Page 102 of Only for the Season
On the first day of baking, my oven gave to me:
One burnt bottom crust and some sass from Viking’s stare.
On the second day of baking, the smugglers begged from me:
Two rum pecan pies
And one burnt bottom crust and some sass from Viking’s stare...
Viking chirps when he hears his name and I smile down at him. He’s currently mad at me since he’s stuck in his crate.
I wag my finger at him. “You shouldn’t have jumped into the bowl with the dough for my sugar cookies. The dough was supposed to be for my North Pole Narwhal Nibbles.”
He chirps again and gives me his puppy dog eyes.
I snort. “You can’t fool me, Viking. I’ve fallen for those puppy dog eyes one too many times. I have way too much baking to do today to be distracted by you. No matter how adorable you are.”
It’s crunch time for the bakery. Christmas is only a few days away, and the cookies and pies are flying off the shelves.
I don’t mind all the extra work. Being exhausted means I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to miss Jeremy.
I’m lying. Of course, I miss Jeremy. I miss his warm body cocooning me in warmth and safety all night. I miss him trailing off mid-sentence because he thought of some brilliant idea. I miss how good he can make me feel.
I plain miss him. I miss the man who makes me feel as if I matter. Who listens to me. I’m a goner for the billionaire. No one is more surprised than me.
My phone beeps with a message. Speaking of Scrooge.
Good news. I should be home tonight.
My stomach warms.Home.Does he consider Smuggler’s Hideaway home?
Can’t wait to see you.
I’ll be there soon, Princess.
I heart the message before putting my phone away and returning to work. I didn’t know what to expect when Jeremy left. Would he call? Would he message? Would he go silent? I didn’t dare ask.
To my delight, he didn’t go silent. He calls every evening. And he messages me good morning every day.
Holly peeks her head in from the bakery. “Sorry to bother you but we have a situation out front.”
“What kind of situation?”
Her nose wrinkles. “One you have to deal with.”
I blow out a breath. “Fine. Give me a second to check my timers.”
“No hurry,” she says before disappearing.
My brow wrinkles. No hurry? What kind of situation is this?
I scan the ovens and my timers. I have ten minutes before the next batch of cookies is done. I wash my hands before making my way into the bakery.
I stop dead in my tracks when I realize what the situation is. Triton’s trident. I do not want to interact withthem.
Unfortunately, they spot me before I can sneak back into the kitchen. They smile and wave as they make their way toward me.
A small kernel of hope blossoms inside me. Maybe they’re here to invite me to Christmas dinner at their house. It is the season of miracles after all.
