Read Online The Rock Star's Christmas Reunion: contemporary holiday romance (A Charisma series novel, The Connollys Book 1) by Heather Hiestand - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Heather Hiestand
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one of the best places to go crazy.”
“Uh huh.” She could feel her nipples swelling. Erotic images filled her head. She never should have listened to that Billy Idol autobiography. Now, she had a very clear idea of what went on in recording studios.
“I mean, it used to be. In my old life. When I was, err, dating our backup singer.”
“Lots of places to relax in a recording studio?”
“There’s usually a couch. And great acoustics.”
“So backup singers make some great sex noises?”
He pursed his lips and glanced upward. “I’ve had some memorable moments.”
She saw her neighbor, Mr. Steubens, walk by with his dog and realized that they were standing at her front door talking about sex. And they’d been at it for quite a while. Her fingers were red with cold. “I should shut the front door.”
“Yeah.” He stepped aside as she closed it. With the fedora off, he looked cowboy hot in banged up boots and the insulated red and black flannel coat he wore over the V-neck sweater. “It smells great in here.”
“Thanks. It’s probably the tree.”
He sniffed. “I smell cinnamon.”
“That’s my homemade potpourri.”
He glanced around as if looking for the source. “You should sell it, too. Could you do that?”
She tilted her head, enjoyed the sight of his handsome face at a slightly different angle, overgrown brown hair curling slightly around the corner of his jaw. “Yes, I could.”
“How about gingerbread potpourri? I’d buy that, give it as gifts.”
“Yes.” She smiled. “Yes, I could.”
“What do you need?”
“Pinecones, nuts, spices, essential oils.”
“Cinnamon sticks, right?”
“And oil,” she agreed. “I bet I’ve got a bag of pinecones in a closet somewhere.”
“We can buy the nuts. I’ve seen them in bins at the store.”
“I have the essential oils. I know, I should dry slices of ginger. That would work really well.”
He pulled his phone out of his jacket. “Shopping list?”
“Whole nutmeg, cinnamon sticks, more ginger. Whole other nuts. Cloves, star anise.” She shrugged.
“What are you going to put it in?”
“Bags. Let’s check out the craft warehouse. We could get some plastic and some more cheese cloth, and then we need ribbon to tie them together.”
“I feel like I’m in kindergarten for craft time,” he said, making a fist and swooping it across his body. “Gosh darn it, let’s get cracking!”
She laughed. “You may be a rock star, but you’re also a dork, Bax Connolly.”
His large hands opened and he pulled her toward him. When her torso lined up along his, he growled at her. “And a sex toy.”
“In training,” she amended. “First base training.”
He waggled his brows. “If the potpourri turns out well enough, we’ll both be so turned on that maybe we’ll reach second.”
“You’re not just a dork, you’re a dreamer. I’m not some backup singer.” She wrapped her hand around his arm, then saw the grocery bag. “Hold on, I need to get that tofu in the refrigerator. Then we can go.”
~
Two hours later, Yakima clutched her sides as she stood at the main work table in her commercial kitchen. Bax’s jokes had gotten worse throughout the afternoon. As she sliced off another length of braided red and green ribbon, he asked, “Why is Santa so jolly?”
“Why?”
“He knows where all the naughty girls live.”
She rolled her eyes and tied ribbon around her thirtieth package of potpourri. “I think these will sell, but let’s not make more than fifty, just in case.”
“What are you going to charge?”
“Ten dollars. A nice round number.”
“Is that a good price?”
“I checked on the internet while you were driving us to the store. The prices are all over the place. I think ten dollars is fair for four ounces. Those pinecones were free, so I’ll make at least a couple of dollars on each bag.”
“So this represents about a hundred dollars of profit? For about three hours’
“Uh huh.” She could feel her nipples swelling. Erotic images filled her head. She never should have listened to that Billy Idol autobiography. Now, she had a very clear idea of what went on in recording studios.
“I mean, it used to be. In my old life. When I was, err, dating our backup singer.”
“Lots of places to relax in a recording studio?”
“There’s usually a couch. And great acoustics.”
“So backup singers make some great sex noises?”
He pursed his lips and glanced upward. “I’ve had some memorable moments.”
She saw her neighbor, Mr. Steubens, walk by with his dog and realized that they were standing at her front door talking about sex. And they’d been at it for quite a while. Her fingers were red with cold. “I should shut the front door.”
“Yeah.” He stepped aside as she closed it. With the fedora off, he looked cowboy hot in banged up boots and the insulated red and black flannel coat he wore over the V-neck sweater. “It smells great in here.”
“Thanks. It’s probably the tree.”
He sniffed. “I smell cinnamon.”
“That’s my homemade potpourri.”
He glanced around as if looking for the source. “You should sell it, too. Could you do that?”
She tilted her head, enjoyed the sight of his handsome face at a slightly different angle, overgrown brown hair curling slightly around the corner of his jaw. “Yes, I could.”
“How about gingerbread potpourri? I’d buy that, give it as gifts.”
“Yes.” She smiled. “Yes, I could.”
“What do you need?”
“Pinecones, nuts, spices, essential oils.”
“Cinnamon sticks, right?”
“And oil,” she agreed. “I bet I’ve got a bag of pinecones in a closet somewhere.”
“We can buy the nuts. I’ve seen them in bins at the store.”
“I have the essential oils. I know, I should dry slices of ginger. That would work really well.”
He pulled his phone out of his jacket. “Shopping list?”
“Whole nutmeg, cinnamon sticks, more ginger. Whole other nuts. Cloves, star anise.” She shrugged.
“What are you going to put it in?”
“Bags. Let’s check out the craft warehouse. We could get some plastic and some more cheese cloth, and then we need ribbon to tie them together.”
“I feel like I’m in kindergarten for craft time,” he said, making a fist and swooping it across his body. “Gosh darn it, let’s get cracking!”
She laughed. “You may be a rock star, but you’re also a dork, Bax Connolly.”
His large hands opened and he pulled her toward him. When her torso lined up along his, he growled at her. “And a sex toy.”
“In training,” she amended. “First base training.”
He waggled his brows. “If the potpourri turns out well enough, we’ll both be so turned on that maybe we’ll reach second.”
“You’re not just a dork, you’re a dreamer. I’m not some backup singer.” She wrapped her hand around his arm, then saw the grocery bag. “Hold on, I need to get that tofu in the refrigerator. Then we can go.”
~
Two hours later, Yakima clutched her sides as she stood at the main work table in her commercial kitchen. Bax’s jokes had gotten worse throughout the afternoon. As she sliced off another length of braided red and green ribbon, he asked, “Why is Santa so jolly?”
“Why?”
“He knows where all the naughty girls live.”
She rolled her eyes and tied ribbon around her thirtieth package of potpourri. “I think these will sell, but let’s not make more than fifty, just in case.”
“What are you going to charge?”
“Ten dollars. A nice round number.”
“Is that a good price?”
“I checked on the internet while you were driving us to the store. The prices are all over the place. I think ten dollars is fair for four ounces. Those pinecones were free, so I’ll make at least a couple of dollars on each bag.”
“So this represents about a hundred dollars of profit? For about three hours’
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