Page 40 of Santa's Mistletoe Playbook

“Unless there’s somereasonyou can’t handle it?”

“I can handle baking. No offense, but it’s like a bonus. Not real cooking.”

Bea wondered if lasers could really shoot out of her eyes. At that moment, Curtis snuggled up behind her, mumbling in his sleep as he groped for her.

“Great! I’ll need you to bring these over by Thursday night.” Bea hung up and started texting the most ridiculous, complicated elements she could think of.

“Whatcha doin’?” Curtis asked, yawning.

“Neal called.”

The effect was instant. Curtis shot up, glaring. “What did he want?”

“To see how I was doing. Not to tell me the truth. Not to ask me to meet him for dinner or to pick me up for a date—nothing like that.” There was a tinge of bitterness in her voice, but it died swiftly as she hit send. “I told him he needed to step up and do his half of the work and sent him a list of super complex elements to make, including miniature opera cakes and red and green panna cottas.”

“What? Why?”

“Because either he won’t do it and he’ll think that he’s screwing me up but then get a rude awakening on Friday night when we go into the contest ready without that stuff, or he’ll waste hours of his life—and probably Jasmine’s life—thinking he has to make some of it in order to keep me dangling on the hook.”

Curtis nuzzled her shoulder. “You’re a diabolical genius.”

“Only when I have you.”

Giggling, snuggling back beneath the covers, Curtis pulled her against him. “We should get up. We have a lot more to do.”

“I know. Thirty more minutes?” She swiveled her hips against his and felt his hardness ready to meet her.

“Temptress.”

“Ooh. Embroider that on the apron you get me for my birthday.”

“Hey, Bea. Hh. Hhh.”

Curtis stopped carefully wrapping the cooled sheets of gingerbread in plastic wrap as Bea held up her phone.

Thursday night. The final push. All elements needed to be made by Friday evening. Friday night would see teams of gingerbread enthusiasts and solo bakers assembling their creations in the Pine Ridge High gymnasium in front of hundreds of families.

“Oh, hey, Neal.” Bea had the phone on speaker.

“I’m really sorry, but I’m super sick. So sick. I didn’t get to make those things you asked me about.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And uh… I’m probably too sick to come to the event tomorrow. Hh. Hhh.”

“Are those supposed to be coughs?” Curtis whispered.

“Shh! Oh, that’s too bad, Neal.”

“Yeah. So. Uh… I’m sorry.”

“No worries.”

“But you’ll have to drop out. Right?”

“I don’t think so.”

“But you entered with a partner. You said you can’t switch categories once you’re entered.”

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