Wild Holiday Nights. Samantha Hunter

started carving, silently inventing ways to kill her brother Nathan the next time she saw him. She was going to give her older brother an earful for dragging her into whatever was between the two men.

      “There. How’s that so far?”

      Calla had been so lost in her ruminations that she wasn’t paying attention to the minutes ticking by. Gideon’s question shook her out of her trance to find him holding half of a perfectly shaped bell in his hand. He’d managed to get that far in the same time that she had barely made a dent.

      “It’s...great.”

      It was better than great. It was easily as good as hers.

      “Don’t sound so glum about it.”

      “I guess I should have studied carpentry instead of pastry,” she muttered, knowing she was being a bad sport.

      His bell might actually be better than hers, with a few little flourishes that she approved of. There was even a small smattering of applause outside the window as onlookers approved of his effort. She’d reopened the window not to embarrass him on purpose, but because she did so on a schedule, when the most people were walking by at intervals during the day.

      A few more than usual were here this afternoon. Drawn in by her new helper? A number of them were female.

      “So I get to stay and help you out?”

      She frowned. “Looks like.”

      Then he put his cake and knife down and reached across the table to put his hand over hers.

       Ay caramba.

      Calla was pretty sure her entire body sizzled at the touch. Just like it had years ago.

      She drew her hand away, self-conscious with people watching.

      “Calla, listen, if you really want me to leave, I will. Would you mind, though, if I stop by the station and check in on their progress finding your attacker? And maybe let me take you to dinner tonight? I can’t go back until tomorrow anyway.”

      Damn, he was being so nice. Calla knew she was being unreasonable.

      “I’m sorry, I just... It’s family stuff. I’m mad at Nathan, and at life, but I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

      “Want to tell me about it?” he asked gently.

      Calla let out a breath she was holding. He was being so nice. She ended up telling him about the financial trouble the shop was in, her guilt about not going home and just about everything else.

      “So you see, I shouldn’t go to dinner, but it’s not about you. I have to keep working on this,” she finished. She didn’t sound very convincing, though, even to herself. “I have to do whatever it takes to keep this place going.”

      “Well, you have to eat.”

      “Gideon—”

      “Why don’t you let me help you at least finish the bells? Then we can see?”

      Calla considered. Why was she being so stubborn about this?

      “I...guess. I mean, if you really want to, I wouldn’t say no. They seem to like you.”

      She looked out at the crowd—noticing the appreciative looks several women closer to the window were giving Gideon.

      “I’d better bring out some samples.”

      “I can do it, if you like.”

      “Um, sure.”

      She put together a tray and let him take it out. She noticed he grabbed a stack of the business cards she kept on the counter and took those as well, handing one out with each sample.

      Why hadn’t she ever thought of that?

      She continued to work as he chatted with the group and eventually came back in with an empty tray.

      “You received rave reviews, as usual,” he said. “And I had an idea.”

      “What’s that?”

      “Why don’t you let them decide on whether you should go to dinner with me tonight?”

      “What?”

      “Make them feel more involved. We can ask them if you should go to dinner with me.”

      “Are you saying we should take a vote?” Her voice rose slightly, incredulous.

      “Why not? Maybe if you can find more ways to get them involved each day, you’ll draw more and more people. That’s the point, right?”

      Calla narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure you’re a cop?”

      He grinned. “My sister’s in marketing.”

      “I see. That was a good move with the business cards. But I think I can make up my own mind about dinner. If we can get enough work done, I think it would be nice. Thank you.”

       And I might not say no to anything else you have in mind, either.

      Not that she would throw herself at him again only to be rebuffed—she’d had enough of that—but...her eyes drifted down to his hands.

      Gideon grinned, sitting back down after washing his hands again.

      “You already told them to vote yes, didn’t you?” Calla intuited, and saw his smile widen.

      She felt the responding smile tug at the edges of her lips, her mood lightening somewhat. It was kind of nice to have someone to talk to as she worked. She hadn’t shared a kitchen with anyone for a few years, and she’d missed it. Or maybe it was Gideon’s company in particular that was so nice.

      “What about your own family? Don’t you need to be home for the holiday?” she asked.

      He returned to his bell, finishing it up before walking to the freezer to grab another hunk of cake.

      “No, not this year. That’s part of why I offered to help Nathan out. My mother passed away over the summer, unexpectedly. My sister invited me to her place in Arizona for the holiday, but honestly, it was easier to get away. I’ve never seen New York at Christmas, so I figured, why not?”

      “I’m so sorry to hear about your mom. You were close?”

      “We were. She raised us alone—my dad died in the line of duty when we were kids, so you know how it is.”

      Calla swallowed hard. She did know, sort of. Her family had had their own share of close calls.

      “I do. Dad was almost killed in an accident when I was twelve, and I lived in fear every time he left the house after that. For Nathan, Bill and Gina, too, for that matter.”

      Gideon frowned. “Is that why you left? Too much worry?”

      Calla looked up sharply. “I didn’t leave. I went to school, which happened to be here in New York. But yes, I suppose it was nice to be in an environment where I didn’t have to think about the danger they were in every day or listen to all of the police and fire reports over dinner every night.”

      “Not to mention how much of a pain in the butt it had to be when your older brothers were all cops, too,” Gideon said with a grin, lightening the mood. “Had to make dating tough.”

      She rolled her eyes, laughing. “You have no idea.”

      She and Gideon worked and chatted for a few more hours, until the skies outside the shop window darkened. When Calla got up to stretch her legs, she saw it was snowing like crazy out.

      “I still love seeing the snow,” she said. “We got some in Texas now and then, but not like this.”

      Gideon joined her at the window.

      “This is the first snow I’ve ever seen—real snow, not the slushy Texas stuff,” he said.

      Calla