Her Mistletoe Magic. Kristine Rolofson

      “Give it another day or two,” Nico said, handing her the crutch. “Don’t risk hurting yourself before then. I’ll help you move back home after the wedding.”

      She thought about that while he helped her to her bedroom and turned down the quilted comforter. She’d made her bed this morning by hopping carefully on one foot.

      “Do you need help with anything?” He held her gently by the waist, ignoring the dog who had woken from his nap under the kitchen table and now pattered into the room.

      “No. I’m fine.” She’d hung the flannel nightgown on a hook on the back of the bathroom door, tucked her makeup and toiletries into two empty drawers by the sink. She didn’t intend to be a messy or demanding houseguest.

      “Okay, then.” He hesitated, then leaned down and slanted his mouth over hers. Her arms went around his neck in the most natural way, her lips responded to the warmth of his. On a scale of one to ten, the kiss was a fifteen, with extra points for self-control, Grace decided, pulling back slowly.

      “Good night,” he whispered, touching his lips to her cheek, her earlobe, her neck.

      Shivers.

      “Good night,” she managed to croak, though part of her wanted to grab him by the front of his shirt and haul that sexy mouth of his back to hers. She resisted, but just barely.

      “See you in the morning,” Nico said, giving her a quick hug before practically running out of the room.

      Grace thought about that kiss as she brushed her teeth, washed her face and slipped the nightgown over her head. She thought about it as she lay in Nico’s beautiful guest room bed, his dog snoring softly next to her. Her foot ached and her arms were sore from using the crutches, so she was content to be snuggled under the covers and nestled into mounds of down pillows.

      He’d kissed her as if he meant it.

      She was going to have to be very careful. He might intend to stay here in town and he might be perfectly content with running the lodge’s restaurant, but would that last? She’d thought Josh was going to stay forever, too, and look what happened there. She’d been left alone, after being certain they had a future together.

      No matter what Nico said, Grace didn’t think Chef Vitelli was the domestic, small-town guy he thought he was.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      NICO WAS PREPARED this time. Yesterday he’d been caught by surprise when his nephew and sister arrived for the dog, but this morning he expected visitors.

      And visitors came, shortly after he’d checked in with his staff, taken care of a few minor staffing issues due to something called the Jingle Bell Run, arranged for one of the wedding guests to deliver breakfast to another wedding guest, discussed a frozen-blueberry shortage with Michael and okayed next week’s meat order.

      “Is she still here?” His middle sister, Cathy, followed her nephew into the living room. She wore jeans, a thick vest and hiking boots. Her long brown hair was wrapped into a braid that hung over one shoulder and her cheeks were pink from the cold. She was his most domestic sister; she baked bread, sewed quilts, knit and made sure that her younger brother’s house was clean. Her two little ones, both girls, had their mother’s cheery disposition and their father’s red hair.

      “She is. And she’s in the shower, so don’t go barging into the bedroom wanting to meet her.” He handed Al’s leash to Brian. “Here you go, kid. He’s all yours until tonight. I might be working late.”

      “That’s okay, Uncle Nico.” Al wagged his happiness and grinned at the boy. “He can sleep over if you want.”

      “I won’t be that late,” he said.

      “Do you have a date?” Cathy arched her eyebrow at him.

      “No, I have a bridal shower. A last-minute thing that was supposed to have been a rehearsal dinner,” he explained. “Grace and I are putting together a wedding for tomorrow night.”

      “‘Grace and I,’” she repeated, looking amused. “Interesting.”

      “Yes,” he said. “It is. So get out of here. Where are my beautiful nieces?” As if he had to ask. No doubt she’d dropped them off at Grandma’s house so she could accompany Brian to fetch Al. He half expected Beth to show up any minute, though his very pregnant sister might be too far along to feel like leaving her cozy home in town. He guessed she’d be waiting for an update from Cath via text, though.

      “With Mom. You’re making breakfast,” Cathy said, pushing past him to peer at the kitchen counter. “Your famous French toast. And berries. You have fresh raspberries, for heaven’s sake!” She turned an accusing eye on him. “You only make that for us on our birthdays.”

      “Out.” Nico pointed toward the door from which Brian and Al had just exited. “Now. Before Grace sees you and is embarrassed all over again. She’s not too pleased about staying here, but her condo in town is on the second floor. And she’s on crutches.”

      “That’s what Marie said, not that we believe that for a second. She could have stayed at the lodge.”

      “All booked up,” he said, pointing once again to the door. “It’s our busy season.”

      Cathy didn’t budge. None of the women in his family were easily bossed.

      “Mom said you might be bringing her tomorrow.”

      “I certainly plan to.” He was going to do everything in his power to make sure that she came with him. She was alone, with no family, on Christmas. But she had him, and she had the Vitellis. If he wanted her to know him as someone other than Chef Hollywood, she would have to see where he came from.

      “That’s serious.”

      Nico didn’t reply. Instead, he took her elbow and guided her to the front door. “Think what you want, Cath. I have to get ready for work.”

      “Good luck.” She gave him a quick hug before she left. “I hope she’s worthy of you.”

      He couldn’t help laughing.

      “I CAN’T BELIEVE tomorrow is Christmas Eve already.” Patsy handed Grace a cup of coffee and sat down in the chair across from the desk. “First things first, are we set for the Jingle Bell Run today?”

      Grace looked at her list. “Yes. We donated three prizes—two spa packages and a Valentine’s Day weekend stay. Seven of the staff are participating and there will be some celebrating in the bar afterward, I suspect. The guests received invitations to join or watch.”

      “I donated a couple of reindeer hats and one very ugly Mrs. Santa sweater. And I assume we’re ready for the wedding?”

      Grace waved a hand toward the stacks of boxes. “We are ready. Nico loaned me one of his interns—”

      “I heard she was thrilled to get out of deveining shrimp.”

      “Yes. That’s what she told me. And she—Jilly—follows directions beautifully,” Grace said. “Noelle loved the little pinecone place-card holders, too.”

      “You have the names of the guests? That was quick.”

      “Our new bride gave me a list and the seating chart. That girl wasted no time getting this together, thank goodness. Ted’s been helping any way he can. They make a good couple.” She took a sip of coffee. “Thanks for this.”

      “The chef’s special blend.” Patsy grinned. “He seems quite smitten.”

      “That’s an old-fashioned word.”

      “I’m