Page 31 of The Holiday Swap

Charlie cleared her throat and took a small step back. Jake’s hands dropped from her waist. He touched his lips—where hers had been only a moment before—with his thumb.

“I know you have a shift tonight, but can I make you dinner? Tomorrow night?” What was she doing? Also, she couldn’t figure out if she was more worried he’d say “yes,” or that he’d decline the offer. “As a thank-you for saving Gateau?”

Jake waited a beat before answering, then, “I’d really like that.”

“Good,” Charlie murmured, still clinging to Gateau, who was now squirming to break free. “How’s seven?”

“Seven is good,” Jake replied. “But I get to be your sous chef, okay? I’m no slouch in the kitchen. At least that’s what they tell me at the firehouse.”

“Sous chef it is.”

“Well, then. It’s a date.” Charlie liked the way Jake smiled shyly as he said it. She knew she needed to find a way to tell Jake she wasn’t Cass, but that was a problem she didn’t need to solve tonight.

9

Cass

Friday: 8 Days Until Christmas...

Los Angeles

As Cass spun in front of her sister’s full-length mirror, evaluating her choice of lavender sundress and denim jacket she’d found in Charlie’s closet, she knew she wasn’t as done up as Charlie would have been for a date, but she looked pretty good. And then she stopped, staring at her reflection as she realized this was her first-ever first date.

She and Brett had just drifted into becoming a couple. And sure, as they’d gotten older, they had begun to go on actual dates, but there had never been a moment like this. It was brand-new to Cass, and it made her instantly nervous.

She added a pair of buttery leather flat sandals to her outfit andconfronted herself in the mirror again. Maybe it wasn’t a date. Maybe Miguel had only been trying to be friendly when he’d asked her out. He had said it was a thank-you for the tickets. Maybe that’s all it was—his way of showing his gratitude.

Cass couldn’t decide if that made her feel better—she wouldn’t be complicating Charlie’s life in an unnecessary way if itwasn’ta date—or worse.Stop overthinking this. Just get yourself to the damn restaurant.

She walked out into the mild Santa Monica night, marveling at the idea that just a few hours away her hometown was buried in snow. She took out her phone and checked reflexively for a reply from Charlie. She had managed to get through to the bakery’s landline earlier: Walter had answered and told her that “Cass” was outside dealing with the flour delivery but that he’d deliver the message that “Charlie” needed a call back. Cass had longed to ask him how things were going at the bakery—but he had sounded busy and she could hear customers in the background.

Crossing the street, she walked half a block until she saw the soft light from the bistro’s windows spilling out onto the sidewalk. A hand-painted sign readFABRIZIO’S. She hesitated, her nerves awakening. Then she took a breath, smoothed a hand over her sleek ponytail, and walked into the restaurant.

“Hi, I’m Ca—Charlie Goodwin. Here to meet Miguel Rodriguez.”

The man at the door grinned. “Ah, yes, Miguel. Right over here. Follow me, Miss Goodwin, and welcome to Fabrizio’s. It is a true honor to have you here.”

Miguel was waiting for her at a table tucked away in the back. He smiled as soon as he saw her and stood, then pulled her chair out for her. “Thanks, Fabrizio,” he said.

Cass thanked him, too, and sat down. Fabrizio moved to the side of the table and smiled, wide and charming. “This is so wonderful!”

Miguel gave Cass a look bordering on embarrassment, then smiled. “Fabrizio, maybe you can give us a minute?”

“Ah, but I’m so excited that you are here with a beautiful dinner guest, when usually you are here alone, or with your sister. I was starting to worry about you, my friend. Poor Miguel, will he be alone for life with only his work and his surfboard for company? And all those baking cookbooks? But now you show up with a beautiful date. And not just any date, butthe Charlie Goodwin.” He turned to Cass, who was blushing with the flattery—but also feeling guilty because it wasn’t directed at her at all.

“My pastry chef is working on a special dessert just for you,” Fabrizio continued. “We have a long time before we can get to that. So, first, anaperitivo? Negronis! And, if you’ll indulge me, I have a special plan for the menu. So, I can take these, okay?” He removed the menus from the table with a flourish and walked off without giving Cass or Miguel a chance to respond.

“Sorry about that,” Miguel said when he was gone. “This is why I don’t usually bring dates here—some people like to decide on their own meals. But it’s my favorite restaurant, and he’s right—you takethe Charlie Goodwinout”—he raised an eyebrow and she felt her bush deepen—“you need to make sure she’s served the best food in town.”

“After the day I’ve had, I’m happy not to have to make any more food-related decisions at all,” Cass said with a smile.

A bartender delivered their ruby-hued drinks. Miguel leaned in and clinked his glass against hers. “What happened on set today?”

“Well, on the bright side, I kept Austin from stealing my recipetoday. On the not-so-bright side, I’m still having trouble getting the hang of things. I’m always flubbing my lines, and Austin is always lording it over me...” She took in his befuddled expression and let her words trail away.

“What do you mean, ‘getting the hang of things’?”

“Having a studio audience,” she said quickly. “It’s throwing me off. I’m not used to having to interact with Austin, my confection, and an audience.”

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