Page 11 of The Twelve Months of Christmas
“But Grammy says we get to keep some for us,” Sophie put in, making sure all the gingerbread people wouldn’t run away.
“We should definitely keep some for ourselves,” Arianna said, and picked up one of the ones her mother had decorated. It was a gingerbread girl and Mia had piped a perfect trim on the skirt and bodice of her dress. Once a baker, always a baker.
The cookie was buttery, spicy and delicious. A few of those coupled with the little cookie balls dusted with powdered sugar would, hopefully, make a good holiday peace offering for their neighbor. Peace on earth, goodwill toward men next door. Still, she had no desire to go tromping over there. She had no desire to do anything, actually. She needed to recover from her Christmas stress.
“Can I take them over?” Sophie asked eagerly.
Their neighbor would probably be more inclined to take something from her cute little six-year-old with her freckled nose, flour-dusted chin and chestnut curls. The curls were done up in pigtails, using the tie-dyed scrunchies her father had given her for Christmas. She was wearing a red top with a snowman appliqued on it and white leggings with Santas on them that her other grandma had given her. (Wyatt’s mom gave Sophie a lot of presents. Too bad she couldn’t have given Sophie a dad who understood the meaning of commitment.)
“Let’s let your mommy deliver the cookies,” Mia said. “She and the nice man need to talk about some things.”
Ugh. Yes, they did. Arianna abandoned the cookie in favor of chewing off a thumbnail.
“Like what?” Sophie asked.
“Just boring grown-up stuff,” Mia said. “Do you want to put cinnamon candies on your man’s toes?”
It was enough to distract Sophie, which was fine with Arianna. She didn’t want to have to explain to her daughter that the grown-up stuff involved her mother apologizing for acting like a child.
“Maybe I’ll wait until later,” she ventured. “He’s probably not home.” Even though the lights were on next door.
“Never put off till tomorrow...” Mia said.
“What you can put off till the day after tomorrow,” Arianna said, earning a motherly frown.
It didn’t matter what age you were. Motherly frowns never lost their power. Arianna sighed and got busy assembling a plate of cookies, then covered them with plastic wrap and tied red curling ribbon around the plate, prettying it up with plenty of curls. She donned her coat and a smile and made her way next door.
The smile faltered a little when he opened his door and gave her a wary look, so she got right to it and held out the plate. “Peace offering. I was channeling the Grinch yesterday. I’m sorry.”
“We all have Grinch days,” he said, his wariness seeming to melt away as he smiled. His smile was the kind of smile that could make a girl want to climb up on his lap and tell him everything she wanted for Christmas. Arianna tamped that urge down stat.
“I was dealing with my ex. I guess that’s really no excuse, though.”
“Exes happen,” he said.
She bent to pet the little black Boston terrier, jumping on her leg. “I’m Arianna White. My daughter, Sophie, and I are living with my mom for a while.”
“Alden Brightman,” he said. “And Buster,” he added.
“Hello, Buster. You are so cute.”Like your master.
Alden Brightman was a head taller than her, with sandy hair and brown eyes edged with the beginnings of laugh crinkles. He had gorgeous big shoulders and thick pecs and a movie star mouth—the kind of mouth that made a woman want to feel it moving down her neck.
“Don’t swell his head,” said Alden. Then, “Did you get the smoke out of your living room?”
“Finally.”
“Good. Well, thanks for these,” he said, saluting her with the plate.
That signaled the end of the conversation, which was just as well. She was inclined to stand around and talk to Alden Brightman for a long time, and a long conversation with a hot man...with any man, was not something she needed to be considering right now.
“And thanks for helping us,” she said. “Happy New Year.”
“You, too,” he said.
She turned and walked down his front steps. He shut the door. That was that.
Still, that smile wouldn’t get out of her mind, and she couldn’t help wondering about him. What kind of work did he do? What did he do when he wasn’t working? Did he have a girlfriend?
