and waited for her to join us. She appeared seconds later and greeted us with a wave. “Merry Christmas Eve, Gran!”
“Merry Christmas Eve, sweet girl. Franny and I are ready.”
“So are we.” I grinned broadly and slipped my arm around Jareth’s waist, loving the warmth of his arm as it curled around me in return.
A tight smile crossed Jareth’s face and I feathered my fingers across his lips until they relaxed. My heart turned over and squeezed in happiness that he was willing to do this with me. I shifted out of his embrace and picked up a bowl. “Can you grab the sugar for me?” I asked.
Jareth grabbed the already pre-measured amount I’d poured before we started. As the butter and sugar creamed, I stepped back and handed the next ingredients to Jareth. “Add the egg and then the vanilla. Once it’s done, we can add the baking powder and salt.”
With an uncertain look at the gyrating paddle inside the bowl, Jareth tossed in the next two ingredients.
Gran smiled at us as she and Franny added their ingredients and conversed about the next steps. “Jareth, thank you so much for the lovely mixer.”
He grunted his acknowledgement. Apparently, he’d rush-ordered supplies to Gran, too.
I turned down the speed of the mixer and pointed to each of the ingredients as we needed them. I loved that Gran and I made these so many times, neither of us needed a written recipe as a guide.
“Can you lay out a sheet of plastic wrap?” I asked Jareth. Once we’d finished mixing the dry ingredients for our sugar cookies, I scraped at the edge of the bowl, working the dough into a big lump. “We need to let this sit in the freezer while we make the others.”
Muttered cursing had me stopping to giggle over watching Jareth fight with the finicky plastic.
“Need some help?” I asked.
“I’ve used plastic wrap before,” he mumbled, continuing to strip off small pieces instead of the longer sheet we needed.
Taking pity on him, I tugged the corners out of his grip and let him hold the box so we could unroll it to the length we required. I plopped the dough in the middle, wrapped it up, and set it in the freezer.
“Okay, Gran. Are we doing gingerbread next?”
She nodded, and before I could grab it, Jareth had the bowls and utensils in the sink. Silently, I watched him scrub the dishes. The muscles in his forearms danced and flexed. My breathing sped up and tingles of awareness sparked in me. I could stand here and watch him do this task all day long.
My grandmother’s throat cleared loudly behind me. Fire heated my cheeks as I reluctantly turned and met her stare. “Uh, um,” I stuttered, drawing Jareth’s attention to me with a tiny smirk on his lips. He’d totally known I was ogling him.
Gran and Franny’s peels of laughter had me covering my eyes with my hands for a few seconds. “Okay, sweet girl, gingerbread it is.”
“Once your beefcake is ready to get started.” Franny snorted in delight and fanned herself.
“Franny!” I half-heartedly chastised her, giving Jareth a once over. I bet Jareth had never been referred to as beefcake or at least not in his presence. He filled out his t-shirt and shorts in a way his suits never showcased. The tailored fit of the expensive bespoke fabric hinted at the muscles beneath, but seeing them on display this way made my stomach flip.
I realized this was the first time I’d seen him in anything this casual. Maybe being here in Bali was just what he needed, too.
He was insanely hot, and seeing this side of him, only made me want him more, but it wasn’t just the physical beauty of Jareth’s body. It was his desire to please me and make me happy. Times like today when I knew he’d rather do anything else than baking. Yet, here he was with me.
Jareth caught my assessing gaze, his eyes grew hooded as they raked up and down my body. Mercy! His gaze created a five-alarm fire racing through me. I pressed my hands to my cheeks to cool them down, catching my grandmother’s sparkling eyes filled with humor. I kept forgetting they were right there.
“Why don’t we start getting ingredients for the next batch together and maybe that’ll give you two a little time to cool off,” Gran teased me.
“Haha, Gran,” I responded with a touch of sarcasm and a smile to soften the blow. As I poured and measured the ingredients for the next batch of cookies, Jareth slid his hand around my waist as he set the clean bowl back in the mixer.
My heartbeat picked up and my breath caught in my chest as I glanced at him over my shoulder. I still had a hard time believing this was even happening. A part of me was afraid I’d blink and realize this was all just a dream.
Whether he picked up on my waffling set of emotions or not, Jareth brushed a kiss across the top of my head, and squeezed my hip before turning to face the camera.
“What’s next?” he asked, and my heart melted all over again.