“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.
