Starlight and the Christmas Dare
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Michelle Major
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Chapter One
Chase Kent stood in the mist of the early December night and stared at the window across the street from the alley that kept him hidden from view.
He’d lived in Seattle for half his life and thought he was immune to the damp winter cold, but at the moment, he felt frigid to his bones. It was as much outright terror as anything else.
The door to the youth center opened, and his teenage stepsister walked out with two boys who looked to be her age. Had one of those kids gotten them into this current mess, and what would happen if he went over and confronted the little punk?
They were taller than Stella, who took after her mother, Chase’s late stepmom. Her small, nearly elfin size might make Stella tiny in stature, but she was a powerhouse of attitude.
One of the kids offered her a cigarette as they walked toward the light-rail station. Chase held his breath, wondering if she would accept it, then muttered a prayer of thanks under his breath when she declined.
At least she’d made one wise decision. He’d offered to pick her up from her community service shift, but she’d insisted on taking public transportation as if riding home with him would be a worse punishment than her court-ordered service.
She and two of her so-called friends had gotten caught with beer, setting off fireworks in the high school parking lot, one of which broke a window in the school’s gymnasium. It had been a first-time offense for each of the kids, so they’d gotten off with a fine and volunteer hours.
He almost wished the juvenile court judge had imposed a stricter sentence. Maybe that would help deter Stella from further trouble.
Chase should understand. He’d been a rebellious, headstrong teenager and knew how hard it was to talk sense into someone whose frontal lobe was underdeveloped while their sense of righteous anger was blown way out of proportion.
His fingers itched to work, to make something out of the thick web of emotions inside him. For the past nine months, when everything in his life had been turned upside down, his artistic vision had gotten him through.
From the moment his estranged father and stepmother had been killed in a car crash and Chase had been named Stella’s guardian, the need to create had overwhelmed him.
Emotion poured out into the blown glass sculptures he sold for obscene amounts of money in the trendy galleries that repped his work all along the West Coast. The worse his relationship with Stella became—and it had been pretty sad from the start—the more his creativity soared to new heights.
It was ironic, but he had a long enough relationship with the muse that he didn’t question it.
He figured it was working for both him and his stepsister that he spent more time in the studio he’d built on his five-acre property outside the city than in the house he and Stella now shared.
He should have known better than to give a sad and angry teenage girl that much rope, enough to hang both of them.
When the kids turned the corner, Chase walked across the street, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his wool coat. It hadn’t been raining earlier, and he’d grabbed this jacket off the hook instead of something waterproof.
He knew better and smelled like a wet dog because of it. Entering the youth center, he was immediately assaulted with the scent of apple pie.
Not what he’d expected. Nor was the woman who stood at the far end of the space wiping down the stainless-steel counter of the industrial-looking kitchen.
“I’m not interested in buying whatever you’re selling.” She barely spared him a glance. “If you’re looking for a handout, I’m fresh out of those as well.”
He was nearly rendered speechless by her brash tone and dismissive attitude. Stella had talked about Madison Maurer, the woman who managed the community center on Wednesday nights, when Stella volunteered, like she was some mix between Wonder Woman, Mother Teresa, and Betty White’s ghost.
In Chase’s mind, Madison had been middle-aged, probably plump since she was a chef by trade, and downright maternal. Even if, according to Stella, she cursed like a sailor when she forgot she was working with kids.
The woman ignoring him from the other side of the room was his age, maybe a year or two younger. Early thirties with wild blond hair that fell over her shoulders. She wore a vintage Ramones T-shirt and black jeans with fashionable rips at the knees. She was stunning and a complete shock to his senses.
“I’m here to talk to you if you’re Ms. Maurer?”
Her hands paused in their movement, and she gripped the sponge a little more tightly. But it took another minute for her to meet his gaze.
“Ms. Maurer was my sister before Jenna got married,” she said, glaring at him. “She runs this place during the day, so you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”
“Madison Maurer. That’s you, correct?”
She blinked and studied him more closely. “I’m Madison,” she said slowly. “Do you want a gold star for getting it right?”
Chase barked out a laugh. Not at all what he’d expected. “I’m Stella Kent’s...” He paused, then said, “I’m her guardian.”
“The stepbrother?”
“Yes.”
“You just missed her.”
“I know. I’m here to talk to you. I found condoms in her bathroom, and she told me you gave them to her. She’s fifteen.”
“I’m aware of her age. This isn’t the 1950s, Mr. Kent. We don’t have to talk around protection or teenage sex.”
“Call me Chase.” He nodded and ran a hand through his hair. He liked it better when Madison Maurer ignored him because he was having trouble fighting the urge to fidget under her assessing blue gaze.
There was no doubt she’d judged him and found him lacking, which shouldn’t come as a surprise or bother him. In this situation, it did both.
“What did she confide in you?” he asked.
She inclined her head. “She’s not sexually active at this point, if that’s what you’re asking. But Stella needed to talk to somebody who wouldn’t freak out on her. It’s a mark of how desperate she feels that I was the person she chose.”
“She trusts you,” he said like that was some revelation. “She likes you, which is far more than she feels for me. More than she’s ever felt for me, if I’m being honest.”
“Have you given her a reason to feel anything else?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She’s a troubled girl who’s been through a lot. She said you mentioned something about a convent.”
“I didn’t mean that, but I want to do what’s best for her. Like you said, she’s been through a lot. Are you telling me that you think becoming sexually active is a smart choice at her age?”
“I think what’s best for Stella is to feel loved no matter what she chooses. For the record, I counseled her to wait, and I think I was convincing. But she’s lost so much and feels very much alone. It’s a dangerous thing for a girl to believe she has nobody. That influences how and where she chooses to find love. What she believes she deserves gets warped.”
“She’s not alone,” Chase said.
Madison pursed her pink lips. She didn’t look to be wearing a stitch of makeup but was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She was clearly fierce and not afraid to speak her mind, but he could tell she truly cared about his stepsister.
Stella wasn’t the only one who felt alone.
The deaths of her parents might have triggered her feelings of abandonment, but Chase’s had started long before—the moment his father walked out on Chase and his mom when he was only five.
He told himself he didn’t care or need anyone. That had worked for most of his life, but not since Stella had come to live with him.
Madison might not like him or approve of the way he took care of his stepsister, but she made him feel less lonely in a strange way.
“What is it that you want from me?” Madison asked.
Chase tamped down the sudden need swelling like a wave in his chest. Of all the women for his body to take notice of, why did it have to be this one?
“I want to know Stella is going to be okay.”
Madison’s pert nose wrinkled. “I can’t promise that, but she has people here who care about her.”
“I want her to know I’m one of those,” he said. “She won’t believe me if I tell her. Maybe she’ll listen to you. I’ve messed up a lot but want to do better.”
“Do you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Stella said something about going to live with a friend who moved to Spokane last year. She thinks you’d prefer her out of your hair.”
“No.” The denial came out as a growl.
“Perhaps it’s a viable option,” Madison suggested, her voice quiet, “given the situation.”
He couldn’t decide if she believed the words or was testing him. His fists clenched at his sides. “Stella will stay with me unless I decide otherwise. I’m her legal guardian.”
After a few tense seconds, Madison nodded. “You should know I gave her my number. I told her she could reach out if she needed anything. It seems important that she knows there’s somebody she can trust and who’s available to her.”
“She can trust me.”
“I believe you.”
Her small concession felt like a victory.
Madison returned her attention to wiping the kitchen counter, and Chase recognized a dismissal. It had happened often enough growing up.
“Thank you. You’ll never have to see me again if everything goes well.”
She flashed the barest glimpse of a smile as she glanced at him through her long, spiky lashes. “Probably best for both of us.”
He nodded his agreement, even though he didn’t want to, and walked out into the night, heading for his truck, which was parked down the block.
Most of the Christmas lights that had sparkled from the windows of nearby buildings when he’d arrived in the neighborhood were turned off at this point. Chase appreciated the darkness, which fit his mood perfectly.
The following week, Madison held her hands tight against her stomach as she doubled over with laughter.
“It’s not funny,” her friend Tessa Campbell said on a hiss of breath.
“You really are a wild child, Tess.” Ella Samuelson gave Tessa’s shoulder a playful shove. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“I’m married and was welcoming my husband home from a business trip.”
“You were getting it on in public,” Madison clarified, then laughed again.
“How were we supposed to know the Starlight bingo brigade would be on a bird-watching hike at the lake? It’s normally deserted there this time of year.” She pointed at Ella. “You should have warned me they had permission to access the camp property.”
“Sorry, not sorry.” Ella grinned. “Talk about a full moon rising. I’m surprised none of those ladies had a heart attack or fainted from the shock.”
Tessa scoffed, her cheeks nearly as red as her flame-colored hair. “Trust me. They were enjoying the show.”
“Gives new meaning to the idea of beach blanket bingo,” Cory Schaeffer added, causing Ella and Madison to dissolve into giggles once more.
It had been nearly two years since Cory had moved to Starlight, Washington, with her baby and convinced—coerced and cajoled, more like it—Madison to help her host a monthly cooking club.
At the time, Cory was trying to convince her now-husband and Madison’s boss at the bar where she ran the kitchen that she belonged in the tiny town nestled in the Cascade Mountains of central Washington.
Despite being overqualified to be crafting menus and cooking at a local watering hole and restaurant, Madison had been on the verge of losing her job. Not because of a lack of culinary talent, but as a result of her surly attitude. It didn’t seem like she should be punished for expecting perfection. After all, she’d worked under some of the most challenging and demanding chefs in the business.
Apparently, making her staff cry on the regular was a deal-breaker for Jordan Schaeffer, the former football star who owned Trophy Room, the bar where she was still employed. Thanks to Cory.
Tessa and Ella had shown up for that first meeting, and the Chop It Like It’s Hot cooking club was off to the races.
Madison had denied liking the meetings and the women for several months. She hadn’t had female friends—any real friends—until that point. Her experience was with women who would backstab and sabotage instead of build each other up.
She could be ruthless and demanding and laser-focused on getting ahead. But she hadn’t given much thought to the price she was paying for that.
The cost had been relationships, potential friendships and her mental and physical health.
“I’m never going to live this down,” Tessa said, holding her head in her hands.
“Have another samosa,” Madison urged. “Carbs make everything better.”
They were meeting at Madison’s house for the cooking club. She had a feeling the rest of them would have put their official connection on hold if it wasn’t for the fact that, other than a few perfunctory instructions at the beginning of each session, Madison did most of the cooking.
Tonight was an Indian theme, with chicken tikka masala, samosas, saag paneer, and rice pudding for dessert. Although Madison was classically trained and had worked in some of the most lauded fine dining establishments in New York City and Seattle, she liked making food for real people.
Trophy Room was now known as much for her signature dishes as for its regional beer selection. She often experimented with her friends, who had no problem being her culinary guinea pigs.
Her phone rang where it sat on the counter, and she ignored it.
She left her sous-chef, who had her own unique ring, in charge on her nights off, so it must not be an emergency. The call flipped to voice mail and then immediately began to ring again.
“Somebody really wants to get ahold of you.” Ella picked up the phone and handed it to Madison. “Have you been on the dating apps again?”
Madison took the phone and turned it to silent without looking at the screen. “I’m not on the dating apps at all. The last thing I need in my life is a man.”
“Jordan hung up mistletoe above the bar,” Cory warned her. “You better not get caught under it.”
“No chance.”
Tessa dipped her samosa in the yogurt dressing. “Can you imagine a guy trying to kiss Madison without her permission? He’d be taking his life—or at least the family jewels—into his hands.”
“So funny,” Madison muttered, although it was true. She hadn’t been on a date in years and couldn’t imagine being interested in a man.
Unbidden, a vision of Chase Kent, the annoying stepbrother of sweet Stella, popped into her brain.
She reminded herself that she would likely never see him again, which was for the best since he’d been the first man in forever to make her lady parts sit up and take notice.
The phone vibrated. “You should at least see who’s calling,” Ella said.
Madison checked the screen and then quickly answered. “Stella? What’s going on? Are you okay?” She took a step away from the group. “Wait. Slow down. Hold tight, Stella. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
