Page 25 of Wylder Ranch
“Great choice!” Alex declares again with a level of enthusiasm that only confirms his nerves. “And we’ll take a selection of whatever’s on offer. All of it.”
Gemma regards us and this strange little scene we have going on with a slight raise of her brow. I don’t know how well she knows Alex, but I can tell it’s enough to understand his behavior is not usual. But she leaves after saying, “Coming right up.”
Alex twists his body around to face me, straightens up the tiny vase of flowers, and places his palms flat on the table.
“So. . .” Taking a deep breath, he rubs his hands together. “Christ, this is harder than I was expecting.”
I’m about to reply when a door to the side of us swings open and out rushes a lady—her cheeks all pink and flustered, and there’s a swipe of flour across her forehead. Her apron is covered in dough marks.
“Alex! Oh, I’m glad you popped in. Can we talk about this gingerbread house competition you want? We’re running out of time.”
My ears prick. Alex shifts in his chair again, his eyes darting to mine, then back to the lady.
“Claudia, hello. . . can I introduce you to Haven, my, uh. . .” He freezes, and I can see his brain ticking over, because what am I? His friend? His one-time lover? His baby mama?
Guess it’s something else to add to the list of things we need to talk about.
Saving him and myself from any embarrassment, Iwave my hand and say, “I’m Haven, from America.”
Claudia’s face lights up with a smile. “Ah, America, friends with Holiday, are you?”
I shake my head. That’s the second time I’ve been asked. Do Brits think all Americans know each other?
“No, no. We’re not.”
“Shame. Lovely girl,” she barks and turns back to Alex. “Well? I sent you the prototypes. I just need you to approve them.”
When I turn back to Alex, I’m certain his cheeks are a little pinker than they were when he first sat down. He also looks much more uncomfortable, almost squirming in his chair under Claudia’s glare while she waits for his answer.
The more uncomfortable he looks, the wider my smile grows.
One thing Aspen is famous for at Christmas is the gingerbread competition held in the bakery where I worked last year.
Alex won it by making a model of my Christmas tree store—Wylder Trees. The detail was incredible, down to the swinging sign above the door and the wreath hanging on the front. It was the nicest thing anyone has ever given me, and I kept that gingerbread house for months.
Only when it started to disintegrate did I finally throw it away, and truthfully, it wasn’t that long ago.
“Yes, I will. Sorry, Claudia. It’s my next priority. I’ll make sure I check them this week.”
“Thank you, Alex,” she replies with an exasperated little huff. “This competition was your idea, you know. So if you’ve changed your mind, we don’t have to do it.”
“I haven’t changed my mind. We’ll go ahead.”
“Okay, good, good.” And with a quick nod to both of us, she exits through the door she came in through. At the same time, our drinks arrive, along with what seems to be the entire counter of baked goods.
Waiting until Alex has rearranged the plates and cups to make room, I raise an eyebrow. “Gingerbread house competition?”
He shrugs and casually sips his coffee. “What can I say? You made an impression.”
I feel Everly stirring and rub along her back. “I think you were the one who made the impression.”
Alex watches me with quiet curiosity. “Is she sleeping?”
I peer down at her, still snuggled in the harness. Her eyes are flickering, like they do when she’s starting to wake.
“Not quite, we might be on borrowed time.”
“What happens when she wakes up?”
