A Very Daddy Christmas (Lucky Lady Reverse Harems)

Chapter 11

11

Cora

“ C arl, you did an amazing job here,” I gasp at the fully restocked pantry. “Holy smokes, you even rearranged the spice racks!”

It’s like walking into my own bakery-themed paradise. I thought I was good at organizing stuff around here, but Carl is on the next level. I do not regret agreeing with Eva to let him work for us until he finds a new job.

“It’s what you pay me for,” my brother-in-law replies with a crooked smile.

He’s been with us for a few days now, and I have to admit, I appreciate his dedication and attention to detail.

“I’m beyond grateful,” I tell Carl, admiring the pantry shelves. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time, but orders keep coming in for Christmas, and the new hire has been making newbie mistakes that both Eva and I have to fix. No judgment against the poor girl, she’s a hard worker—”

“And she’s willing to learn, which is good,” he cuts me off. I don’t mind, he’s absolutely right. She’s wants to learn all she can.

The branded Levine Bakery t-shirt suits him. I could see Carl as a more permanent fixture here, if we could afford it. “I wish we could pay you more for all the work you’ve done so far.”

“Cora, relax. I’m not doing it for the money. We’ve got some cash set aside, we’ll be okay, at least for the next few weeks. I’m good. Plus, it gives me something to do when I’m not looking for a job,” Carl says with a heavy sigh, then lowers his gaze. “I would’ve gone stir crazy at home.”

“Yeah, it’s gotta be pretty quiet with the girls at school all day.”

“Yeah, too quiet,” he mumbles.

“I’m glad you’re here. You’re making our lives easier during the holiday rush.” I smile at him. “So how is the job hunt going?”

“There are a couple of indoor projects due to start soon on the south side. I applied to both, but I haven’t heard back from them,” Carl says. “I talked to a buddy of mine, a contractor. It sounds like Hamilton made sure I got blacklisted across the industry, at least in this part of the state.”

“What the fuck? That’s diabolical.”

“Yeah, well, powerful people with money can do that.”

“I’m so sorry. I can’t help but feel responsible.”

Carl offers a bitter smile, leaning against the wooden frame of a corner rack. “Honestly, at first, I was kind of mad at you and Eva. That lasted for about a day. Then I realized it wasn’t fair of me to feel that way. You abided by your contract terms, fair and square. I know how much Eva loves this place, how much work and energy you put into it as well. It would’ve been selfish of me not to take any of that into consideration.”

“Still, I’m sorry it was our mess that put you in this position.”

“It’s okay, kiddo,” he says. He’s the only one besides Eva who gets to call me that, considering Carl has been around since I was, in fact, a kid. “We’ll figure something out. The storm won’t last forever. The sun always comes back out.”

“It’s going to be a long winter, though.”

“I’ll keep looking. If I have to go out-of-state for a while, I’ll do that. It’ll be tough, but it will get us through the hard times.”

I nod slowly. “You know I’m going to help Eva with the girls if she needs me while you’re away. I’m just hoping it won’t get to that.”

Carl’s situation has caused me to feel pretty down lately. I thought about talking to Sebastian, Riggs, and Waylan about him. Their company is huge, but they deal with marketing and advertising, nothing construction related. They’re well connected, though. They could make a few calls and find a spot for Carl somewhere. I know I should at least ask, but my ego keeps getting in the way. I’d be asking for a huge favor after pitching a fit about them giving me gifts.

“Has St. James left you alone at least?” Carl asks me.

“I’m not sure,” I say, and it’s an honest answer.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, most days it’s nice and quiet. But occasionally we get weird folks coming by, looking around like they want to sack the place. I’ve seen suspicious cars idling outside or driving past the bakery after hours a little too slow for my comfort. Maybe I’m just being paranoid after what happened.”

Carl frowns slightly. “Have the police given any indication that they’re still looking for the two men responsible? Eva told me you guys haven’t heard much from them.”

“No,” I shake my head slowly. “I’m starting to think Sebastian was right, that they’re never going to catch them.”

“Sheriff Foreman is being too cautious, in my opinion. The bakery is a staple in Madison. It deserves respect and protection,” he replies, then curses under his breath. “That’s what we get for electing cowards into office.”

“Maybe it’s more complicated than that, I don’t know.”

“They have evidence on CCTV,” Carl replies. “It isn’t that complicated. A lot of us know St. James and Hamilton are friends with some pretty shady people.”

“There’s no evidence linking them, though. And any affirmation on the matter could be easily declared as slanderous. St. James has a spotless reputation among the church community as well as politicians,” I tell him. “Saying something against the man without irrefutable proof would be akin to political suicide for Sheriff Foreman.”

Sebastian put things into perspective where Foreman is concerned. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. We can’t count on the sheriff to do much. All we can do is wait for the escrow period to pass. Once we’re sealed in, it’ll be a done deal.

If we’re sealed in. Not a day goes by that I don’t dread the possibility that someone might come along and add money on top of our offer. The chances are slim but not impossible.

The more I think about Carl’s situation, the more bothered I am with everything else. My brother-in-law has assured me, more than once, that he doesn’t consider me or the bakery responsible in any way. But I see him and Eva struggling.

I know their marriage is taking a hit. Stress can become too difficult to bear when the money starts running low. I can see it’s nearing that uncomfortable point.

Carl takes care of the girls when he’s not at the bakery fixing stuff for us. My sister is tired, I can see it in her eyes. There are deep shadows under them, and her lips are almost always pressed tightly together. She tries so hard to smile when I talk to her, but I can tell this situation is taking its toll. A big part of me feels guilty because I know deep down this is all because Sebastian, Riggs, and Waylan took such an instant liking to me that they decided to help save our bakery.

“How are you holding up?” I ask Eva one late afternoon. Few customers are left at this hour, so she’s getting ready to call it a day. I just finished a couple of orders, and it’s clear enough for me to head home soon and take over for Sherry with Dario. “Is there anything I can help you with, sis?”

“Yeah, maybe have a look at the reviews on our social media page. Our ratings have gone down,” she says, her tone flat as she cleans the worktable behind the front counter. “I haven’t had a chance to check the recently posted ones, but I know we dropped a couple of points.”

“Wait, what?” I croak and instantly go on my phone to see for myself.

As I scroll through the newly posted reviews, my blood runs cold. Such nasty words. Such hatred and vitriol.

Eva notices the color draining from my face. “That bad, huh?”

“I can’t believe it. And they’re all lies, Eva. Lies!”

“I’m not surprised. They’re really pulling out all the stops to ruin us,” she says with a deep sigh.

“I can’t believe he’d stoop so low.”

“Yeah, and it’s nowhere near over. He’s gunning for us from every possible angle.” She points at me. “Those are his cronies bashing us, I’ll bet you.”

“They’re local,” I say, checking some of the profiles. I recognize a lot of them.

“They’re trying to crush us. I haven’t gone to church for the past couple of weeks, to be honest. I caught a bad vibe the last time I was there.”

“Eva, that’s not right. You love the Sunday sermon,” I say, my heart genuinely breaking.

Church used to be a safe haven for my sister, particularly during the more trying times. Our parents would take us every Sunday, and for several years, Eva kept that tradition going to keep us both connected to Mom and Dad. I know how much it means to her.

“It’s alright,” she says with a faint smile. “I carry the Lord in my heart always. Besides, I couldn’t stand being in the same room with Orson after what he did. And now that I see how his flying monkeys are behaving, I can’t say that I have any regrets.”

“Still. Maybe this isn’t worth it.”

Eva pauses and gives me a long look. “We’re keeping our bakery. It’s all that matters. When it’s all done and dusted, every single one of those hypocrites will come back like nothing happened. And they’ll keep eating our croissants, donuts, and pies. And Orson will find somebody else to terrorize. But we’ll be safe.”

I don’t know why her words do little to comfort me. “Our whole lives, we’ve known these people. How can they turn around and spew such garbage?” I say, focusing on another review. “This is pure evil.”

“Orson clearly has a hold on folks in this town. Those with eyes to see, they know what’s happening. They know to keep coming here, despite everything. The others are mindless fools. The world is full of them, Cora. We can’t control what they do or say. We can only—”

“Control our reaction to what they do or say.” I exhale sharply. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one too many times as of late.”

Eva goes back to boxing the leftovers while I get ready to leave. Outside, I see Sebastian’s black SUV pulling up.

“You go on, kiddo,” my sister says. “We’re going to survive this. Just keep checking those reviews and see if you can cook up a nice, polite response to any of them to show people we’re engaged in the conversation.”

It’s the glare she gives me that says more than her words. She doesn’t want me to pick online fights with the hecklers. Frankly, I’m tempted to do just that, but it would be social media suicide. Eva’s got a point—we can’t feed the trolls. We can only respond with grace and keep to who we are.

The drive home is relatively quiet. Sebastian looks tired. I know they’ve been working hard each day. The Urban Parkour campaign is halfway done, and they have several market surveys out. Once they get the results, they’ll be able to advance with the rest of the promotional materials. Meanwhile, I sink into the passenger seat, letting my own mind become my worst enemy.

“What’s wrong?” Sebastian asks, almost instantly picking up on my mood.

I stare at his gorgeous profile for a bit, admiring the elegant line of his nose and the small dip above his upper lip. The specks of silver in his short, black beard, and the way his irises dilate when he glances my way, all of it makes my heart flutter.

“I think everything is wrong.”

He laughs lightly. “Wow, that’s a bit fatalistic, isn’t it?”

“Carl is still out of a job. We’re getting crappy reviews daily for the bakery on social media. Eva is being shunned at church, enough to put her off from going to Sunday service altogether. Meanwhile, we’re waiting for the escrow to expire, hearts in our throats and worried about other big-necked bullies coming in to scare us every damn day.”

“I know it can’t be easy,” Sebastian says. “But there’s only so much these people can do to you. This isn’t some third-world country where the guerilla forces run wild. I’ve seen that. It could be a lot worse.”

“Yeah, that’s not exactly the comfort you think it is,” I mutter. “Where are we going?” I ask, realizing we didn’t take our usual left turn after the farmer’s market.

Sebastian smiles. “It’s a surprise.”

“What about Dario?” I rest my head against the headrest, staring at the traffic ahead—a sea of taillights twinkling against the dark gray of a rainy evening downtown.

“Like I said, I know it’s not easy dealing with the fallout of an otherwise smart decision,” Sebastian reiterates. “But you’ll be better off when it’s all over.”

“I guess I just didn’t expect to see people who claimed they supported us turning against us the way they have. You haven’t read the reviews. They’re horrific.”

“People can’t really be trusted, Cora. You can only trust yourself. Time has a way of showing the truth, sooner or later. As long as you stay loyal to yourself and the work you do, as long as you stay genuine, the right people will see you for who you are.”

“I guess social media has a way of warping one’s vision.”

“And then some,” he says, resting one hand on my knee. His touch alone is enough to make my skin tighten all over. The effect this man has on me is immediate. “It’s more or less what the guys and I do for a living these days. We build images of businesses and convince online visitors that theirs is the best product. Theirs is the best experience. But it’s a jungle out there. Reputations are built over years, yet they can be torn down within weeks or even days.”

“All you can do is pick yourself up, right?”

He nods once and squeezes my knee. “You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. I reckon the new year will treat you infinitely better than the one that’s about to come to an end.”

I hope he’s right.

“Here we are,” Sebastian says as we pull up outside a swanky hotel in the city center.

“Wait, I know this place.”

We get out of the car, and Sebastian passes the key over to a spry valet in a red and gold vest. “The Lancaster,” he says as the valet climbs into the SUV. “They’ve got the best Italian restaurant on this side of the state.”

“Sebastian…”

“And you deserve a treat for all the hard work you’ve been doing.”

I stop before the massive front doors, gold-brushed frames and the hotel logo elegantly scrawled across in gilded letters. A concierge comes out to greet us in his sleek, red-and-gold tuxedo uniform.

“Welcome to The Lancaster. May I be of assistance?”

“We have a reservation for six o’clock tonight at The Osteria,” Sebastian tells him.

The concierge nods politely but doesn’t hesitate to measure me up and down with a slightly critical eye. Of course. Sebastian is donning his usual custom-tailored dark green suit with a crisp white shirt and fine leather shoes, while I’m in a plush brown jacket, camel-beige boots, and have a streak of flour on the left thigh of my jeans. Classy.

Suddenly, I’m reminded of who I am. I don’t really belong here, do I?

“If you’ll follow me, sir,” the concierge calmly replies, giving me one last judgmental look before leading us inside.

Sebastian rests his hand on the small of my back, guiding me. I think he can tell I feel out of place, but he doesn’t say a word.

Riggs and Waylan are seated at the farthest table by the eastern window, both lighting up like two gorgeous suns as they stand to greet us. They’re both dressed impeccably, as usual. Damn, none of this is helping me feel any better. If anything, their attire just exacerbates my preexisting anxieties regarding this relationship.

“You look gorgeous, as always,” Riggs proudly declares, clearly reading my discomfort.

The concierge is gone, and I barely noticed the nicely dressed hostess who took his place. I didn’t hear her, either. I was too busy taking all of this in and feeling smaller with each passing second.

“Cora?” Riggs asks.

“Are you okay?” Sebastian chimes in, both of them giving me worried looks as we take our seats.

I can’t even speak. I can only look around, bitterness testing my nerves and dousing everything in a terrible taste.

Waylan gives me a soft, understanding smile. “It was supposed to be a nice surprise.”

“It is,” I mumble. “I’m just not adequately dressed for this. I look like I literally fell out of the oven.”

“You’re beautiful and perfect,” Sebastian insists.

“Gorgeous,” Riggs says it again.

I try hard to smile, but even that feels like it’s coming out wrong.

“Cora,” Waylan says in a low voice. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter how you’re dressed. Besides, you look fantastic in anything.”

“You’re just saying that to comfort me,” I reply. “You didn’t really think this through, did you?”

“What do you mean?” Sebastian asks with a slight frown.

I shrug slightly. “This restaurant date. You didn’t consider what I’d be wearing when you picked me up earlier.”

“No, I did not. And I didn’t care, either,” he replies with a sheepish smile.

“But I do. It’s such a nice place and I feel like Raggedy Ann here.”

“Cora, that shouldn’t matter,” Riggs tries to intervene, but I shake my head. “We’re here, that’s what matters. We know you love carbonara, and this place makes the best carbonara in the whole of Colorado. We wanted to treat you to something we know brings you joy.”

It’s so infuriatingly sweet and also a tad out of touch with my current reality. I guess that’s the downside of having so much money. You don’t consider how it affects those who struggle.

“My brother-in-law is out of a job because of Orson St. James and George Hamilton,” I say. “We’re clattering our teeth waiting for an escrow with my sister’s life savings and a whole lot of your money to go through. The bakery is taking constant hits online and throughout the town from Orson and his cronies while you keep lavishing me with expensive gifts and experiences, despite the many times I’ve already told you it’s just too much. I’m overwhelmed. I’m honestly overwhelmed, and it pisses me off because I can’t even enjoy this.”

I need a deep breath after blurting everything out, perhaps a little too loudly, since there are people from neighboring tables now staring at us. I know I shouldn’t care but I do.

Lowering my voice, I deliver the last and most pressing aspect of my pain. “And the worst part is that I have to live our relationship in secret. I can’t shout it from the rooftops, I can’t manifest anything I feel for you because we’d probably be run out of town.”

Silence falls between us. It’s heavy. So heavy it weighs my shoulders down in muted defeat, along with my gaze. Tears prick my eyes, and there’s not enough wine at this table to drown my sorrow.

Sebastian reaches under the table and gives my thigh a good squeeze. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You’re right, we didn’t think this through. I was just so excited to bring you here, I didn’t consider anything you just said.”

“God, it’s not your fault,” I groan, immediately regretting my little meltdown. “It’s just that there’s so much going on all at once and it hasn’t slowed down since that day at the fair.”

“We’re here for you. You know that, right?” Riggs replies, his gaze softening as it lingers on my face. I give him a warm smile, trying to make amends.

These mood swings are killing me. Up and down I go, every damn day. It’s only at night, when it’s just the four of us behind closed doors that I’m able to really be myself. My truest self, naked and unabashed.

“I know,” I whisper. “You’re too kind, too good, and here I am fussing and acting ungrateful. Any girl would kill to have what you’ve given me.”

“You’re not any girl,” Waylan chuckles softly. “You’re complex and dealing with a bunch of crap you shouldn’t have to be dealing with.”

Sebastian nods in agreement. “And we can’t exactly step in and fix everything, either, because that would take your power away from you. We’re tempted to, though. Mind you, we are so fucking tempted.”

“If I need you, I will tell you. I’ll ask for your help,” I say, covering his hands with mine, both now lingering on my thigh. “You’ve already carried me through the worst of it, and you didn’t have to. Which is why every single gesture you make now feels like too much.”

“I get it,” Waylan says. “You’re way too independent and self-sufficient. You didn’t have a choice in this. Life made you that way, and it’ll take time for you to get used to the attention. To receive everything we’re obviously eager to give you.”

“Look at that. We haven’t even gotten our starters and we’re already doing couples’ therapy.” I laugh nervously as the waiter returns with the menus.

The waiter pours each of us a glass of wine after we place our orders. The conversation turns to lighter talk, but as the evening continues, I know in my heart I need to make a break. This is simply too much and too complicated for things to work at this point in my life.

But I can’t say that now. Instead, I try to enjoy my food and the company while my heart slowly breaks from the inside out.