Page 25 of A Gingerbread Romance

This project was all hers, after all, and she’d been doing a fine job on her own. He was really just here for the heavy lifting.

Or so he kept telling himself.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” she said, her eyes skirting across the room. “Let’s try it.”

An hour later, the place looked perfect. Judy and the others had come out from the back to offer their opinions and had then gone home. Greta pulled out one of the chairs and sat down with a hefty, exhausted sigh. “I think we did it.”

Jonathan pulled out another chair and sat down on it backwards, facing her. “I think you’re right.” He held up his palm for a high five. “Put it there.”

She chuckled then lifted a hand to his, a wide satisfied grin lighting up her face. At the touch of her skin, warmth flooded him. He held his hand against hers for a few extra seconds, his eyes locking on hers.

For a second, he wanted to wrap his arms around her and take her in another one of those amazing kisses they’d shared that first night. But he let go. He’d only upset her if he tried doing that.

He dropped his gaze to the floor, then cleared his throat, eager to change the mood back to lighthearted and fun. “You know what it’s time for now?”

“No,” she said, a gentle grin shaping her lips. “What’s it time for now?”

“It’s time to celebrate.” He stood. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” she said suspiciously, then yawned politely as he reached his backpack on the other side of the room, “but I’m not going anywhere. I’m too tired to move.”

He found the backpack and unzipped it, then pulled out a narrow, insulated cooler. From that, he lifted a cold bottle and two plastic champagne flutes and held them up for her to see. “This calls for bubbly.”

EIGHT

The air filled with a sense of quiet anticipation, as though the universe itself had conspired to bring them together. “You brought champagne?” Her brow had lifted, her heart melting. She rose from the chair slowly and moved toward him, her hands to her cheeks.

He nodded, his voice tender. “You’re breaking ground on a whole new business venture here. You deserve to celebrate.”

It was all she could do to stop herself from stretching on tiptoes and kissing him. “That was so sweet, Jonathan. Thank you.” How was she ever going to repay him for all he’d done for her?

His grin was modest. “Don’t mention it. We’re celebrating you and your new coffee shop. This isn’t about me.” He set the glasses down on a table. Greta went behind the counter and found him a towel to cover the cork, and he opened the bottle, then poured them each a glass, her heart full. When was the last time a man in her life had been so thoughtful, so generous, so concerned abouther? She couldn’t remember. Well, besides all the other things Jonathan had done for her in the past week.

Under the soft glow of the bakery’s pendant lights, he lifted his glass. “To the Smithfield Bakery and Coffee House.”

Greta repeated his words, delighted. She drank, enjoying every bit of the accomplishment that the cold liquid celebrated.

Swallowing, she sighed with contentment. “You know, I haven’t even thought about changing the name. Should I add the words ‘coffee house’ to the name of the bakery?”

Jonathan shrugged, winking. “Only if you want to. I was just saying that to make it sound more official.” He grinned, and she laughed.

He studied the large windows on either side of the gingerbread house display. The display was set safely apart from the dining area inside the picture window. “Actually, I think you can put a sign in one of these windows that tells people you’re serving coffee now, and they’ll be able to see the tables from outside. So no, you wouldn’t really have to change the name if you don’t want to.”

“Good.” Greta laughed. “Because I’m out of money for upgrades, at least for now.”

Jonathan laughed. “I’m sure that won’t last. You’ll be rolling in—dough—in no time. Oh, wait,” he said, with a glance at the kitchen, you already are.”

She chuckled, but Jonathan was right. This was a big deal. It felt good to recognize it. And to feel seen and heard and appreciated.

“You know,” Greta said as they both sat down again, “I ought to read up on how to run a coffee shop business like this. I really don’t have the first idea about optimal pricing and how much inventory to keep on hand and all that. Do you think the business consultant I’m working with could help me with that?”

Jonathan thought it over, careful not to make it sound as though he, too, knew Berg. “I’m sure he would, but one of my sisters-in-law runs the coffee shop at the North Star Ski Resort. It’s a busy place, and she’s been the manager for years. I could ask her to stop in. She and my brother Luke will be in town on Tuesday afternoon.”

“Really? That would be great.” Greta loved the idea, one shop manager to another, offering real-world advice. “Thanks.”

Another half hour or so passed as they sipped their champagne and talked about how each of their days had gone, how Jonathan had taken Nancy to look at available properties to lease for her clothing store and how she’d found one she really liked. And how Greta’s store had, fortunately, been very busy this weekend because of the festival.

The sun dropped below the horizon, so Jonathan helped Greta pull the blinds on the large front windows, since the store was closed.

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