Homemade from the Heart Read online

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Two days after Thanksgiving

  Four weeks before Christmas

  Three weeks before Christmas

  Two weeks until Christmas

  Grant had just finished...

  One week until Christmas

  Two days until Christmas

  One day until Christmas

  About the Author

  By Bru Baker

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  Homemade from the Heart

  By Bru Baker

  Craft store owner Grant has always been a sucker for a pretty face, and that goes double for a pretty face with an adorable sidekick. When seven-year-old Aubrey has her heart set on taking Grant’s already-full holiday craft series, he caves and gives up his one day off a week so she (and her hot guardian, Josh) can take private lessons. Their flirting ramps up week after week, and even though Josh isn’t with Aubrey’s mother, Grant can’t be sure the man isn’t straight. Maybe he’s just being friendly. And Josh, who most definitely is not straight, is afraid of being the creepy guy hitting on the teacher.

  Frustrated by their stubbornness and cluelessness, Aubrey takes matters into her own hands. She decides the best gift to give Josh is something homemade and from the heart—a boyfriend they’ll both love.

  For R, who has been tripping over my half-finished craft projects and supplies for more than twenty years.

  Two days after Thanksgiving

  “MAKE AND Take, this is Grant. What can we help you craft today?” Grant held the phone sandwiched between his ear and shoulder, freeing up his hands to gingerly grab the still-wet canvas that had just been thrust at him.

  He angled his mouth away from the receiver and smiled at the artist. “Great job, buddy! I’ll keep it back here until it dries, okay?”

  Grant received a beaming smile for his compliment, and he offered an exuberant thumbs-up after he’d put the painting on a ledge behind the counter to dry.

  The woman on the other end of the phone was still whining when he tuned back in to the call. It didn’t sound like he’d missed much.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, trying his hardest to sound like he gave a damn, “but what you saw on the website was correct. Our holiday gift craft series is full.”

  The woman squawked. Honest-to-God squawked. Grant rubbed a hand over his temple, grimacing when he felt wet paint smear across his forehead as the caller protested.

  “No, I understand. I do. But the classes filled up as soon as they were posted.”

  Literally. He’d never had online enrollment go as fast as the one for the three-week Homemade from the Heart holiday craft series. It had been featured on a local parenting blog that apparently had a ridiculous number of followers, given how many calls they’d been fielding about the classes. They’d been sold out for weeks, but the calls kept coming.

  Another painting sailed into his line of vision, and Grant snatched it by instinct before it could fall facedown on the counter. He righted it and grinned when he saw the turkey in the painting had battle armor instead of feathers.

  “Nice social commentary on the holiday, Ash. I like it!” He accepted a slightly sticky high five from the artist before putting it next to the other painting on the ledge.

  The caller was still ranting. Grant bit back a sigh as he listened to the woman go on and on.

  “Ma’am,” he finally broke in. “I apologize. I’m truly sorry. We just don’t have any space left.” Grant braced himself for another diatribe, but a loud crash from the other end of the studio caught his attention.

  Grant looked up, ready to dash to the back, but he was relieved to see that the instructor for the next class had already arrived and hurried over to help right a fallen easel and the pots of paint that had taken a tumble with it.

  The irate woman on the phone offered a very colorful metaphor about Grant’s intelligence, which at this moment he could only agree with. What had he been thinking, starting a co-op art studio for kids? And then letting Krista talk him into doing the interview with the parenting blog—sheer idiocy.

  The sleigh bells Krista had hung over the door—another poor decision he’d let himself be harangued into—rang out, signaling another influx of children and parents.

  Grant looked up out of habit and then nearly dropped the phone he was clutching. A child he didn’t recognize had just flounced in, pigtails bouncing, holding the hand of what was flat-out the most gorgeous guy Grant had ever seen. The girl darted off deeper into the studio, but the man crossed the short distance between the door and the front desk in three easy strides, moving with an animal grace that made Grant’s mouth water. He could watch that body in tight denim all day.

  Except he couldn’t. Reality sank back in when the woman on the other end of the forgotten phone raised her voice in annoyance. He had no idea what she’d said or how many times she’d said it while he watched the Greek god walk up to the desk. Grant’s cheeks flushed in both embarrassment and lust.

  “Again, I’m so sorry,” he said, forcing himself to turn his attention back to the customer on the phone. “You’re right. We didn’t anticipate how popular the series would be. I had no idea it would sell out so quickly.”

  Grant made what he hoped was an apologetic gesture to the man waiting at the counter, but the guy waved off his concern and started browsing the pictures hung on the wall behind the register. His eyes softened when he saw the paintings Grant had put up last night—the final project in his still-life class for five-year-olds. It made Grant’s knees weak.

  “It’s too late to hire extra staff to accommodate more holiday craft classes,” he said to the woman on the phone, cutting off her tirade about his lack of vision. “But we’ll keep that in mind for next year. Thanks for calling Make and Take,” Grant said, hanging up on the woman before she could respond. He’d probably lost her as a customer for good, but that was fine. Parents who whined over full classes were also the type of parents who tried to enroll their four-year-olds in his intro to welding classes. Not worth the hassle.

  Grant swallowed again, trying to wet his throat before addressing the beautiful stranger who was standing at the counter with a bemused grin. He was definitely a stranger—Grant would have remembered if he’d seen the guy before, and his daughter hadn’t looked familiar either. She and the man shared shiny dark hair and breathtaking hazel eyes. There was no question of their being related. This was a case of Hot Dad, not Hot Manny.

  “Ah, hi.” Hot Dad rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, and the sheepish charm of it had Grant’s heart knocking hard. Surely this guy knew exactly how devastating that looked. “So we saw an ad for classes where the kids make holiday gifts, but I’m guessing I should have called ahead?”

  The warm feeling that had swept through Grant as the man walked up retreated. This goddamn class was turning out to be the bane of his existence. Why couldn’t Hot Dad have been bringing his kid for the painting class that was about to start up?

  “Those classes filled up the day after Halloween,” Grant said with a grimace. “I’m so sorr—”

  The man waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. It’s our fault for not calling first. Aubrey saw a flyer for it somewhere and decided that’s what she was going to do for the family’s presents this year. We’ll just have to make other plans.”

  Of course Hot Dad would be not only hot but accommodating. This time of year, that was a bigger turn-on than his attractiveness. Working retail at Christmas was brutal, but working with frazzled kids and parents at Christmas? A hundred times worse.

  “We have an opening in the acrylics class that’s starting in twenty minutes,” Grant offered,
desperate to keep Hot Dad and his daughter in the studio. “It’s not a series, but if Aubrey is interested in making art as presents, you two could sign up for a few of our drop-ins.”

  Grant reached across the counter and grabbed one of the monthly schedules. “Some of the drop-ins are holiday themed.” He’d put the schedule together himself, but he was so flustered he couldn’t remember any of the classes off the top of his head. Luckily Hot Dad took the schedule and started scanning it, saving Grant from the embarrassment of continuing to babble.

  “Do you want to build a snowman?” the guy read aloud, snorting. His eyes sparkled when he looked up and met Grant’s gaze. “Good marketing there.”

  Grant grinned, his confidence coming back. “It’s a two-part class. Week one the kids make a clay snowman, and week two they paint it. Make and Take bears no responsibility if the kids decide to violate intellectual property law and make a certain famous Disney snowman—our examples will be regular old Frosties.”

  “It’s a good thing you’ve included a regular old snowman in the description. You’d be surprised how little it takes to actually have a case against you,” he said, still studying it. “Wednesday nights, crap. I only have Aub on the weekends, and I don’t think her mother can bring her.”

  Grant’s ears perked up, and he was surprised his tongue didn’t actually loll out of his mouth. What was this? Hot Dad was Hot Divorced Dad? Hot Divorced Straight Dad, but still. A boy could dream.

  “Our Saturday morning drop-ins don’t require advance registration. They fill up pretty quickly, but if you can get here about half an hour before the class starts, you should be good.”

  Hot Dad shook his head. “She has tae kwon do on Saturday mornings. I swear to God, she’s busier than I am. It’s kind of ridiculous, but what are you gonna do? Her mom wants her in all this stuff.”

  Grant saw stressed-out, overscheduled kids every day of the week, literally. He and Krista tried their best to make classes at the studio as much fun as they could, but sometimes kids just needed downtime. After witnessing a ten-year-old break down in tears at the beginning of a weaving class after being rushed through a door still chewing the protein bar he’d been given for dinner, Grant had instituted a five-minute mindful meditation at the beginning of all of his sessions that ran sixty minutes or longer. Parents had balked because it took away from instructional time, but kids loved it. He had to admit sitting in a peacefully quiet studio just absorbing the atmosphere was one of his favorite things, and he was glad most of the kids agreed.

  It sounded like Aubrey could benefit from some mindful meditation time herself. Not that Grant would be able to focus on getting his Zen on with all that gorgeousness in the room with him.

  “Are you sure she wants to add art classes to that load?” Grant asked, pitching his voice quieter so no one would overhear them.

  Hot Divorced Dad looked a bit startled at the question. “Aubrey seemed superexcited about the holiday series, so I guess she does. We talked about how it would have to replace our Saturday afternoon museum dates, and she was fine with it.”

  Jesus. He took his daughter on museum dates. Could this guy be any more perfect?

  Grant cleared his throat, but before he could respond, Aubrey ran up, brandishing a cross-stitch kit.

  “This! I want to make one of these for Mom for Christmas. With flowers. Can we get it?”

  Hot Divorced Dad sighed indulgently and then crouched so they were eye to eye. Grant melted a little more at the sight.

  “Hmm,” the guy said, looking from Aubrey up at Grant. “This isn’t something I can help you with, pumpkin.”

  Aubrey’s face fell. “But this is like the pillow she had that the puppy ate. Mom was so sad because Mimi made it for her, and she’d had it since she was my age, remember?”

  Hot Divorced Dad looked distraught, but he shook his head. “Aub, we’d be in way over our heads with this. It’s a really awesome thought, but—”

  “We could sign you guys up for a private-lesson slot,” Grant said, his mouth moving faster than his brain. The next cross-stitch class wasn’t scheduled until February, and that wouldn’t help get Aubrey’s project done—or help keep Aubrey and her dad in the studio.

  Aubrey’s grin revealed two missing teeth, but it was nothing compared to her dad’s beaming smile. Grant’s stomach swooped when the thousand-kilowatt grin split Hot Divorced Dad’s face and he turned his attention on Grant. “That would be amazing. When do you offer those?”

  The problem was, they didn’t. Grant got requests for private lessons all the time, but they would be cost prohibitive to offer. Not to mention the fact that there wasn’t any open studio time, even if he did want to take a loss and offer them.

  Unless he opened up on Sunday. Grant weighed the pros and cons quickly. They weren’t regulars, so they wouldn’t know there were no private lessons and the studio was never open on a Sunday. It was the one day a week Grant allowed himself to take off.

  “Sundays,” he blurted. Apparently he was committing to this. Giving up his one day off a week during the busiest season of the year just so he could see Hot Divorced Dad’s pretty face? God, he was an idiot.

  The man in question turned back to Aubrey. “Whaddya say, kiddo? Want to make an exception to Sweatpants Sunday for a cross-stitch lesson?”

  Aubrey nodded, practically vibrating with excitement. “We don’t ever do anything on Sunday,” she told Grant, her tone a conspiratorial whisper. “’Cause we like to watch movies and stuff all day. And we’re not allowed to put on real clothes. Sweatpants only ’cause they’re comfy.”

  “But this is worth putting real pants on for, eh, Aub?”

  No need for that. Hot Divorced Dad in jeans was delicious, but sweatpants… just the thought made Grant’s mouth go dry. He had to force himself not to whimper.

  “Oh, totally,” Aubrey said, and the sheer joy in her voice snapped Grant out of his inappropriate thoughts. He shouldn’t be thinking about her dad wearing sweatpants. That way lay madness.

  Thankfully both she and her dad remained oblivious to Grant’s increasingly lewd inner monologue. She looked from Grant to her dad, puppy-dog eyes in full deployment. “But can I do more than just one? There’s stuff back there for lots of art projects. I want to make everyone presents for Christmas.”

  Grant jumped in to back her up. “We can do things that aren’t on the craft kit wall too. Those are mostly for kids to take home and work on after they’ve had other classes. You wanted to do the Homemade from the Heart craft series, right? We could do those projects, and we’ll add on the cross-stitch too, okay? But we’ll start that one first, since it’s so important to you. I bet your mom will love it. Homemade gifts are always the best because they come from the heart. Just like the class name says.”

  There were three classes in the series, so if they added another, Grant was volunteering to give up four Sundays. What was he thinking?

  Hot Divorced Dad straightened out of his crouch and pulled his phone out of his pocket, drawing Grant’s attention to the way the denim hugged his hips and thighs. Right. He wasn’t thinking. And if Aubrey and her dad agreed to the private lessons, he’d have the opportunity to see this all the way up until Christmas. Totally worth it.

  “What time slots do you have open?” the guy asked, thumbing open his calendar app. Grant blinked. It took a few beats for the question to sink in. Of course the guy couldn’t know that Grant literally had every time slot open on Sundays because the store was actually closed.

  “What works for you? Did you want to do an afternoon lesson so you still get some sweatpants time?”

  Or you could just come on by in them, Grant added mentally. Because if he had to lose out on his only day off, that would be more than just compensation.

  “I drop her off at her mom’s at five, so maybe three? That way I can take her home from here. Her mom’s place isn’t far.”

  Three was smack dab in the middle of his weekly mimosa lunch with Krista and his
roommate, Mel, but it was a sacrifice Grant was willing to make.

  “Perfect. I’ll get you signed up for three. That gives us ninety minutes for a lesson and a little extra time in case Aubrey needs to finish up.” Grant leaned across the counter so he could make eye contact with Aubrey. “Think about your mom’s pillow and how it looked different from this pattern, okay? If we need to change some details we can.”

  Aubrey nodded. “Some of the flowers were purple instead.”

  “And there was a border around it, remember, Aub? Swirly.” He looked up at Grant. “Delicate. I can sketch it tonight and bring it with us tomorrow.” He hesitated. “Assuming you’re okay to start tomorrow. It’s pretty last-minute to change your schedule, so—”

  Christ. The guy could draw? Just when Grant thought the man couldn’t get more attractive. He was a walking wet dream. Even if Grant had more scheduled for tomorrow than brunch, laundry, and catching up on The Walking Dead, the chance to spend an hour and a half at the shop with the two of them would be worth it.

  “It’s fine. And if Aubrey wants all the crafts as gifts, we need to get started as soon as possible anyway. We only have a month until Christmas.”

  Aubrey clapped and jumped up and down. “This is so awesome!”

  She was beaming, and Grant couldn’t help but return her smile. Kids like Aubrey were the reason he’d started Make and Take. Dealing with angry parents like the woman on the phone made it easy to lose sight of that. The ability to inspire a child to create something—that was everything.

  The bells over the door tinkled again, letting in a blast of cold air and the Henderson triplets. Grant grabbed his apron from the peg near the cash register and started around the counter. Class would be starting in five minutes, but those kids could wreak ten kinds of havoc before then if left to their own devices.

  “I need to get things started for our next class. There are registration forms in the blue bin. You can fill it out here or bring it with you tomorrow.”