All's Fair in Love and Chocolate (Marietta Chocolate Wars #1) - Amy Andrews Page 0,60

to him. “Wow.” She looked around her as Reuben also sat and gestured the bartender over. “This place is kinda posh for us.”

It was merely an observation not a criticism, Reuben knew that—he could hear it in the matter-of-fact tone of her voice. But it put him on the defensive. He supposed she had guys take her to these kind of establishments in the cities she’d lived all the time. Vivian was one classy woman and in that dress and those boots it looked like she belonged here—not at Grey’s Saloon or the diner.

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

The bartender arrived and Vivian gave him her order before turning back to Reuben, her knees brushing his, her gaze falling on the gift bag for the first time. She stared at it for a beat or two with confusion then what looked like trepidation before carefully schooling her expression and raising her eyes to meet his. “I thought we said no Christmas gifts.”

Reuben picked it up by the red raffia handles and placed it in front of her. “It’s not a Christmas present,” he said with a nothing-to-see-here smile. “I swear. I just…saw it today and…thought of you.”

She looked from him to it and back to him again. “You did, huh?”

“Yep.” He nodded. “You’ll understand when you open it.”

If she opened it… She was looking at it like it was a ticking bomb and he wouldn’t be surprised if she refused. The thought irritated him suddenly. He was allowed to fuck her but not buy her something pretty?

“I…” She glanced down then back up again. “I didn’t get you anything.”

Reuben gave a half laugh, a half sigh. “Vivian…I didn’t expect you to get me anything; it was just an impulse thing. It’s not for Christmas, I promise.” He nudged it toward her because now he really wanted her to open it. “But I think you’ll like it.”

The bartender interrupted by putting Vivian’s wine down and she thanked him and took a sip before returning her attention to the gift bag, putting her hand inside and withdrawing the box that was a couple of inches across the base and about four inches high.

It was the original box which, given it was almost eighty years old, had seen better days but he was pleased he hadn’t wrapped it in the Santa paper he’d almost bought for the occasion. She was freaked out enough as it was without getting Santa involved.

Placing the box down on the bar, she opened the top flap, glancing at him as she reached inside to pull the object out before looking back at the music box. Reuben glanced at it again because it was impossible not to. It was quite unlike anything he’d ever seen and here, in the understated elegance of the Graff, the music box with its old-fashioned craftsmanship and well…whimsy, looked perfectly at home.

Returning his attention to Vivian, he watched as she examined it, her frown of irritation softening and then dissolving as her expression morphed to one of utter delight. “Ohhh, Reuben,” she murmured breathily. “It’s…enchanting.”

It was. Just like her.

The inch-high, round base was made from milky mother-of-pearl and embellished with swirly clusters of fine silver filigree. Nestling it in her palm, she brought it closer to study it, turning her hand this way and that as her gaze roved over the myriad decorative details.

Atop the base protruding from its outer circular edge were four exquisite mother-of-pearl panels abutted to form a semi-circular screen. On the outside they had the same swirly silver filigree embellishments. On the inside a glossy hand-painted scene of a snowy wood graced the panels. Dark green pine trees, their branches and tops laden with snow, formed the perfect backdrop as they towered over the two, inch-high figures, placed in the center of the piece on a mirrored floor that was tarnished in a spot or two.

It was a man and a woman dressed in old-fashioned clothes similar to what the carolers had worn at the Stroll. They were standing in a waltzing position but they weren’t dancing. Ice skates were on their feet and their scarves and her hair and dress blew out behind them to indicate movement.

They were skating. On a lake. Surrounded by woods.

“There’s a winder on the bottom.” Reuben reached for it. “May I?”

She nodded and Reuben took it, surprised all over again at how heavy it was for such a small object. Flipping it over, he turned the winder, and set it down on the