Page 55 of Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty

21

LILY

“Are you going to press charges?” Amelia asks, her face weaving in and out of our FaceTime call as she dresses quickly.

“Charges?”

“Against Mark?”

“Oh.” I snort softly, focusing on sliding a silver earring into place. “I don’t know, but honestly, who tries to ask someone out on a date with a cake topper theystolewhen breaking into their bakery?”

“An idiot,” Amelia mutters.

“I can’t believe he thought that would work. Did he imagine that I’d be so swept off my feet that he used acaketopper, because I’m a baker, that I’d forgive him for trashing my business?”

“I suppose his grand plan was to sweep in and help you clean up the mess, making him look irresistible and helpful. And instead, good old James got there first.”

“Cops weren’t kidding when they said the culprit returns to the scene of the crime,” I murmur, sliding the next earring in. I still can’t fathom how Mark saw that conversation going any other way. The moment he’d pulled out that cake topper, none of his lies about where he got it held any merit since all my cake toppers are unique to their cakes.

He’d broken into my bakery, trashed the place, and then somehow hoped I would still view him in a romantic light.

Just thinking it over makes me laugh. Better that than to cry.

“I saw him today at the end of the Nativity show,” Amelia says, dabbing purple onto her lips. “He couldn’t look me in the eye.”

“No wonder,” I reply. “Well, it’s up to the cops now. I told them I didn’t care. I just wanted it over with. On the plus side, having his confession will make it easier for my insurance to come through.”

“Ooh, and then you can treat yourself?” Amelia waggles her brows.

“No, then I can pay off the shelves and the new door at the bakery.”

“Damn. So responsible.” Amelia sighs. “Right, I’m away to my Christmas party. Have a nice date!” She winks at me, blows a kiss, and ends the call.

I roll my eyes and blow a kiss back just as the screen goes dark.

My date.

When James called asking to take me out on a real date, with real intention, I’d said yes because it would be the perfect opportunity for us to talk. I hadn’t expected him to then turn upat my home with a bag full of ingredients and a promise to cook for me.

“You bake all day,” he’d said, setting the bags down in the kitchen. “Let me create something for you.”

When Emma ran up to him for a hug and demanded help, I couldn’t say no. So right now, James is in my kitchen cooking me dinner alongside my daughter.

In another life, this would be a regular occurrence. Facing the truth of what we need to talk about will be difficult with Emma around, but once she goes to sleep, I’m certain I’ll be able to express all the things I need to say.

That mental confidence does nothing to untangle the nest of snakes in my gut as I head downstairs wearing a soft green dress that flows about my knees as I walk. A sweet and spicy scent fills the air when I approach the kitchen, and when I poke my head inside, I’m met with a delightful sight.

Emma stands on her stool with a hat made of paper on her head declaring her theHead Chef. It slants to one side as she ducks her head and focuses on stirring a saucepan. James is nearby, dancing along to the soft Christmas music that plays from his phone while he spins tortilla wraps around in his hands.

“How’s the sauce looking, Chef?”

“Tasty!” Emma declares with a lick of the spoon. “You did good.”

“Why, thank you.” James laughs. “Although, try not to eat it all before we put it in the pan.”

“Taste testing is important. Mommy says so,” Emma says matter-of-factly.

“That’s true,” James agrees, swaying back and forth. “But it’s so good you won’t want to stop.”

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