Page 27 of Miss Humbug
I blinked rapidly. “It’s coating my eyelashes. This flour is worse than sand!”
Ethan only grinned and handed me a dry dish towel. “Stand over the sink and brush some of it off dry before—”
Too late, I’d already run the towel under the faucet and smacked it against my floury face. I jerked the towel away when I realized what he said.
His expression remained completely still.
“It’s bad isn’t it?”
Without speaking, he took the towel and dabbed the area around my eyes.
I couldn’t breathe. He stood so close. He dabbed so gently.
A buzzing sounded in my head. Ethan’s presence felt welcome and wanted. High school Marlowe would have incinerated with embarrassment over imagining him wiping my face with such care. Or cracked up laughing, ruining the moment.
But I didn’t dare laugh. This wasn’t funny. This was…sexy.
Yes, I was a hot mess with dry ingredients now wetly smeared across my face who considered this moment sexy. I had issues.
Ethan physically turned my body at the shoulders and pointed me toward the hall bathroom. “Go clean yourself up, you heathen.”
The moment shattered, I scurried to the bathroom to wash up.What was that out there?Me going googly eyed over my high school crush? The man was trying to win land. He didn’t care how his gentle dish towel caresses sent me to a romantic place.
Get a grip, lady. Ethan wasn’t interested in me romantically. He never had been or he would have obviously said or done something by now. He needed the land in our deal. Simple as that.
By Friday, treats were baked and sorted in plastic containers. I had one last batch of sugar cookies in the oven so we’d have extra just in case.
So far, we’d operated professionally since the dish towel incident. If professional included constantly joking with each other and a mishap where I miscalculated measurements and added a teaspoon of celery salt to a cookie batch instead of cinnamon. Was it my fault the spice packaging all looked the same and I’d also accidentally switched the labeled lids?
Yes. Yes, it was my fault.
For bake sale packaging, I found holiday ribbon and the Holly family stamp Grans had used during her peak bake sale production days. Using Grans’ stamp felt a little like cheating. Relying on the family name I’d worked so hard to separate myself from.
Ethan arrived that afternoon, causing a ruckus in the hall.
“That must be my tree.” Grans swept by my cookie operation to the door.
Ethan walked past the kitchen doorway moments later hauling a huge tree through the house. I glanced at my fitness tracker watch. December first. Like Ethan’s dad said—he personally delivered Grans’ Christmas tree.
I’d helped Grans bring out boxes of decorations earlier. She didn’t ask, but I couldn’t let her do the work alone, regardless of my feelings on figurine villages and hokey decor where collecting dust was its sole purpose.
Ethan set up the tree in a stand in the exact spot it always went, in the corner of the family room by the big window. A smaller, fake tree adorned the front parlor, facing out to the street. This tree could only be seen by the family inside or by walking through the yard.
He found me in the kitchen a few minutes later. I’d retreated here after I found myself staring while he worked. He’d peeled off his flannel down to a light gray T-shirt that hugged his arms in an extremely appealing way.
“Check this out.” He grabbed his coat and unearthed a wood block from the pocket. “For you.”
A stamp was affixed to the block with a new logo on it.Marlowe Hollywas spelled out in a cursive font encased by a decorative circle. Fresh and modern and mine.
I gasped. “How did you get this? And when? So fast?”
He laughed. “I’ve got a buddy with a 3D printer. Rob’s good at design, so I had him create the logo. We’ve always got wood around, so the construction part was easy.”
The wood had been sanded smooth and shined on the top as if a gloss seal had been added. No words came.
“If you don’t want to use it, that’s fine. No big—”
I threw my arms around him. A moment of pure joy filled me. Breathless, I pulled back. “It’s perfect. I can’t believe you had time to do this. Youmadethis.”
