Page 79 of A Very Merry Enemy
“You have help?” Wendy’s eyebrows shoot up. “Who?”
“Tell us!” Bella moves closer, eyes narrowed.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes!” all three of them say together.
I sigh and untie my apron. “Lucas.”
They scream with excitement.
“I knew it!” Bethany shouts, jumping up and down and nearly knocking over the decorations on the counter.
“You’re baking together again!” Bella clutches her chest like she might faint.
Bethany grins. “Aunt Holiday, that’s so romantic.”
“It’s not romantic. He offered to help so we could get used to working together for the contest. That’s it. Now, time for y’all to go home before I change my mind.” I shoo them toward the door.
“But we want to see—” Bella starts.
“Out. Now.”
They gather their things, but they’re giddy. Bethany hugs me. Bella and Wendy are already whispering and giggling as they head across the parking lot toward the gift shop.
I look around, taking in the bakery. The Christmas lights strung along the exposed beams are twinkling in the afternoon sun, and the massive tree in the corner that Hudson and Emma decorated with Colby catches the light and sparkles with silver and gold ornaments.
When I think about Lucas, my stomach does a nervous flip that I refuse to acknowledge. I redo my ponytail, pulling it high and tight, then immediately let it down. I go with a low messy bun that’s effortless as I clean until the bakery is spotless.
Five minutes before three, I hear the low rumble of an engine that makes my pulse kick up. I hate myself a little for it.
Lucas is tolerating me because he has to. We’re two people making cookie dough together. That’s it.
I glance out the window, watching him. He’s in his jeans,wearing layers, with a scarf wrapped around his neck. The black beanie does something to me.
Lucas tries the door, but it’s locked. I rush to open the door, and when he steps inside, I can smell his cologne. Cold November air rushes in with him. When I look up into his green eyes, my stomach flips with anticipation.
“Hi.” His voice is rough.
“Hey. You’re on time.”
“Thought I’d spare you today,” he says, locking the door behind him.
As we’re standing beside one another, the bakery feels like it shrinks in size. It grows more intimate as Bing Crosby croons “White Christmas.”
The afternoon light streams through the windows, giving everything a golden glow.
“You’ve got pine needles stuck to you,” I say, plucking them off his shoulder.
He removes his beanie and runs his hand through his dark hair.
“This is really awkward,” I tell him, moving back to the prep area.
“Yeah,” he agrees, shrugging off his jacket and scarf. He hangs everything on the coat rack by the door. “How do we get past that?”
I shrug. “Have sex?”
His jaw clenches. “Not happening.”
