Her Mistletoe Magic. Kristine Rolofson
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had to laugh. “Ridiculous.”
“Not so ridiculous,” her friend pointed out. “You two have a lot in common. You both work in the hospitality business, you both like working with people and you’re both good at what you do. You live in the same town, you’re old enough to know what you want. The people you work with respect you both. Plus, he’s very good looking and he comes from a nice family.”
Grace thought about what Nico had told her last night. “He’s very close to them.”
“Another plus.”
“You sound like a matchmaking service.”
Patsy shrugged. “I’m just pointing out the obvious. Just don’t tell me you’re still in love with what’s-his-name. And don’t tell me your heart is still broken over that guy, because you’re smarter than that.”
“I’m not heartbroken,” Grace declared. “But I am a little more wary that I used to be. You can’t blame me for that.”
“Blame you for what?” Nico, wearing his official chef’s jacket and unofficial blue jeans, stepped into the office. He held a legal pad in his hand and smiled at both of them. “Should I come back later? I just wanted to go over the menu for tomorrow night.”
“Stay,” Patsy said, giving Grace a quick wink as she rose from her chair. “I have accounts to deal with. You’re staying for the shower?”
“Absolutely. Jilly has gone into town to get a gift certificate from the Adirondack Store for me. That’ll be my gift.” She eyed her foot. Still trapped in the boot, it peeked out from the hem of her swirly gold-and-green skirt. She’d chosen a deep emerald V-neck sweater and gold snowflake earrings to continue her holiday-themed week. “I’m glad my Christmas shopping is all done because I’m not in any shape to hit the stores now.”
“Thank God for that,” Nico said, moving aside for Patsy. “I’m a terrible shopper and I’d have to go with you to make sure you didn’t trip on any of the Christmas decorations. How long do we have to stay?”
“We?”
“I go where you go, babe. Unless you want to try to drive with that boot on your foot.”
She didn’t.
“For an hour or so into the party,” Grace said. “I need to make sure everything is set up the way her friends want it. There will be enough staff members there to take over for us after that. Do you need to stay late in the kitchen?”
He shook his head and plopped down in the chair across from her. “Michael can handle the dinner service. We expect it to be fairly light, so we can head home whenever you like.” He looked down at his notes. “So, let’s talk about our wedding, shall we?”
EVERY TIME HE saw Grace she was in motion. She’d organized the table arrangements, created a gift table and used some of those little lighted jars to decorate the buffet, all while propped up on crutches. Nico had kept the food simple, turning the formal rehearsal-dinner food for the Barrett guests into hearty appetizers. Maria had baked chocolate cupcakes and the interns had practiced their cake-decorating skills by frosting them. He’d had to demonstrate proper pastry bag technique, which meant the opportunity to show off a bit.
Just like on television.
It had all been worth it. The bride and groom had been completely surprised, having been tricked into thinking they were meeting friends for dinner. The mood in Wildwood was festive, with the groom’s favorite blues track playing from the speakers and the bride’s friends laughing and talking nonstop.
The interns, basking in the glow of compliments from their boss, continued to put out appetizers. He waved to Patsy, who gave him a thumbs-up and then made her way through the crowd to greet him.
“Nice job, Chef.”
“Thank you.” They both looked at the happy couple. Grace was explaining something to them, waving one hand toward the gift table as she spoke. One of the EMTs who had taken her to the clinic approached, put his arm around Grace’s waist and then whispered in her ear.
“What the—”
“He’s no competition,” Patsy said. “At least, I don’t think so. He’s been asking her out for a year and she hasn’t said yes yet.”
“There’s always a first time,” he grumbled. “The guy looks like Paul Bunyan. He could carry her off to the top of the mountain and we’d never see her again.” Seriously, the guy had legs like tree trunks and a chest the size of Montana.
“But she’s been spending all of her time with you,” Patsy pointed out. “And in your house, no less. I hope your intentions are honorable.”
“I’m taking her to meet my parents tomorrow. Does that count?”
“She said yes to that? Good.”
“She did.” He couldn’t help sounding proud. “I told her she was doing me a favor.”
“If you hurt her I will take all of your fancy, expensive knives down to the beach and use them to cut firewood.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Nico said. “Duly noted.” He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he locked them up at night.
HE MISSED HIS chance to help Grace to bed. He had to deal with seventeen text messages and nine voice mails. The texts, from his sisters and his nephew, involved food, dog care and requests for wine recommendations. The voice mails were from his father, his mother, three friends vacationing in Mexico and his agent in LA.
His cell phone rang again once he arrived back home with Grace in tow. She’d insisted on using the ramp and managed just fine by holding on to the railing. It was clear she was feeling better, which meant he’d soon have to let her go.
But maybe not for long. She’d kissed him last night as if she’d meant it.
He had hope.
A lot of hope.
She blew him a kiss before she limped down the hall, Al following devotedly behind her, just as Nico wished he could.
“MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE. Nice dress.” He held out a cup of coffee as she hobbled into the kitchen.
“I try to match the wedding colors. Merry Christmas Eve to you, too.” She sat down and leaned her crutch against her chair before taking the cup. “Thank you.”
It was early, not quite eight o’clock, but Grace had set the alarm on her phone. She knew that the earlier she was at work today the better. She’d showered and dressed in a burgundy lace dress that she could wear all day. The shoes were an issue. She needed flats—well, a left one—for her one uninjured foot. The garnet Manolos she’d planned on wearing were not going to work.
“Wedding day,” he said, taking a big gulp of coffee. “Got to get the caffeine working.” He was dressed casually, in a black sweater and jeans. His hair curled, damp from the shower, and he looked sleepy. “I’m looking forward to it, but I am not a morning person.”
“What should I bring to your parents’ house? I can’t arrive empty-handed.” She’d thought about that the moment she woke up: hostess gift!
“Not food,” he said, looking at his watch. “I can make breakfast here or at work. It’s up to you. Maria’s doing muffins today, for the Christmas buffet tomorrow.”
“Muffins. Well, half a muffin,” she