Page 30 of The Christmas List

Josie opens her mouth to speak, then snaps it shut as her gaze cuts to Lucy. “We’re… That… We’re not together. We’re just friends. Doing the Christmas List competition.”

Even though we haven’t definedus, and I haven’t wanted to push too hard after the other night and make her retreat… it still stings hearing that we’re only friends coming out of her mouth.

Not when it feels like so much more.

When whatever’s happening between us feels likeeverything.

“Y’all leave Josie alone now. Quit being nosy,” Mr. Pearce interjects before anyone else can add to the conversation, and I watch as immediate relief floods Josie’s face. She goes back to working on her gingerbread without sparing me another glance.

As much as I want to have this talk, I know now is not the time or place to have it, so I get to work adding the icing to pieces of the gingerbread house.

I also wasn’t bullshitting when I said this is not my strong suit, and most of the icing ends up on the table rather than the gingerbread.

It doesn’t take long before Josie’s groaning. “Wyatt, you realize that the icing goes on there, right?” Lifting a brow, she gestures to the cookie that’s admittedly a fucking mess.

“I’m aware, honey, but I don’t have a steady hand,” I say, cocking my head. “I could watch?”

She huffs. “No, we have to work together. There’s no way I can finish this thing by myself.”

Lucy is still working with Jude, and every time I look up at her, she seems to be sneaking another gumdrop into her mouth. I already warned her once that she’s going to end up with a stomachache if she doesn’t stop eating so much sugar.

Then Josie got this dreamy look on her face, sighing with a sweet smile. “You’re adorable when you’re being a cute, protective daddy.”

Clearly, she doesn’t think I’m still adorable now since I seem to be fucking up our chances of winning the Gingerbread Gala.

“Here, why don’t you work on the roof,” she says, pushing a small slab of chocolate my way. “Just put little lines that will make it look like shingles.”

My brow arches, and she sighs. “Just try, Wyatt.”

I almost forgot how competitive Josie could be, and I can’t stop the smile that splits my face. “You got it,honey.”

Working with the chocolate seems to be a little easier, so I find myself focused on the roof for several minutes. Once I’m finished, I get a glance of approval and a hint of a smile from Josie, so apparently, I didn’t fuck up this part too.

Lucy comes back over to our side of the table, helping Josie line the front of the gingerbread house with small bushes that she fashioned out of colored icing.

It’s actually starting to look like a house, which is surprising because every time I attempted to do this with Lucy in the past, I had a pile of iced gingerbread that we ended up eating just so it didn’t go to waste.

“Looks good, Jos,” I praise, taking to watching her put the finishing touches on the house. She glances over at me, my pulse racing when she gives me a sweet smile, her brown eyes lighting up.

“Thank you. It might actually be a winner. What do you think?”

I nod. “Of course.”

“Josie, what the hell is that?” Jensen blurts from across the table, his gaze trained on Josie’s gingerbread house.

Oh shit.

“What do you mean, what is that, Jensen? It’s a gingerbread house,” Josie says slowly, her eyes narrowed.

Jensen balks, lifting a dark brow. “Yeah, it looks like a brothel. Shit, sorry. A b-r-o-t-h-e-l,” he spells when Mrs. Pearce pins a pointed stare at him.

“Oh my God. Jude, cover Lucy’s ears.”

Jude reaches up behind Lucy and covers her small ears with his large hands, her toothless grin widening as she looks between Josie and Jensen.

“Jesus Christ, Jensen! It’s the house fromHome Alone, you… twat!” Josie cries.

I bring my fist to my mouth to cover my laugh, feigning a cough because I do not want the wrath of Josie Pearce right now. Apparently, Jensen has zero self-preservation because Josie is turning red with how mad she is. She just spent the last two hours working on that gingerbread house, only for her brother to tell her it looks like a damn brothel.

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