Robyn Read online

  Even though it meant losing a paycheck, Gabe was anxious to get filming over with too. His fifteen-year-old brother, Nick, would be on school break and home all day. The kid didn’t do well with being alone. Maybe had to do with the fact that he’d been in foster care until he was five.

  Gabe was thirteen years older than Nick and hadn’t been able to get custody of his brother until he’d turned eighteen and gotten a steady job. By then, Nick was five and in all-day kindergarten. Gabe had work as a private security guard on the night shift, leaving Nick with a sitter overnight and sleeping while he was in school.

  That worked out until four years ago, when Nick started running away at night. It was then that Gabe found the job at the studio so he could be home. Most days, their schedules met up, but there were times when Gabe worked late and Nick floundered in the loneliness.

  Speaking of trouble, two women with bright eyes, big purses, and a ton of energy breezed through the door. It was like trumpets announced their arrival, turning every head in the lobby their direction. The smell of vanilla and sugar wafted over him as the doors whooshed shut. Neither woman wore a heavy coat, hat, or gloves against the twenty-five-degree weather. Their cheeks weren’t flushed from the stiff wind either. Gabe leaned forward to look out the window for a car, but nothing was near the door. He narrowed his eyes, sensing that something was off with these two.

  “I’ll check us in. You check your hair.” The shorter, dark-haired one handed the other a small hand mirror and pranced off to the receptionist desk.

  The taller woman with the auburn hair did a quick assessment and then stashed the mirror in her shiny black purse with two leather tassels. She had on a pair of tight jeans that brought to mind the term “painted on.” Not because they were indecent, but because they fit her so well.

  Gabe had always liked long-legged women. Cameron Diaz had nothing on this girl. Her top, a flowing red blouse, hung loose while allowing her natural curves to tease.

  The thing that got him the most was that she wasn’t working what her mama gave her. Not like the other women who walked through that door intent on taking a leap into fame and fortune who strutted and sashayed and shimmied.

  This lady was dazzling without even trying.

  Gabe was halfway across the lobby before he knew his feet were moving. There was something … magical about her.

  When he stopped in front of her, she turned a pair of big gray eyes on him. “Yes?”

  His tongue sat limp in his mouth. His mind was empty.

  “Did I do something wrong?” she asked, her perfect red lips pouting slightly as she glanced at his security badge.

  “Wrong?” he asked. Her voice had a definite Scarlett Johansson quality to it—a little bit of danger and a whole lot of confidence.

  “You’re security?” She pointed to his chest, where his credentials hung from a lanyard.

  Yes. Wait. He needed to say words out loud. “Yes. I’m security.” Preferably words that weren’t the same as hers. He could talk about his job. “I’ll need to search that bag.”

  She gripped the shoulder strap and turned slightly so the purse was out of his reach. “Why? Do I look sketchy or something?” Her eyebrow lifted slightly.

  He laughed easily before catching himself and schooling his expression. Security guards weren’t supposed to flirt with the contestants. “It’s routine, ma’am.”

  She wrinkled her nose as if the word ma’am was distasteful. Some ladies didn’t like to be called ma’am—it made them feel old. He should have called her miss. His eyes darted to her hand, still clutching the bag as if it held jewels and gold. She didn’t have a wedding ring. Miss it would be from here on out.

  “But you didn’t check their bags.” She motioned to the fifteen other people milling about, filling out their paperwork or chatting on their phones while they waited for their names to be called to go backstage.

  “Well, they weren’t sketch.” He shrugged.

  She grinned, and he had the impression she was happy with herself. “No one’s ever called me that before.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder.

  He liked feistiness on her. Liked it so much more than he should. One side of his mouth lifted in a goofy smile. “What do they call you?”

  She considered him, and he had the distinct desire to puff out his chest. “Robyn.”

  The name fit. She had the grace of a bird, along with delicate fingers and large eyes that seemed to take him in and take his measure.

  “I’m Gabriel. Gabe, I mean. Gabe.” Why had he given her his full name? No one used it. He must sound like an idiot.

  Her companion took that moment to reappear, grabbing on to Robyn with a purpose. “They want us to wait in the flower room for pictures and then come back tomorrow for filming.” She followed Robyn’s gaze to Gabe and looked him over. “Hello there, sailor.” She winked.

  Where he’d found Robyn enchanting, this woman was brassy and bold, and frankly, she scared him a little. “I’m no sailor,” he said to shut down her flirting. He spun on his heel and headed back to his position by the drinking fountain. The warm and rich scent of vanilla followed him, leaving the feeling that he’d been enchanted with Miss Robyn.

  He covertly watched the women walk through the soundproof doors. Robyn set something inside of him off-center, which was strange, because no woman had ever had that effect on him before. His practical side kicked in and reasoned that it was bound to happen at least once in his life. He was a man, after all. And men were attracted to beautiful women. He’d been enticed by others, but never so befuddled as to hand over his full name or forget to search her bag.

  He hoped he hadn’t made her nervous.

  Just before the doors closed, Robyn glanced over her shoulder. Her brows pulled together, as if she were trying to figure him out. His breath caught. He lifted his hand to wave, but the doors closed quickly and he dropped it again.

  The room felt ordinary without Robyn in it. In the absence of Robyn’s effervescence, a fresh sense of mortification washed over him. He’d flirted while on the clock. Flirted like a teenager without a care. Not that he’d know what that looked like. When he was seventeen, he’d gone to high school and bagged groceries. No girl wanted to date the kid who had just moved in and was just as likely to move out the next week.

  Robyn would be no different. She’d see right through his pressed uniform to the orphan inside and walk away. He glanced at the doors where she’d disappeared. It was best if he didn’t think of her again.

  * * *

  Robyn plucked at the tassels on her purse wondering what had happened in the lobby with that cute guard. Gabe.

  Usually, when Stella turned on the charm, no man could resist. Charming was part of the Christmas Magic she inherited from their father, Santa Claus. It came in handy with nervous children and for Stella, with nervous men. Or confident men.

  Or any man with a pulse.

  Not for the first time in her life, Robyn wished she’d gotten that particular trait. But Christmas Magic hasn’t sprinkled on her in that way. She could manage a kitchen fill of elves and ovens, cook and bake any recipe without fail, prove herself as a world-class chocolatier, detect when someone was lying (though she was unable to lie herself), and sense physical and sometimes emotional needs in people—often before they identified them themselves. But attract men like she was giving away free candy canes? Not unless she actually was giving away free candy canes.

  Gabe hadn’t fallen for Stella’s charm, though.

  That left her puzzled in a pleasant way. She’d sensed a need in him for connection, and Stella had offered one. So why didn’t he take it?

  “That guy was a real Scrooge McSourFace.” Stella flicked her dark red fingernails in Gabe’s general direction. Thankfully, he hadn’t searched her magic bag. Who knew what he would have found in there? The bags worked on wishes. Any Kringle could put her hand in and pull out a wish—jewelry to match her outfit, holiday decorations, a driver’s license from any
part of the world, a chocolate bar—whatever. They’d never tested them with non-Kringles, though, so Robyn didn’t know what Gabe would have seen inside. He could have found an empty bag. Or he could have pulled out a set of golf clubs, which would have been hard to explain.

  Instead of worrying about her purse, Robyn thought of Gabe’s gentle teasing. Not outright flirting, but a cute, stammering approach that seemed humble and earnest. She smiled to herself. “I don’t know. He had some Good-List qualities about him.”

  “If you’re talking about his pecs—I’ll agree.” Stella hooked their elbows together and made a sour face. “Let’s forget about the grumpy security guard and focus on finding you a husband! Please try, for the love of peanut brittle, to stifle your need to take care of everyone.”

  “Only if you’ll stop charming everything with two legs,” Robyn fired back.

  “Ouch. I can’t help that I’m irresistible.” Stella winked at a guy carrying a Christmas tree prop. He tripped over his own feet and slammed the tree into the wall. Several plastic baubles fell and bounced across the hallway.

  Robyn pulled to a stop to help him retrieve the props.

  Stella put her hand to the side of her face and ducked her head. Sometimes, she didn’t know the strength of her own charm.

  “And I can’t help that I’m nice.” Robyn bent to retrieve an ornament that had rolled into her foot. She hung it on a branch while the guy looked for the rest, his ears redder than an elf’s. Ushering Stella away from the poor intern, she asked, “What can you tell me about my future husband prospects?”

  “There are three.” Stella practically glowed at the news. She increased their pace, reading name cards on doors as they went. “The show will pick them for you, based on the questionnaire I filled out online, and you’ll get to choose from the sprinkles on top of the dating cupcake.”

  “And you don’t know who they are?” This was starting to feel a little like a tag-less gift under the tree—frustrating and unsatisfying.

  They came upon a door labeled Flower Room and went inside. There were giant hibiscuses painted on the far wall in pink and purple. The couch was lime green. The floor was white. The stale smell of a forgotten pine air freshener tainted the air.

  “No man can hide from me.” Stella cracked her knuckles. “Give me ten minutes to get into their mainframe, and I’ll find out all you need to know about the contestants.” She pulled a computer from her magic purse and settled onto the couch.

  Robyn could jump into a big-sister lecture on privacy laws and the difference between gathering info and stalking, but then she wouldn’t get the download on her potential true loves. Oh, the moral dilemmas faced when searching for her one and only. She chewed her lip for a moment before plopping next to her sister. “All right, what have you got?”

  Stella glared at the screen. “I think we need to call Ginger in on this one. You’re going to want to review the Naughty List.”

  Robyn’s heart sank as she texted the male contestant names to Ginger. She threw Gabriel’s first name in there too, and his city, her curiosity about the man overriding her good sense. She’d felt something in the lobby … well, she’d felt a lot of things in the lobby. With that many people in one space, it was hard not to be crushed by their needs. So many people in the world had a desire to be loved that wasn’t being met.

  The feelings she sensed in Gabe were different in that they had been aimed at her—specifically. The sensations they created were … inviting. Which was strange, because Kringles were impervious to temperature changes.

  Her phone dinged a reply from Ginger, and she scrolled through the disheartening information. “I can’t date these men. They’re all on the Naughty List.” Except for Gabe, but she kept his info off the screen in case Stella looked over her shoulder.

  Stella frowned. “Love can change people, Robyn. You’ve got to give at least one of them a chance.”

  “That’s true.” Her brother-in-law Quik had been a recluse in Alaska, living off the land and his wits, before he'd met Lux. He was a doting husband—something his Santa stats would never have predicted. “Okay, I’ll give it a try. Who knows? Maybe I’ll meet my husband tomorrow.”

  Stella clapped her hands. “You’re going to make the most beautiful bride.”

  In Robyn’s head, she could see the dress, the twinkling lights on the Christmas trees, and her family gathered around for a small, intimate ceremony. The only blank spot was the groom.

  Stella’s phone rang with an alarm. “Shoot. Moisture is messing with the printer in the board game room.” She cast a worried look to the ceiling before typing a hasty reply. “The sooner we get you married, the better.”

  Robyn couldn’t agree more.

  Chapter 3

  Gabe

  Gabe plowed through the snow on his driveway and glared at the dark windows of his condo. Nick should have shoveled the driveway when he’d gotten home from school. Now they’d need ice melt to get it clear. Another expense.

  The difference between his place and his festive neighbors’ only made his scowl deepen. They hadn’t put up Christmas lights, or a tree, or any decorations, really. What was the point when it all had to come down in less than a month? Unless you were old lady Miller at the end of the block. She left her lights on until Valentine’s Day.

  He cut the engine and stepped out of the truck, stuffing his hands into his pockets to keep warm. Nick was probably in his room, watching a video or something— not doing his homework. His grades had slipped into solid C and D territory over the last semester. Getting the kid to care about life was half the battle. Gabe had promised to take him ice skating tonight if he’d caught up in English.

  He barreled through the door, ready to go to battle. Nick had no idea how good he had it. While Gabe had bounced from home to home during his teenaged years, Nick had stayed in the same house and school. Was it fancy? No. Sometimes they were lucky to scrape enough together for pizza delivery. But they had a home. Gabe would have given anything for that kind of stability in his life.

  “Nick?” he yelled up the narrow staircase next to the patch of linoleum where they removed their shoes. No answer came. He growled and plodded up the stairs. “Stupid headphones.” Tapping on Nick’s door, he pushed it open to find the room just as dark as the hallway and empty.

  Gabe cursed. “Not again.” He jogged through the house, checking the bathroom and even his small closet, his heart beating rapidly. No sign of Nick. With a quick intake of breath, he pulled out his phone and activated the tracker app. He hated to use it on his brother, but it was the only way he could keep track of him when Nick decided to bolt. It wasn’t like he’d left a note behind, telling him where he was going and what he was doing and why he didn’t want to live here.

  His chest ached at the thought. He was failing as an older brother/father figure, but he was doing the best he knew how. It wasn’t like he’d had a strong example to follow. Most of the men he’d lived with had a stay-out-of-my-way attitude. As much as Gabe wanted to be closer to Nick, he didn’t know how to make that happen.

  A small blue dot blinked—at the bus station. Gabe rushed down the steps and was back in his small truck before the cold could grab his breath away. He drove to the seedy side of town, cringing as he thought of his brother walking through these streets. They weren’t safe in the daylight, let alone the darkness that descended early in the winter.

  As he got closer, he could make out Nick’s six-foot skinny frame inside the front window. He was standing by a fake Christmas tree void of presents. The branches drooped like Nick’s shoulders, as if the plastic needles understood the griminess around them. A homeless woman took up the only bench inside, her shopping cart parked next to her, her arm thrown over the top of it protectively as she eyed Nick.

  His brother might be a runaway, but he wasn’t a thief. Gabe decided not to get out of the car and cause a scene in his uniform. He let out the breath he’d been holding as he pulled in front of the window and honke
d.

  Nick’s gaze tore away from the tree. He had that defeated stare, the one that made teachers throw their hands up in the air.

  Gabe motioned for him to come out.

  He walked slowly, his shoulders hunched as if carrying the weight of the world. For some reason, his posture grated on Gabe. A little gratitude would be nice. Life wasn’t all roses and fancy hotels for Gabe either.

  He rolled down the passenger’s side window. “Where ya going?” he bit out, wanting to yell so much more but holding back.

  “Nowhere. I don’t have any money.” Nick rubbed his red nose. He must have just gotten there when Gabe located him on the app. He hadn’t had time to thaw out inside the building.

  “So why are you making me chase you clear across town?” Gabe glared out the windshield. Maybe this was a weird trust thing for his brother. He just needed to know someone would chase after him. Or perhaps he was running after a better life—he wasn’t going to find it on the streets.

  No answer came. Nick wasn’t exactly a deep kid, and Gabe was too emotionally wrung out from years of watching his own back to start a heart-to-heart.

  “Get in,” he said, softer this time.

  Nick opened the door, and Gabe rolled up the window. With a sigh, he pulled out of the parking lot. All he wanted was something to eat and a few minutes of quiet where he could mull over his interaction with Robyn that afternoon. She was a bright light in an otherwise dim world. Tomorrow would be the last time she’d come through the building. If he worked it right, he’d be in studio with her.

  “The skating rink is the other way.” Nick pointed east.

  Startled by the sound of his voice, Gabe jerked his head. “We’re not going.” He drove faster, knowing there was an argument coming and wishing he could, for once, have the night off. This kid had a chip on his shoulder the size of a grocery store.