Page 50 of Hot Chocolate & Hitmen

I groan, tossing a bit of flour in Key’s direction. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Insufferably charming,” he shoots back, dodging the flour with a wink.

As the cookies begin to pile up on the counter, I step back to admire the sheer chaos we’ve created. There are snowflakes, Christmas trees, reindeer, and–thanks to Key–an entire army of gingerbread warriors. Add my secret batch into the mix, and…it’s a bit eclectic, to say the least.

“Alright,” I say, wiping my hands on a dish towel. “Now comes the hard part…Decorating.”

Key cracks his knuckles. “Prepare yourself, Grace. You’ve never seen frosting artistry like this.”

I watch as he grabs a piping bag, filled with vibrant green frosting, and begins working on one of his gingerbread men. With swift, precise movements, he adds a little face, a candy cane sword, and even a tiny helmet made out of a gumdrop.

“You’re seriously going all out, huh?” I ask, unable to hide my amusement.

“Oh, this is just the beginning,” he says with a wicked grin. “These gingerbread warriors are going to be legendary.”

The next hour is a blur of frosting, sprinkles, and more Christmas puns than I thought possible.

Atlas, ever the stoic one, quietly works on his own cookies, which are surprisingly neat and symmetrical, considering his usual brute force approach to things.

Key, true to form, begins decorating his warrior gingerbread men with an absurd level of detail. I watch in amusement as he painstakingly adds candy cane swords to each one, his tongue sticking out in concentration.

“They’re ready for the front lines,” he says proudly, holding up one of his creations.

I squint at the cookie, biting my lip to keep from laughing. “Key...that gingerbread man has a six-pack.”

“And?”

“And...I’m pretty sure gingerbread men don’t have abs.”

He grins, unfazed. “Mine do. These are special forces gingerbread men. Only the best.”

Teddy lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he adds the finishing touches to his own cookies–elegant snowflakes with intricate icing patterns. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously talented,” Key corrects, flashing a grin.

By the time we’re finished, the kitchen looks like it’s been hit by a Christmas tornado. Flour dusts every surface, bowls are piled high with frosting in various colors and sprinkles scattered across the floor like confetti. Yet, it’s perfect. There’s something so warm, so festive about the chaos we’ve created, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I am completely at ease.

“We really outdid ourselves,” I add with a grin, looking at the piles of cookies. They’re a mishmash of holiday shapes and gingerbread men: Key’s warrior army, Teddy’s elegant snowflakes, Atlas’s sturdy, straightforward reindeer, and my own batch of absurdly decorated surprise additions.

I have to hold in a laugh every time I think about how they haven’t noticed yet.

Key tosses his piping bag onto the counter, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “Damn right we did. If these cookies were a Christmas carol, they’d beJingle Bell Rock. A total banger.”

Teddy snorts, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “More likeGrandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.”

“Oh, ha-ha,” Key retorts, rolling his eyes. “We’ll see who’s laughing when the judges declare me the cookie king.”

“Wait,” I interject, “who are the judges?”

Key pauses, his expression faltering. “Uh...I figured we’d judge ourselves.”

“Oh, so this is just a popularity contest, then?” Atlas rumbles from his spot at the counter, where he’s meticulously rearranging his reindeer cookies. “You’ve already lost, Key.”

“Excuse me,” Key says, feigning offense as he places a hand over his heart. “I have the charm and the cookie creativity. If anyone’s going to win this bake-off, it’s me.”

I shake my head, unable to stop the giggles that bubble up as the boys continue bickering. Then I point to the final tray of cookies that still needs frosting. “How about we split this last batch and see who can make the best Christmas pun while we finish decorating?”

Key’s eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Now that I can get behind. You’re going down, Sugar. I’ve been training for this my whole life.”

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