Christmas Wishes and Mistletoe Kisses(107)

“I’ll bake them,” Abbey explained, “And then we can paint them for the tree.” She turned on the water at the sink. “You two can wash your hands and I’ll let you know when they’re ready to paint.”

The boys washed and dried their hands and Robin went with them into the living room. Nick walked over with dough still in his fingers. “Thank you for including me in this,” he said. “I’ve never done anything like it before.” He tried to brush his hands off by clapping them together but only succeeded in getting gooey dough on both hands.

“You’re welcome,” she said, and she meant it, unable to hide her amusement.

“I like doing things like this with you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It…” he searched her face as if she had the rest of his sentence, but she stayed quiet. “It makes me wonder about things.”

“What things?”

“How different things with you are.”

“Good different or bad different?”

He smiled and it went all the way up to his eyes. “Good different. I want to kiss you right now.”

“But that wouldn’t be a good idea,” she said.

His face became somber. “Why is that?”

“Well, your hands are full of dough.”

He grinned a crooked grin. “So, you wouldn’t want these on your face,” he said, holding up his hands. The dough was sticky and crumbly at the same time, a small piece falling to the floor.

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

He took a step toward her. “You wouldn’t want me to run them through your hair.”

She watched him, not believing for a second that he would actually touch her with those fingers. “No,” she said, but honestly, she couldn’t care less what was on his hands if he were kissing her. She got closer until she was looking up at him, telling him with her eyes that she wanted him to kiss her. He’d shown up today, he’d been involved, he’d talked to the kids. There was something so attractive about that, that she couldn’t deny what she was feeling.

He put his hands on her cheeks, the wetness of the dough cold against her face. She didn’t notice it for long because, in less than a second, his lips were on hers. The soft warmth of them was making her lightheaded. She put her arms around his neck, kissing him back. Playfully, she bit his lip, and his eyes flew open for just a moment before he resumed kissing her. He pushed his hands up the back of her neck and into her hair, the dough trailing behind, his mouth moving on hers urgently.

“I should make ornaments more often,” she said.

“Yes,” he said, leaning down for one more kiss.



* * *



“The chef is here. He’s got a lot of food already,” Robin said.

“Robin has asked him to make literally everything she’s ever had at a party before,” James said. “We have to narrow it to six hors d’oeuvres, two main dishes, and five desserts.” James and Robin were seated at the bar area with a line of white plates in front of them. Susan was standing at one end, a white cloth napkin dangling from her fingers.

Nick walked in the room and stood next to Abbey. “Looks good,” he said.

Susan clicked over to them on her high heels and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Hello, darling,” she said and then she looked at Abbey. “I’m so glad you two are both here! I’m trying to keep busy while Carl is out golfing. He doesn’t know a soul, yet he’ll be the first to chat with strangers if there’s a tee in the vicinity.”

“Want to help us decide between the garlic-roasted shrimp cocktail and the ham, Gruyère, and honey-mustard palmiers?” James said to Nick.

“Absolutely.” Nick went over to the sink to wash his hands and Abbey followed suit. Then, he walked around to the bar and picked up a little croissant-looking pastry.

It must be the ham-whatsits James had mentioned, Abbey thought. To her surprise he’d come back to her and was offering her a bite as she finished drying her hands. She leaned forward and he popped it into her mouth. It was the most savory, delicious thing she’d ever tasted.

“Those are my favorites,” he said with a little grin. “I used to ask for them whenever my parents had a party.”

“Mmm hmm,” she said, nodding, still chewing. She swallowed and set the towel down just as he handed her a stemmed glass with sparkling wine—another item set out for them to try. “It is very good.”

“The wine goes well with it,” he said.

She took a sip, and he was right. “If you already know what’s good and what you like, then why are you tasting things? You could’ve just told me what to order.”