Page 17 of Bringing Home the Biker

“What exactly are we doing with spatulas?”

Chapter Eleven

Star

The gingerbread house sat on the table in front of Axel and me and looked like it had just survived a natural disaster. Goopy frosting oozed down the walls and pooled around the base like it was giving up on life. Half of the roof had slid off and was teetering precariously on one side. A few gumdrops and candy canes had taken the plunge and were now scattered across the table, along with crushed pretzel sticks that had once been a valiant attempt at shutters.

Woods, Axel, and I had failed miserably at naming that Christmas song, and flipping cotton balls into a bowl with a spatula while blindfolded was not a secret talent any of us had.

The gingerbread build was supposed to be our saving grace.

It was, in fact, not.

Woods swiped his finger through a blob of icing and popped it into his mouth. “I think it looks great.”

I caught Axel’s eye, and we both cringed in unison. The look on his face said it all—this was not our finest moment.

“So,” Ben said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness as he eyed our masterpiece, “business is good at Armstrong Construction, huh?” He turned to Axel and clearly relished the opportunity to tease.

I bit the inside of my cheek and tried not to laugh. I really did. Axel was incredible at his job—an absolute perfectionist when it came to real buildings. But gingerbread construction? Maybe not his calling.

Axel rubbed the back of his neck and laughed. “Well, yes. But I can say with certainty that if cement was like this icing, I’d be looking for a new job.”

That did it. I couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst out laughing. Everyone else followed suit. Even Carmen, who wasusually the epitome of composed holiday cheer, was wiping tears from her eyes.

“We really thought we had this in the bag,” I admitted between giggles and gestured toward the sad mess in front of us. “I mean, we had a plan.”

“Yeah, and that plan went out the window about five minutes in,” Axel said and shook his head with a grin. He reached over to poke at a gumdrop still clinging to the edge of the roof. It fell off instantly and landed with a soft plop in the frosting puddle below.

Rain leaned against Ben and laughed so hard she could barely breathe. “This… this is amazing,” she managed to get out. “Armstrong Construction: Now taking gingerbread contracts.”

“All right, all right,” Axel chuckled.

Jim strolled over and took a long sip of his eggnog. He tilted his head and studied our creation like it was a piece in a museum. “You know,” he said and rubbed his chin, “it’s got a kind of… post-apocalyptic charm.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Carmen chimed in. “Very avant-garde. The frosting really speaks to the fleeting nature of time.”

“Or the fleeting nature of gravity,” Rain snorted.

“Hey!” Woods piped up, hands on his hips. “It’s not that bad! Right, Aunt Star?” His big, hopeful eyes turned on me, and I couldn’t bring myself to crush his spirit.

“Not bad at all, buddy,” I said and ruffled his hair. “It’s, uh, unique.”

“See?” Woods said, looking at everyone else like he’d just won an argument. “Unique is good!”

Ben raised his glass of punch. “To the unique house that tried its best.”

“To the house that defied the laws of architecture,” Rain added and raised her own glass.

“To unique charm,” Carmen said with a smile.

Axel reached for his eggnog and held it up. “And to never, ever using frosting as mortar again.”

We all clinked glasses—or, in Woods’ case, his bright green Grinch drink. I couldn’t help but laugh again as I looked at the mess in front of us. It was ridiculous and chaotic, but somehow, it was also perfect. The kind of imperfect memory that makes the holidays worth it.

I leaned into Axel and nudged his arm. “Thank you.”

Carmen clapped her hands together with a bright smile. “Okay, that’s enough for tonight. We all need to get to bed before Santa gets here.”

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