Page 15 of Fa-La-La-La Faking It
“Because it’s Christmas,” he finally said. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets while he waited for her to tell him that wasn’t a real reason.
“Okay,” she said instead.
“Okay?” he echoed.
“Fa-la-la-la-la and all that.” She rolled her eyes and trudged past him toward the bakery’s back room. “You should probably follow me before I change my mind.”
Fuzzy bounced in her arms with each resigned step. Jace winked at the puppy and fell in step behind them.
“Fa-la-la-la-la.”
An hour later, Christmas music drifted from the overhead speakers, the scent of freshly baked gingerbread mingled with the smell of the majestic fir tree and Adaline almost felt she was in a holiday rom-com.
Except there was zero chance of anyromin this particular rom-com equation. Truth be told, there was barely anycom. At least that’s what Adaline told herself, even though the mood in the bakery felt downright cozy.
But was it even possible to maintain a safe, standoffish distance with someone while decorating a Christmas tree? And what kind of monster refused to listen to a little Michael Bublé or Mariah Carey while hanging ornaments? Not Adaline. If they were really going to do this, they were doing it right. Scrooges, take note.
But that meant there was nothing personal whatsoever about the music. Or the baking. Or the way Adaline’s breath caught in her throat when she had to duck beneath Jace’s outstretched arms while they draped sparkly garland around the tree. Evenifthat last moment felt more like a dance than a holiday chore.
Once Jace had helped her unearth her boxes of ornaments, lights and garland, they’d fallen into a companionable silence. Jace expertly wound the strands of pink lights around the tree’s slender branches while Adaline slid a pan of gingerbread men—along with her new special this year, gingerbreaddogs—into the oven. She felt weird just standing there watching him, and the dough had already been cut into shapes and placed on a baking sheet in her Smeg retro-series pink refrigerator. Fuzzy kept himself directly underfoot as she piped each cookie with lacy white royal icing, because again, if Adaline was going to take the time to perform a holiday-related task, she was going to do it with her whole, Christmas-loving heart. It really didn’t matter if the person benefiting from her yuletide spirit was Jace Martin.
Don’t be so sure, a tiny voice said in the back of her head as Jace moaned out loud after biting into a warm Cavalier-shaped gingerbread cookie. The voice sounded awfully similar to Maple.
“What did you put in these? Unicorn tears?” Jace turned the cookie over, inspecting it from every angle. A lone crumb fell, and Fuzzy caught it before it had a chance to hit the ground.
“Unicorn tears? Don’t be silly.” Adaline bit the leg off a gingerbread man. Sweet molasses with a kick of spicy clove melted on the tip of her tongue. “These are Christmas cookies. They’re made with the tears of flying reindeer.”
“Cute.” Jace winked.
Adaline let out an accidental giggle. Then she froze—a reindeer in headlights. Were they...flirting?
She turned to face the tree and shoved what was left of the gingerbread man into her mouth. It landed in the pit of her stomach like a rock. She coughed and beat on her chest with a closed fist while Fuzzy pawed at her shin in alarm.
There it was: thecomin this imaginary rom-com.
Or was it therom?
Adaline couldn’t really tell, and that was a problem. A big one.
“You okay?” Jace narrowed his gaze at her. “Do you want me to get you some water or anything?”
“I’m fine,” Adaline squeaked.
So,sofine. She’d never been so fine in her life. Jace clearly didn’t know her very well. Never had, never would.
“I think we’re probably done here, don’t you?” she said, concentrating intently on the tree.
Unfortunately, it looked amazing. Cherry on Top had never looked so festive, and she had Jace to thank for it. Dang him and dang the sled he rode in on. The man was like Martha Stewart disguised as a hot, tree-wielding lumberjack.
“Oh.” The easy smile on Jace’s face dimmed. He sounded almost disappointed. “I guess we are.”
“Thank you for the Christmas tree.” Adaline placed a few of the leftover gingerbread cookies into a cellophane bag, tied it with some of the pink ribbon they’d used to make bows for the tree and handed the bundle to Jace.
She’d always been better at expressing herself through baking than through actual words. Hence the Great Jace Cookie Disaster of Fifth Grade, plus the post-prom cake humiliation in high school.
She wanted to snatch the cookies back the instant he accepted them. Ugh, would she ever learn?
Adaline pasted a smile on her face. “I guess I’ll probably see you around the retirement center.”
