Just Home for the Holidays - Deborah Cooke Page 0,13
always got along really well, but you know, workplace rules, so it came to nothing. Now...” Chloe dropped her voice to a husky chuckle. “Well, everything’s different now since we work at different clubs.” She paused to listen. “Oh yes, I’ll see you at the party. Hunter, too. Of course, he’ll be there with me! See you, Josh.” She ended the call, leaned back and exhaled. “And so it begins,” she said under her breath.
“Is that what we’re going with?” Hunter asked. “Old connection, only being explored now because we’re finally both single at the same time?”
“And not working in the same club.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry. It was the best I could do on the spot.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s brilliant in its simplicity. We can totally make this work.” He leaned closer and bumped her shoulder. “You were great. Even I believed you.”
“Really? I’m not used to telling fibs.”
“Fibs.” Hunter grinned. “That was a snow job and it was fabulous. What you didn’t say was as good as what you did say. You gave him lots to worry about.”
She flushed a little. “Oh good. I think.”
“See, I’m already teaching you dangerous new skills. It’s like osmosis.”
Chloe laughed, her good mood restored, her gaze dancing over him. “Maybe we will have fun.”
“We will definitely have fun,” Hunter replied then his own phone rang.
Chloe stared as he pulled it out. “Your ringtone is Rhinestone Cowboy?” she asked, obviously incredulous.
“Yes,” Hunter said, punctuating that with a glare, then answered. It was Jacinda, which was good because he’d lost her new number and their usual restaurant had closed over the summer. They agreed to meet as usual for dinner on Christmas Day, and she’d found a different restaurant she liked. Hunter got the address. He only realized when he ended the call that Chloe was watching him.
And listening.
“So you do have at least one plan for the holidays.”
“I do now.” Hunter felt the weight of Chloe’s curiosity and against all expectations, he caved to it and told her more. “Old friend. We usually go for Chinese food on Christmas Day, but I wasn’t sure it would happen this year or not.”
“Why?”
“She might have been busy.”
“No. Why Chinese food on Christmas Day?”
“Because Chinese restaurants are open.” Chloe was waiting, so Hunter told her a bit more of the truth. The woman could coax secrets out of a sphinx with that expectant silence of hers. “Because once upon a time we were new in the city and had nowhere to go and ended up in the same restaurant,” he supplied quickly. “We shared a table because we were the only people there and we had such a good time that we agreed to meet there the next year. Etc.”
“How long have you been doing that?”
“Ten years. Give or take.” Hunter leaned forward to talk to the driver. “Can you let me out at this next corner, please?” He knew it didn’t matter that he’d told her about Jacinda, not really, but he felt exposed all the same. He reached for his wallet, but Chloe stopped him.
“Don’t worry about the fare. I’ll get it at the end.”
“Then I’ll get the next one.” Then on impulse, he leaned over and stole a kiss. Might as well start the charade and get some practice in.
He felt her stiffen, then soften when his lips touched hers. She smelled like heaven, that mix of perfume and her own skin. He wanted to turn the kiss into a real one, and give the driver something to look at.
“Le Carrousel Magique. Ten o’clock,” he whispered in her ear and heard her catch her breath. “Don’t be late.” He felt her shiver and it took everything in him just to get out of the cab.
One thing was for certain: he’d found his quest. He hummed as he walked, smiling at his own change of lyrics.
It’s beginning to look a lot like chaos...
During the cab ride, Chloe added Hunter’s shifts to her calendar, since it was only natural that she would know where he would be if they were fake-dating.
Then she started a list of things she wanted to know about him. Why that ringtone? She never would have guessed that Hunter was a fan of country music.
Why did he hate Christmas?
Why didn’t he have a home?
How could he perpetually house-sit and never have—or want—a place of his own?
Why had he ended up in a Chinese food restaurant on Christmas Day ten years before?
Why had he even come to New York in the first