Page 21 of Stuck in Christmas

Then it hit me. “A baking montage.” I snapped my fingers.

Eli’s brow furrowed as he looked up from his batch of cookies. “Not quite ready for baking. You need to sift that flour first—then measure it out. Makes for fluffier cookies,” he explained.

I snapped another salute. “Yes, Chef.” I declared with mock seriousness.

A twinkle flashed in his eyes. “Here, we just stick with ‘Eli,’” he replied, his voice softening.

“Saluting you again, Chef Eli.” I forgot I had the cup of flour in my hand, and a puff of the white stuff floated through the air and didn’t seem to land anywhere. The air was redolent with flour and resembled the snow flurries from the night before.

Instead of getting mad, Eli shook his head at my mess, then pointed to my face. “You’ve got a little flour.”

“Where? Here?” I rubbed my cheek and felt flour streak my skin.

“No, higher.” He grinned.

I rubbed flour along my temple. “How about here?”

“For Pete’s sake, you’re making it worse.” Eli grabbed a towel from a hook on the end of the counter and approached me. “Stand still.” His fingers gently wiped away the flour, and in that fleeting moment, our eyes locked. It felt like the world around us faded, the kitchen growing quieter, the baking forgotten as the air thickened with an unspoken connection.

He was going to kiss me. I knew it in my soul. I wondered if this would turn into one of those kisses that broke the spell and sent me back to the real world. And then I wondered why the thought of that disappointment bothered me so much. Wasn’t that what I wanted? To get out of this repeating day and get back home?

In the end, we were interrupted again, this time by Joe, who stepped into the kitchen, clearing his throat with a rakish grin. “Ahem, Miss Renee—my Bonnie wanted you to have these.” He handed me a lockbox and a key with an exaggerated flourish.

A small thrill moved through me. I suspected this was the world-famous depository of the secret cookie recipes, but I wanted to be sure. “What’s this?”

Eli stepped away from me and busied himself at the sink. “The secret recipes of Miss Bonnie. Shemust trust you to give you the entire box and the key.”

Joe nodded knowingly. “She’s only ever let Eli see certain recipes—like the Christmas cookies.”

My eyes widened in astonishment. “Wow. That is an honor. Thank you. I’ll guard it with my life.”

“Bonnie will be glad to hear that.” Joe smiled. “She tells me your dad was in the Corps.”

“Your dad was a Marine?” Eli leaned on the central counter, getting flour all over his arms.

I pushed away the thought of how we could clean that off of him later and turned my attention to Joe. “His name was Fred. Did you know a Fred Douglas?”

“Now that you mention it," Joe mused. "I seem to remember training a Fred Douglas. Tall, dark hair, intense blue eyes. And all he could talk about was a woman named Emily.”

My heart fluttered at the mention of my mother’s name. “That’s my mom.”

“He was so in love with her,” Joe continued, his voice warm with reminiscence. “Did you know they met at a USO party?”

I nodded slowly, the pieces of a long-lost story coming together. “I knew they met at a party, but I didn’t know whose party it was.”

“Every year, the USO would sponsor a holiday party, and your mom came with her friends from college,” Joe explained. “As I recall, they locked eyes across the crowded dance floor and started walking toward each other. It wasn’t until they met in the middle of the floor that they realized they were standing under the mistletoe.”

My heart swelled. “That’s so romantic.”

“This time of year always is,” Eli added wistfully, glancing at me.

“I think they were destined to find each other,” Joe said.

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

Joe beamed. “Your mom wasn’t even supposed to be there that night. She’d planned a road trip with her friends, but they had car trouble. They couldn’t reach their destination—so they went to the USO dance instead.”

Eli leaned in, his eyes sparkling. “Kismet. Fate. Think about where you’d be if their car hadn’t broken down.”

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