“Something about a competition, shovels and buckets.” He shook his head. “I’m stumped.”
“Oh, it’s the gingerbread-sandcastle contest. Now that explains why Charlie’s computer time has been spent looking up images of gingerbread houses.” She let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I was afraid she wanted to make a real one.”
“Not good with gingerbread?”
“I’m great with it. Up here.” She tapped the side of her head. “Funny how it never turns out the way you imagine it will. Can definitely be an ego-crusher.”
“The trick is doing all the decorations and frosting before you put it together.” Xander grinned at Paige’s wide-eyed stare. “Family tradition. We have a gingerbread-house contest every Christmas.” Usually after a morning of sledding and cider or hot chocolate. An odd longing pulled at his core. His mother made the best hot chocolate.
“Careful or you’ll get sucked in,” Paige warned. “Right, Calliope?” She caught her friend’s arm as the lithe redhead attempted to glide unseen behind her.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“The sandcastle competition. That’s what they’re up to.” Paige jerked her chin toward the kids. “We can rest easy. The world is safe for a while longer at least.”
Xander was tempted to ask for clarification, but all thoughts of conversation shot straight out of his head as Calliope turned toward him. For an instant, it was as if he was trapped in a movie or hokey TV show, where one of the characters begins to move in slow motion. All that was missing was a fan and an 80s rock ballad blasting out of car speakers.
What was it about Calliope Jones that warmed him from the inside? To say she was unexpected sounded like a cliché, but for a man who had dated models, publishing CEOs and, for one particularly entertaining summer, a disavowed princess, Xander couldn’t compare her to any woman he’d ever known. He’d never met anyone who seemed to be comprised completely of energy and light.
She was pretty beneath the mass of long red curls accented with ribbons and bells. Her face was clean of makeup, and her fresh, bright skin glowed. The simple, colorful, ankle-sweeping dress she wore drifted over a subtle figure. Other than a solitary silver butterfly charm situated in the hollow of her throat, she didn’t wear any jewelry, and when he glanced at her hands he saw the telltale hint of darkness under her short, practical nails. A woman who wasn’t afraid of getting her hands dirty.
“I didn’t realize Stella was interested in competing.” Calliope frowned over at her sister before giving her head a quick shake. “I’ll have to talk to her about it.”
“You sound like you disapprove.” He started to laugh until he saw her strained smile.
“Of competition, yes, usually.” She shifted and directed her attention—and her laser-sharp gaze—on him.
“Really? Why?”
“I’ve found pitting people against one another doesn’t necessarily bring out the best in individuals.”
“It’s character-building,” Xander argued and tried to keep his smile in check. He didn’t think she’d appreciate knowing her irritation toward him made her even more appealing.
“Competing against oneself is character-building. Participating in activities that could increase animosity feeds into negativity I’d rather avoid.”
“Gotta disagree with you.” If only because he found arguing with her invigorating. “Win or lose, you learn something. About other people, about yourself. I competed with my older brother constantly when we were growing up. I like to think we turned out okay.”
“Are you friends?”
“Friends?”
“You and your brother. Are you friends?”
“Ah.” Xander had to think about that as an image of his fair-haired brother popped into his head. “Well, yeah, I guess so. We’re brothers. Isn’t that a given?”
“Not always. No.” Calliope’s tone hadn’t changed, but something had. In her stance, in her expression.
“Ah, looks like table three is ready to order.” Paige backed away and held her hands up in surrender as she cast an uneasy look at her friend. “I’ll be back for your order in a bit.”