Page 24 of Lone Wolf in Lights
Amie returned her smile. “You know you’re always welcome, Willow. I appreciate you too.”
Willow kept her smile in place until Amie left, then let it fade as she looked back at the flyer. She still couldn’t stand it. Damn.
Minutes before seven o’clock, Eli approached Summit Sweets Bakery, the familiar scent of sugar and spice wafting into the brisk Montana air. His heart, a wild drum in his chest, hammered with an intensity that matched the quickening pace of his steps. Willow was already there, her silhouette framed by the quaint shop front, looking every bit as beautiful as always.
“Willow,” he called out.
She turned toward him, and the sight of her eyes brightening upon seeing him sent a jolt through his veins. It was supposed to be a fake date, a ruse, but something about the way she looked at him right now felt disarmingly real.
He took in her soft smile, the subtle shift of her gaze over him and her cheeks pinkened. He’d made an effort today—shower, clean shave and a new pair of jeans paired with a simple T-shirt under his winter jacket that hopefully said casual but cared enough to try. Her eyes lingered just a moment too long, betraying the lines of their pretense.
“Shall we?” She gestured toward the bakery door.
“Lead the way,” he said, opening the door for her.
Inside Summit Sweets, the air hummed with energy—a hive of women and men sharing laughter. The scent of gingerbread and frosting mingled in the air.
Eli’s gaze caught on a familiar face who he knew from around town, and Amie waved them forward. “Hi, guys!”
“Hey,” Eli said.
Beside Amie, a woman with light blue eyes and long dark hair stepped forward. “This is Jillian,” Amie introduced.
“Jillian Summers, right?” Eli asked.
“Guilty,” Jillian admitted, a mischievous glint playing in her eyes. “Eli Cole, lab partner for twelfth grade chemistry.”
“That’s right,” he said. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too,” Jillian smiled.
“Good evening,” a woman suddenly called, silencing the crowd. “Please find yourself a spot at one of the tables and we’ll get started.”
“We’ve got this in the bag,” Amie said to Jillian, who laughed following her toward the one free table that had two gingerbread stations set up.
“Ready?” Eli asked Willow.
“Let’s do this,” Willow said with a grin, moving toward the table.
The timer was set, an hour and a half, to create a gingerbread house. Eli’s hands, more accustomed to the roughness of ropes and reins, fumbled with the delicate pieces of gingerbread. The walls of the miniature house leaned precariously, threatening to collapse at any moment. He let out a chuckle, shaking his head at how terrible he was at this.
“Here, let me help.” Willow’s voice was soft against the backdrop of festive chatter. Her fingers brushed against his as she steadied a wall, her touch light but electric.
“Guess I’m better with horses than baked goods,” he admitted, his voice low and tinged with laughter.
The corner of her mouth twitched upward, that hint of a smile like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Everyone has their strengths,” she countered, guiding his hand to pipe a line of frosting along the edge. “But you’re doing just fine.”
From the corner of his eye, Eli caught Amie and Jillian watching them. The two women exchanged knowing looks, their smiles soft.
“Looks like you’ve got quite the team here,” Jillian commented, her voice carrying over the bakery.
“Teamwork makes the dream work,” Amie chimed in, her gaze still fixed on Eli and Willow.
“Or at least a gingerbread house that stands up straight,” Willow added, her laughter mingling with Eli’s as the final piece slotted into place, the house finally structurally sound.
Minutes turned into an hour, and soon the plain house morphed into gingerbread perfection, as Eli watched Willow add a decorative touch to their gingerbread house—a tiny icing-covered hoof print above the door.
“Perfect,” he said.
