Page 90 of Holiday Hopefuls
“But it doesn’t look like you need any reminders,” Connie finishes.
Clearing my throat, I plead with my nervous system to relax. “We’ll take all the help we can get. So, thank you.”
“Um, right,” Callie nods with a little too much vigor, “thanks, Connie.”
Connie shrugs out of her coat, hanging it on a peg. “I may have had to bodyblock Christopher, but he thinks I’m just excited about the sweets.”
“Why does he think that?” I frown.
She snorts. “Because I talked them up all morning. Calloway mentioned your baking mastery, so I figure they can’t suck.”
Beside me, Callie nods. “They’re awesome,” she confirms. Hands on her hips, Callie grins at me. “Man, I really lucked out in the fake boyfriend department.”
“Shh!” Connie glances over her shoulder at the closed interior garage door.
As if on cue, the rest of the Rutherford women come barging in, shedding a layer per footstep.
“Merry Christmas Eve, Calloway. Oliver.” Lillian removes a snowcovered beanie, dropping it in a nearby laundry basket. “It smells wonderful in here.”
Imogene and Marigold scoot around Lillian, making a beeline for the overflowing platter of goodies. In a very Marigold fashion, she makes a pit stop to give Callie a tight hug and me a giggling smile before taking a roll in each hand.
“Calloway,” Imogene grabs a treat for herself, “I had no idea you could bake so well.” Callie’s oldest sister sends her a mischievous smile.
“I mainly made the icing.” Callie places a hand gingerly on my arm as I work on icing the final batch. “Oliver’s really the one you should be complimenting.”
Grabbing a napkin, Imogene looks from her sister to me. Her features soften. “Calloway’s lucky to have found you.”
The sincerity ringing through every word nearly knocks me off my feet. Blinking, I look at the oldest Rutherford sister. “Thanks, Imogene.”
Since both of Marigold’s hands are occupied, Imogene takes her by the shoulder. “Come on, Goldie. Let’s go grab a spot by the tree.”
Callie’s niece looks back our way. “Are Aunt Callie and Uncle Oliver coming, too?”
I’m pretty sure my heart stops completely.
Callie, in the middle of downing some hot chocolate, chokes.
Tossing the icing tube aside and wiping off my hands, I pat Callie on the back as she coughs. Never taking my eyes off her, I say, “We’ll be over there soon, Marigold. Be sure to save us a spot.”
Marigold giggles as she and Imogene head to where Lillian and Connie wait on the fluffiest rug known to man.
“Are you okay?” I ask, smiling. “Need some cinnamon rolls to help soak up all that errant hot cocoa?”
My girlfriend clears her throat. “Yeah, yeah. Make fun of the person choking to death.” But she grins up at me. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“You and Imogene seem to be getting along much better.” I nod to her oldest sister, sitting on the couch with Marigold on her lap.
Callie nods. “That’s definitely improving.” She takes the icing from where I’d dropped it, picking up where I left off. “Imogene’s always been so awkward when it comes to me. I think she’s finally understanding we can have a relationship without her feeling like she’s betraying our parents, or Prescott, too.”
“Who’s betraying me?” Prescott asks with only a mild edge in his voice. Cool eyes slide between his sister and I.
“Goldie,” Callie answers with ease, “when she eats eight cinnamon rolls instead of five, like you told her she could.”
The oldest Rutherford sibling merely sighs before narrowing his eyes at me. “They must be good, then. Good thing, too. Connie went on and on about them this morning.”
I shrug. “I know my way around a kitchen.”
“Daddy!” Marigold screeches. “Aunt Genny and I saved you a seat.”
