Christmas From Hell (19 page)

“
That you were an artist,” he said, adjusting the large bag of ice on his sore balls as he watched her.

“
I’m not an artist,” she said in that absent tone as she picked up a gallon sized bottle of pure vanilla extract and began slowly pouring the liquid directly into the bowl big enough to fit a couple of kids.

He watched her face as she poured, the way her eyes watched the brown liquid pour into the batter as though she could see every single drop and her lips moved as though she were counting those drops. When she suddenly stopped the flow of vanilla with a smooth flicking action of her wrist, he knew that he was definitely watching a true artist in the midst of creating a masterpiece.

“
Yes, you are,” he said with a smile as he reached over and gently replaced a falling lock of black hair teasing her cheek back behind her ear where it belonged.

When the touch didn’t seem to phase her in the least or even register on her face, he knew that the klutz that she’d been showing him for the last year wasn’t the real her. Right now, he was seeing the real Necie and he had to admit that he was definitely intrigued.

*-*-*-*

Surprisingly, she didn’t want to kill him.

Not that she normally had homicidal tendencies, but when she was cooking for some reason, she did. Always had even as a child. Her grandmother, God bless her soul, used to love to watch her cook and see what she would create next when all Necie had wanted was for the woman to allow her to place a lock on the kitchen door so that she could work in peace. For whatever reason her grandparents made a big deal about leaving a three year old operating a stove and using chef’s knives unsupervised.

Since she hadn’t had much of a choice, and yes, she’d argued for those damn locks for years, her grandparents always made it a point to be in the kitchen when she was in there, or to work the bakery when she was working a shift, just to watch her work. It was sweet and all, but it also irritated the ever-loving hell out of her.

She hated when people watched her, hovered over her, asked her how she did this or that, asked if they could lick the bowl, try a sample, or how she knew how much flour she used without using a measuring cup. When she tried to explain that she just did, they would take that as an open invitation to ask her even more questions, demanding that she teach them her “tricks,” so that they could cook as well as she did and when she refused simply because she had no idea how she did it, she was suddenly just a selfish bitch.

So, after a while she’d stopped trying to explain herself and simply ignored everyone and everything around her and focused on the one thing that she loved to do. Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped people from trying to hover, ask questions or get in her way. Sometimes she ignored them, sometimes she used the glare that her grandfather had shown her to scare people off and other times, the man himself would step into the kitchen, focus his glare on the person bugging the shit out of her, wait until they got the hint and left her or alone or he would…

Okay, she really didn’t like to think about what he would do when they didn’t take the hint the first time, because sometimes just thinking about theirs cries of pain or pleads for mercy terrified her and she really didn’t feel like dealing with the nightmares later. They were unsettling and made her feel-

“
Go out with me,” the man that up to this point she’d been able to ignore, said, reminding her of his presence and the fact that she been able to work comfortably with him hovering around her.

It had surprised her how comfortable she’d been with him around, watching her, but then again, her response to his command probably surprised them both.

“
No, thanks,” she said, barely sparing him a glance as she reached past him, grabbed the bowl of eggs that she’d prepared and dumped them into the mixing bowl before she turned on the mixer, destroying the awkward silence that had followed, which was probably for the best, she decided as she returned her attention to adding the second bowl of eggs to the mixer while Duncan stood there, gawking at her.

Yup, she’d definitely taken them both by surprise, but what shocked her more was that she meant it. Her grandparents hadn’t raised a fool and it would definitely be foolish to give him another chance to hurt her.

Once had been more than enough.

Chapter 21

Wednesday, December 9
^th
.

“
Walk away,” Darrin said firmly to his right as Reese stepped up to his left and said, “Now.”

“
Not fucking happening,” Duncan said, ignoring the implied threat that the dozen or so large Bradford males standing between him and Dixon’s Bakery represented.

“
Just turn around and go home, son,” Danny, his brother and one of his best friends said sternly as he leaned back against one of the trucks they’d used to block him from entering the bakery and kept his glare locked on Duncan, daring him to try something.

“
I’m not leaving,” he said, keeping his attention on the front door of Dixon’s bakery as he waited for the woman that had obviously lost her fucking mind to come out so that they could finally have the talk that he’d been trying to have with her since yesterday when she’d lost her fucking mind.

That was the only way that he could explain it.

He’d asked her out and she’d flat out turned him down without batting an eye. For a minute there, he’d been too stunned to react. He hadn’t expected her to say no, especially that fast, so he’d waited, giving her a minute or two to realize what he’d asked her, reward him with one of those beautiful blushes of hers, jump up and down for joy, get down on her knees, sob a little bit and thank God that this day had finally come.

When five whole minutes went by and she still hadn’t realized her mistake and thanked the heavens above for such a blessing, he’d glared at her and waited. When a few more minutes went by, he’d realized that she’d probably hadn’t really heard him over the loud motor of the industrial mixer, which of course explained everything.

So, he’d reached over, went to press the power button to shut the mixer off so that he could give her another opportunity at a chance of a lifetime when the little bully slapped his hand and continued adding ingredients as though she hadn’t just physically assaulted him.

Pouting the way only a Bradford could, he’d folded his arms over his chest and waited for her to finish, apologize for the unwarranted abuse and commence with the tears of pure joy when she realized the honor that he was bestowing on her.

Did that happen?

No, of course it didn’t.

So, he made one more attempt to shut the mixer off, received another slap for his efforts, a murderous glare as she continued to ignore him. His hand had literally flinched with the need to spank her beautiful ass again, but he’d somehow found the willpower not to do that…at least, until she’d given him no other choice. Just when he was about to pull the stubborn woman over his knee, the unexpected happened.

Her grandfather showed up and man, had he been pissed. Before Duncan had a chance to explain himself or ask Necie to give him a minute so that he could apologize, something that he was going to do no matter what it took, the old bastard had been holding a very large meat cleaver and showed him the door.

Since the meat clever had been aimed towards his still healing balls, Duncan had been forced to accept defeat and leave. Before the door managed to close behind him, old man Dixon let him know that he was now officially banned from Dixon’s Bakery.

He would have argued with the bastard, but he’d also taken that moment to tell Duncan to stay away from his granddaughter as he slammed the front door shut in Duncan’s face, leaving him standing there, fuming.

Nothing pissed him off more than being told what to do and his cousins and brothers trying to keep him from the busy bakery in front of him knew that. They knew him well enough to know that he didn’t fuck around if there was something that he wanted.

Coming between him and his goal was a huge fucking mistake and the only ones that seemed to have realized that were his Uncles, who had been smart enough to stay out of this. He kept his gaze locked on that front door and waited, because there was no way in hell that he was going to be given the brush off again, not when he was this fucking intrigued.

*-*-*-*

“
Seriously?” she asked even though she knew that it was pointless to argue since the man that had apparently lost his mind was completely serious.

“
You’re not going out that door,” Grandpa said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest as if that would somehow make him look even more intimidating.

Granted, the employees that had been eavesdropping had taken that as the sign to move their asses and go back to work, but it only irritated Necie. “Move,” she said, mimicking the gesture and meeting his cold glare head on.

“
Not happening,” he said, shaking his head just enough to get his point across as he continued standing there, doing his best to frighten her, but for whatever reason, he’d never accepted the fact that she wasn’t afraid of him.

Well, she was sure that at some point he’d realized the truth, but had probably taken it as a challenge, which could also be said for the stubborn man refusing to vacate the sidewalk across the street from them.

“
I’m tired and going home,” she said, refusing to point out that she’d been working since three this morning, because he was already well aware of her work schedule today since he’d insisted on accompanying her in to work this morning and had refused to leave her side since.

For all twelve hours of her shift, he’d been right there, watching her, standing next to her, following her and refusing to give her a single moment of peace. She didn’t even want to think about the bathroom incident, which she’d only made the mistake of making once.

Since once had been more than enough, she’d done her best to ignore him, but it was kind of difficult to ignore an ex-marine determined to watch her every move. A few times she’d tried to distract him with phone calls, paperwork that really didn’t need his attention and when she became desperate to use the bathroom without him hovering, a platter of double fudge cupcakes, but nothing worked.

For the past twelve hours he’d watched her every move, driving her closer and closer to the point of insanity, and possibility first-degree murder. When she told him to stop it, he’d simply reached over, gave her a condescending pat on her head and told her to move her ass so that they could prepare for the lunch rush. Glaring, and making plans to pick up a bottle of dried liver flakes to add to his boiled chicken and potato dinner that she was making him for dinner tonight, she moved to walk around him, but he simply ignored her, wrapped his arm around her and lead her towards the backdoor, uncaring that she was fuming or planning her revenge.

“
My van is parked out front,” she bit out between clenched teeth even as she was forced to reach over and slap the back of his hand when he tried to sneak a double fudge brownie off a platter.

“
I had it moved before lunch,” her grandfather said with a triumphant sigh when they reached the back door. Then, without another word, he opened the back door, gave her a little push to kick her out and then promptly closed the steel door behind him with a deafening click, leaving her all alone in the alley that made up the back parking lot.

“
Alright then,” she said, shaking her head in disgust as she hugged her backpack tightly to her chest, shot nervous glances around the basically clean and well-lit back parking lot and focused all of her attention on the brand new black Dixon Bakery delivery van that had been paid for by the lovely insurance company that couldn’t seem to find a clause to cancel their policy no matter how many “accidents” or “incidents” that seemed to happen when she was behind the wheel.

Shooting one last glare at the heavily locked steel door behind her, she reminded herself to review the tapes later to make sure that her grandfather wasn’t using this as an excuse to, “live it up,” as he’d like to call it and taste test every sugary sweet treat in the place. Thankful that she’d purchased the Gold package so that she could watch the surveillance videos at home, she made plans to pick up a pizza on the way home, a gallon of chocolate milk since she’d had a really difficult day thanks to her grandfather’s hovering, and made plans to review all the footage from today, praying that she found an excuse to call his doctor and rat his ass out so that the doctor could pull him in for another one of those conversations that he liked to have with him and scare some damn sense into her grandfather.