Page 38 of A Gingerbread Romance

“Thanks.” It wasn’t much like his place at home, but it was nice. Furnished, stocked with the needed kitchen ware, towels, and bedding, and it was decorated—simple and modern. “The shower’s got a powerful head on it, and the heater in the apartment must be new, because I don’t alternate between sweating and freezing, so I’m pretty happy here.”

Greta laughed. “That’s a far cry from my grandmother’s house, where the plumbing dates back about a million years.”

She glanced at the tabletop Christmas tree he’d bought today, donned with ribbons and decked in lights. He’d set it in the apartment’s small living room where it was darker, to set the mood. He had to admit; it looked pretty romantic. As good as any candles, although he’d put one of those on the table, too. Unlit as yet.

“Oh, I love this!” she said, noticing the tiny tree. “I should get one of these for my house, too.” He made a mental note to get one for her.

He poured them each a glass of wine—he’d actually bought a bottle, too—and she joined him in the kitchen, then glanced at the table he’d set.

“Wow,” she said, walking to the table set with plates, flatware, and napkins.” She smiled. “You went to so much trouble for me. Thank you.” He heard the sincerity in her voice as she shimmied over and reached up to brush her lips over his.

His cheeks warmed a little. Had he done too much? Nah, she deserved it. “It was no trouble. I like doing things for you.”

Greta kissed him again. “It smells amazing in here, too,” she said, glancing at the stove then at the granite island countertop where a cutting board and knife still lay among the mess he’d made. “What are you making over there?”

“Well, I hope you like seafood?”

Greta nodded. “I love it.”

“Good,” Jonathan recited in a mock chef’s voice, grinning, “because tonight’s menu is a serving of seared scallops over baby spinach with a spiced pomegranate glaze.”

Her mouth gaped. “Wow. You did all this just today?” Her eyes were wide. “You never told me you could cook until today, by the way.”

He smiled. “Yeah, well, I’m not too bad at it. My Aunt Linda taught us.” She’d taught all three of his brothers, but Linda liked to say she’d taught him the best. That was probably only because Jonathan was the oldest and had been the one to pick up the slack when Linda was at work, growing up, so he’d had the most practice. “I might be a bit of a foodie.”

Greta grinned. “A bit, huh?”

He wasn’t particularly picky—he’d eat whatever someone put in front of him—but he enjoyed trying new foodsandnew recipes. It might also be the frequent business dinners and traveling he’d done over the years that had given him an appreciation for fine food. Plus, when he did something, he went all in. Some statements were worth making.

“Come on, you didn’t think I’d microwave a pizza when I’ve got a date with someone who went to culinary school, did you?” He reached for her arm and ran his fingers down her wrist.

Greta raised an eyebrow at his comment, grinning back. “Well, my focus was on desserts, so you’ve already outdone me, but I appreciate the effort, because I, too, am a bit of a foodie,” she said, inhaling the savory smells coming from the stove and taking hold of his hand. He squeezed her fingers gently. “And I can’t wait to taste it,” she added.

He figured she enjoyed food as much as he did, considering what she did for a living. He knew they’d have that in common. “I can’t wait to take you to some of my favorite restaurants in Baltimore.”

She smiled. “I would love that. I haven’t been there in so long.”

He still couldn’t believe they’d crossed this line, from friends to—more, but he was all in.

“Well, cheers to that,” Jonathan said, reaching for his glass and then raising it to hers.

“Cheers,” Greta said, raising hers and then taking a sip. “So, does this mean you want me to come and visit you sometime?”

Jonathan was glad she’d brought it up. “It sure does. I was thinking we could take turns, after I go back home. You come out there some weekends, and I’ll come here the other weekends. What do you think?”

“I think that’s a great idea. I can start taking some Saturdays and Sundays off once the holidays are over, and I can’t wait to see what your home turf is like.”

She was saying everything he’d hoped she would. Because they’d need to try this for a while and see how things progressed.

“And are you okay with the long-distance thing? I mean—it’s not that long a distance, right?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not really that far at all. And yeah, I’m okay with it.”

Jonathan sighed with relief. “Good.” He pulled her into a hug and relished the feel of her head against his chest.

A few minutes later, Jonathan checked the stove, finding his wooden spoon, then stirred and lowered the fire on the potatoes he was boiling so he could mash them. “So, do you have any plans for Christmas yet?” he asked. He was pretty sure her grandmother wouldn’t be back, and he’d hate to see her alone for the holidays. Plus, he’d love it if he could spend them with her.

She curled her lip, but he could tell she was trying to be upbeat about it. “Uh, no, nothing, really. My grandmother will be in San Antonio by then, apparently, so I thought I’d probably just sleep in a little, make a nice breakfast on Christmas morning, bake some sugar cookies that afternoon, maybe?” She didn’t do a lot of the baking at the store anymore, she’d told him, so baking was mostly just for fun, now. “The bakery will be closed on Christmas Day, and we’re closing at four as usual on Christmas Eve. Oh, and we’ll be announcing our gingerbread house winner tomorrow,” she said excitedly, “so we can deliver the gingerbread house on the twenty-fourth to the lucky customer.”

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