Spicy with a Side of Cranberry Sauce by Rachell Nichole Read Free Book Online Page B

the bottom. The last thing he needed to do was startle her into knocking over or dropping something.
    She didn’t stop whatever she was doing. He stepped off the last stair and into the kitchen just as she spun around. And dropped the can of cranberry sauce she’d been holding. He crouched and snatched the can from the air for the second time that evening.
    He looked up when she gasped. She was covering her mouth with her hands.
    “Hi,” he said.
    She reached down to take the can from him and set it on the counter. She extended her hand, and he took it. He wanted to yank her down beside him, or on top of him, but he let her help him to his feet, trying to ignore her nightclothes. She wore a small pair of pink shorts. He had to look twice as she pulled him up to make sure they weren’t underwear. A thin black tank top barely covered her breasts and left an inch of bare skin between the bottom of the fabric and the top of the bikini-sized bottoms.
    She blushed, and he blinked, looking around the kitchen. He’d been staring at her inappropriately. And was still holding on to her. He let go of her hand immediately and moved back two steps. The kitchen was a disaster area. All the groceries he’d put away earlier and a ton more lay all over the island and counter around the sink. The fridge was wide open, and a pad of paper sat among the food.
    “What the hell are you doing?” he said.
    She looked down and shifted from one foot to the other. She muttered something, but he couldn’t hear her.
    “What?” he said.
    “I was just trying to make sure everything was ready for tomorrow.” She sounded so lost. So unlike the openly snarky, vibrant woman she’d been earlier tonight. He fought the urge to wrap her in his arms and comfort her. She probably wouldn’t take comfort from him now anyway.
    “You clearly haven’t known my mother very long. Trust me. Everything will be perfect. It was actually very unusual for her not to have everything bought before tonight. But I’m sure she didn’t forget anything on the lists she gave to either of us.”
    He looked down at the pad on the counter. And the ten pieces of crumpled yellow paper that littered the counter and the floor. How long had she been down here? She cleared her throat, and he stepped back even farther from temptation.
    “I’m sorry,” Amy said. “I know you probably think I’m a crazy person. Between racing through the grocery store and falling all over the place and this mess…I really couldn’t blame you.”
    “I don’t think you’re crazy.” Okay, maybe a little. But he kinda liked her that way. And he was pretty sure her thick bottom lip quivered just a bit. What had her so anxious? He picked up the list and looked it over.
    “It’s just…this is the first Thanksgiving we’ve celebrated since my mom passed. And I don’t want anything to mar it for Dad.”
    He turned to look at her. “How long has it been?” The words were a whisper.
    “Fifteen years.”
    The sheen of tears in her eyes broke his heart. God, he couldn’t imagine. No wonder James had been so reluctant to come down here for the holiday. Mason stood there, paralyzed for a moment, unsure what to do. He had to do something in the face of her suffering. Even after fifteen years, the loss of her mother must cut deeply.
    He stopped fighting his instincts and enveloped her in his arms. He was desperate to offer what little comfort he could, despite his promise to his mom to keep his distance. Instead of pushing him away in anger as he half expected her to do, she clasped her hands tightly behind his back and rested her cheek against his bare chest. A few tears slid down between his pecs, peppering his skin with goose bumps. He ran his hands up and down the soft fabric of her shirt, trying to soothe her. Holidays had been a huge deal in his house forever. What would it have been like if he hadn’t celebrated them his whole life? And what if Mom hadn’t been around? His throat