Page 12 of A Very Daddy Christmas

“This is my building,” Orson hisses.

“Pretty sure I’m standing in a bakery,” Sebastian replies.

“The Levine Bakery. Owned by the Levine sisters,” Waylan adds, giving Eva and me a soft smile of polite acknowledgment. Even that is enough to send tingling sensations down my spine.

“We’re renting,” Eva tries to diffuse the situation.

“It’s still your place of business,” Sebastian interjects. “You’re in charge. He just leases the space.”

“Not for long,” Orson sneers. “But I don’t have the time or the energy to argue with you three. I need to get going. Come on, George. We can grab a coffee somewhere else. Now I have another reason to get rid of this place quickly.”

George follows him out the door, and all I can do is stare at them in disbelief long after they’ve crossed the street. A timid sun pours through, its golden light dancing across the bakery’s tables while I try to wrap my head around the scene my sister and I just witnessed.

“Orson St. James,” Waylan says. “I know he’s your landlord, but does he actually come around for coffee and croissants?”

I shake my head slowly. “No, he’s only doing it to piss us off.”

“Why?” Sebastian asks.

Eva is shaken by the whole encounter, I can tell. She gives the guys a faint smile, then gently squeezes my wrist over the counter. “I need to do some inventory in the back room. Give me a few minutes?”

“Yeah, do your thing,” I reply. “I’ll man the starship.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as she’s gone, the guys move closer while I get behind the counter, if only to keep some physical distance between us. My lips tingle. My core is on fire. Everything about them has my engines rumbling and my body begging for more of last night. And it was just a kiss, for goodness sake. I cannot, for the life ofme, understand why they have such an effect on me.

“What’s going on here?” Sebastian asks.

“Can I offer you coffee?” I reply with a smile.

“Cora.”

“Ugh, fine. If you really want to know—”

“We really do,” Waylan says, the corner of his mouth tugging up ever so slightly. He is clearly curious, maybe even a tad amused. I guess he has no reason to feel intimidated by the likes of Orson St. James. They think of him as a joke. Or someone beneath their level. At least, that’s the vibe I’m getting from them. “What’s Orson’s deal? Why does he want to piss you off?”

“He’s selling the building out from under us,” I say, the words rolling off my tongue at the same time tears work their way into my eyes. “He told me yesterday at the fair. It’s a long and complicated story, but he wants us out byNew Year’s Eve.”

Riggs clears his throat and rests his elbow on the counter. The look he gives me causes tiny flames to burst everywhere on my skin. How can a man set a woman ablaze with a mere look?

“Tell us everything. We’ve got time for coffee,” Riggs says.

I oblige and brew three shots of espresso, giving them a moment to decide on how they want their coffees. Then I explain. Once I’m done telling the story, I notice a subtle shift in their expressions. Concern. A tinge of grief. Anger when Orson’s name comes up.

“Eva found this other clause in the contract,” I say. “The gift that keeps on giving.”

“What does it say?” Sebastian asks.

“We can buy the bakery if we have enough money to cover the current market price, and he’s obligated by that specific clause to accept our offer unless someone tops it during the escrow period. Which is just about three months.”

The men exchange glances, then look back at me.

Riggs smiles again, and once more, I feel my chest constricting pleasantly. “It’s not common, but it’s not unheard of, either.”

“Yeah, that’s what Eva said. Especially in the previous century,” I reply, chuckling softly. “And it’s also not that uncommon when there’s a preexisting, cordial relationship between the landlord and the tenant. In this case, Mr. Selznick and my dad, God rest their souls. They had time and plenty of conversations on the matter. My parents wanted to buy the building once they were able to afford it.”

“Okay, so, basically you can still save your bakery,” Waylan concludes.

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