Christmas from Hell

She needed a nap, she decided as she risked a glance up and saw that it was barely eight o’clock in the morning, which meant that she had five more hours if she was lucky before she could go home and pass out. Then again, she could excuse herself and go to the office and get some work done and maybe sneak in a quick nap, she thought, sending a hopeful glance towards the locked office door.

“Don’t even think about it,” Grandpa said as though he could read her mind, and considering the fact that he always seemed to know what she was up to, there was a good chance that he could.

That was a terrifying thought she’d save for another time, probably for that therapist her grandfather might drive her into seeing one day. She wondered if she’d get a discount if they met him and realized that she was actually very fortunate to have turned out normal. Probably, she decided as she reached for a peeled apple and began the tedious process of slicing it for the apple pies that they were making for the dinner rush.

“Excuse me, Mr. Dixon?” Maryanne said from the front of the restaurant.

“What is it?” he asked in that gruff manner of his without looking up from what he was doing.

“A customer has asked if Necie could work the grill for his order,” she announced, which probably happened a few dozen times a day so it wasn’t really a big deal.

“I’ll be right th-”

“She’s busy,” Grandpa said, cutting her off and taking her by surprise, because Grandpa never had a problem when a customer made a special request to have her cook.

So, why did he have a problem today? she wondered, shifting her attention to Maryanne. “Who is it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” her grandfather said, but she wasn’t listening.

“Duncan Bradford,” Maryanne said with a big smile that Necie found contagious.

“I’ll be right back,” Necie said, removing her baker’s apron and headed to the wash area.

“Woman, I forbid it!” Grandpa said sternly.

“Uh huh, that’s nice,” she said absently, biting her bottom lip as she struggled to hold back the huge smile that was trying to take over her lips and give her away, but she couldn’t help it.

“You go out there and you’re fired!” Grandpa warned.

“You gave me the majority share of the bakery for my twenty-fifth birthday,” she reminded him, not really paying attention to him or caring that all the employees had stopped what they were doing to stare at her grandfather in a new light.

They thought that he couldn’t fire them.

She should probably stay and rectify that bit of confusion, but she had grill duty and she wasn’t one to put off doing her job. Besides, the others would figure it out once someone did or said something stupid to earn his attention, they’d figure it out quickly that her grandfather was still the managing partner in this business.

Trying not to look too eager to see him, because of course she had to play it cool like most sophisticated women did, she casually strolled out into the front cooking area, grabbed a fresh apron, donned it along with a Dixon’s Bakery baseball cap, double-checked that her ponytail was tight and washed her hands, all while pretending that she didn’t feel a certain pair of emerald eyes running up and down her body, taking in every curve, every single movement, somehow making her entire body tingle with anticipation and all she was doing was taking his breakfast order.

She was pathetic, but she really didn’t care, not when it came to-

“Your apron’s on fire!” Maryanne yelled, earning a heavy sigh from her, because of course it was.

*-*-*-*

“Let me see your hand,” he said, still trying to figure out how her apron had managed to catch on fire when she’d been more than two feet away from the open ovens.

Then again, this was his little jinx that he was talking about here, so this probably really shouldn’t surprise him. While Necie adamantly refused to show him her hand, he muttered a few curses, undid the ties keeping the smoldering apron attached to her and within a few seconds he had it off her and dumped in the wash bucket full of cleaning rags in the corner.

When he was done, he looked up at her with a look that told her that she had exactly three seconds to show him her hand or he was going to hang her upside down and-

“Fine!” she sighed heavily, sounding putout as she held her hand out to him before she released the cutest little squeal when he picked her up and carried her towards the back, past the curious employees and the man that kept sizing him up for a body bag and brought her straight to the back sink where he plopped her beautiful ass down on the counter.

“Don’t move,” he said softly, but the warning was clear.

Besides, with the way that she tried to run away, she’d probably just trip over her own two feet within a few seconds and then they’d be right back here, only he’d probably have to break out the first aid kit as well. Thankfully, she didn’t try to move or make a run for it as he turned on the water to cold, grabbed her burnt hand and-

“Ouch!” she gasped on a surprised scream as the cold water hit the injured skin on her palm that was still burning.

“What the hell are you doing to her?” Mr. Dixon demanded, stalking over to them, clearly intent on taking over.

“She has a second degree burn on her hand. I’m stopping the burn from spreading,” Duncan simply said as he held Necie’s hand beneath the cold water, refusing to let her pull it back even a centimeter.

He ignored the numbing pain that was starting to spread through his fingers and hands and kept her hand there, ignoring the tears that were coming down her face because it killed him to see them and focused on stopping the burn from spreading.

“You’re hurting her!”

“No,” he said, keeping his voice calm as he leaned in rewarded Necie with a brush of his lips for her bravery, “I’m not.”