Page 47 of A Very Titan Christmas
“Ugly Christmas sweater…” Eloise pinched her lips together as if mulling over the idea.
“The detail work on the cookies would be a lot,” Bryce offered. “And then kids could just make ugly cookies.”
“The cookies were supposed to be different shapes, but,” Eloise mused, “we have enough time to adjust the order.” She smiled. “Thank you.”
And just like that, Eloise was convinced.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The scent ofvanilla and powdered sugar hung in the air as though Rachel and Bryce had wandered into Mrs. Claus’s kitchen at the North Pole. Silverberry Ridge’s annual cookie decorating fundraiser had taken over the Cozy Cookie bakery, transforming it into a twinkling wonderland of garlands, frosting tubes, and Christmas chaos. Laughter and holiday music floated around the too-small room, broken only by the occasional splat of a decorating disaster.
Rachel stood at the end of the long folding table, gripping a piping bag like it was a weapon of war. Her hands were sticky with red and green icing. A smattering of edible gold glitter streaked across her cheek. She was aiming for an ugly Christmas sweater cookie that screamed holiday kitsch. Instead, the sweater on her cookie looked like it had melted off an elf.
“Your cookie has seen things,” Bryce murmured beside her, nodding solemnly at her subpar decorating skills. “Or is that a little kid’s cookie that you’re trying to patch up?”
Rachel snorted, barely resisting the urge to elbow him. “It’s festive and fun.”
“It’s a crime against sugar.” He leaned closer to inspect her handiwork, brushing his arm against hers. When he straightened, he brushed a kiss to her temple and returned to his cookie in progress, adding sugar googly eyes. His cookie featured a lime-green sweater decorated with pretzel antlers and mini marshmallow buttons. It was irritatingly perfect.
She arched an eyebrow. “Remind me again why you’re here?”
“Because I’m your devoted boyfriend, remember?” He winked.
Rachel’s traitorous stomach fluttered. Stupid wink. Stupid, beautiful hazel eyes. “I think myboyfriendshould be more supportive, not critical of my cookie art.”
“Supportive?” He studied his cookie as though he were a culinary god who had become a pastry chef. “Babe, I’ve lied to your mother and survived a dinner inquisition. That’s the height of support.”
Bryce had been by her side in the days that had passed since the dinner with her parents. They hadn’t talked about the up-against-a-door, mind-melting kiss. They hadn’t talked about what he’d said to her parents about stability. She hadn’t asked to thread her fingers back into his silky hair or to have him bite her lip again.
Instead, they’d simply acted like Silverberry Ridge tourists—while fanning the sexual tension and chemistry she forbade them to discuss.
Her gaze flicked to the far side of the room, where Eloise was monitoring a table of previous town winners vying for another cookie-decorating win. “There’s a chance that, if you weren’t my boyfriend, Eloise would use her clipboard to take notes on potential suitors at the contest, ranking them by their probable 401(k) size and family Christmas card potential. Oh, and for top-notch DNA for beautiful grandbabies.” Rachel studied her mom. “Actually, she might be doing that right now.”
Bryce laughed. “Well, if that guy with the light-up Rudolph sweater vest edges over here, I’ll sweep you off your feet and fake propose.”
“You’d better.”
Their bickering, which had started at the marketplace, had tapered off. They’d gotten rid of Eloise’s lingering doubts about the realness of their relationship. They were pretending, but somuch of what Rachel felt was real. The more she tried to ignore that, the more problematic it became, and when Bryce laughed with her like that, the line between pretend and real was growing fuzzier.
He reached for a handful of gumdrops. “You still do that thing where you stick out your tongue when you concentrate.”
“I do not.”
“You do,” he said. “It’s cute.”
Rachel rolled her eyes and focused on her cookie. His laughter was distractingly wonderful.
“Remember that time you kissed me behind the gym after the Homecoming Dance? Before we were dating. Cute little Rachel Porter just smacked one on my lips and ran.”
“That was a dare.”
“Liar.”
She bumped him with her hip.
He bumped her right back. “My sixteen-year-old heart fell for you then and there.”
Like she was a kid again, Rachel elbowed him. He scooted out of the way, and she knocked into the bowl of crushed candy canes. Red-and-white shards skittered across the table.
