Page 50 of The Holiday Swap

She laughed, then put her hand on his arm. “Please, join me? I’d really like it.” He shrugged and grinned and she realized with gratification that this was what he had been hoping for. He wanted to spend time with her just as much as she wanted to spend time with him.

She set Charlie’s small table with place mats, cutlery, and a candle.

“I’m afraid I don’t have anything stronger than sparkling water,” she said, emerging from the fridge with the bottle in her hand.

“That’s okay, it’s a work night,” he said.

“Yeah. For me, too.” She put two plates down and he started opening containers. A delicious aroma filled the space.

“What’s this one?”

“Fabrizio’spasta alla chitarrawith mackerel ragù. He only makes it in December, when he can get the mackerel at its freshest. He’s a perfectionist, as you may have noticed. It’s incredible, so I had to get it for you. Once in a lifetime experience. A must-try.”

Cass smiled. She loved that he cared about food as much as she did. Together, they opened containers and put them on the table, Miguel explaining what each one was as they did.

There were wild boar meatballs in a fresh marinara sauce (“He grows the tomatoes in his own little hothouse behind the restaurant”) and tagliatelle with black truffle sauce (“The wild boars are the ones whoactually digfor the truffles...”). The grilled octopus was simply prepared with salt, pepper, and olive oil (“He boils it with wine corks to give it the most delicate flavor possible, and insists the corks come from his best wine only”), as was the salad she had so enjoyed the last time they were there, too. As they ate and chatted about the ingredients and flavors, she marveled at how comfortable she felt with Miguel, how natural all this felt.

She was stuffed and happy when they made it to the desserts. Fabrizio had sent mini Cassata Sicilianas, which were sponge cakes moistened with fruit juices and liqueurs, layered with sweet, creamy ricotta and studded with candied fruit that reminded her of Starlight Bread. There were also babas—small yeast cakes saturated in syrup and rum and filled with cream. Cass took a heavenly bite of the rum cake, then stared down at her plate, lost in thought as the happiness gave way to a bittersweet sense of melancholy she wished would go away.

“Everyone has a different reaction to the desserts at Fabrizio’s,” Miguel said, watching her. “But I’ve never seen anyone look quite so sad.”

She shook her head. “I promise you, I’m happy. I’m just thinking about how much work I still have to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I test run the recipes for the next day’s show every night at home, just to make sure there are no kinks. And I still have to do that.”

“Which means...” Miguel said, standing and beginning toclear plates. “That I should wash up and get out of here, so you aren’t up all night.”

“Wait,” Cass said, not ready for their night together to be over yet. “It’s nice having the company. And besides, you inspire me.” As soon as the words were out, she wanted to take them back—not because they weren’t true, but because theywere. She had told herself that she had to start reining in things with Miguel, that it wasn’t fair to him and it certainly wasn’t going to be fair to her sister to have to deal with this when she returned to L.A.

But that was before he had come to her door with dinner and turned a good day into a great one. That was before she had seen his handsome face again and realized how much she had missed him, even after just one day. “Any chance you’d like to stick around and be my assistant?”

The grin on Miguel’s face was a perfect reward. “I’d love that,” he said. “What’s on the menu?”

She picked up her phone and opened the recipe file. “Well, my sis—I mean, I have a sugarplum layer cake planned for tomorrow. But I was thinking maybe I could add one more element, just to give it some pizzazz and definitely outshine Austin’s recipe. This Cassata Siciliana gave me an idea, actually. The flavors remind me of one of our most important creations at the bakery my family runs in Starlight Peak.” As she explained Starlight Bread to Miguel, his eyes danced.

“I’d love to experience a Starlight Peak Christmas Eve,” he said. “That bread sounds amazing. The whole place sounds amazing.”

She held his gaze. “It really is,” she said, imagining Miguel in her hometown. “I’d love that, too.” She turned away and focused on gathering the ingredients she needed for the recipe, trying to ignorethe lump that had formed in her throat. “I just need to figure out how to add the elements of Starlight Bread into this recipe...”

While Miguel cleared and washed the plates, Cass took small bites of the dessert and jotted down notes. She was beginning to think what the sugarplum cake needed was an ice cream layer in addition to the icing layer, redolent with the flavors that made Starlight Bread such a hit: cherry, citrus, and spice. Adding an ice cream layer would make it a challenge for the contestants—but ice cream was a lot easier to set than gelée, meaning there would be no repeat of the Aperol Spritz cupcake disaster.

Two hours later, it was completely dark outside, the candles were beginning to burn into nubs, and the sugarplum layer cake was perfect—especially with an ice cream layer for an added twist. Miguel had been taking notes for her, and now his writing and hers combined on a piece of paper on the counter. “I love how festive it’s going to look,” Cass said, setting out red and green candied fruit to layer on top of the icing. The kitchen counters were littered with ingredients, measuring spoons, pans, and several sheets of recipe notes.

Cass stared down at the cakes, thoughtful. “I have an idea,” she said. “A final touch. A vanilla and cinnamon coffee cream topping drizzled on the plate. My assistant at the bakery in Starlight Peak adds vanilla and cinnamon to our coffee sometimes, and it’s just the perfect flavor combination.” Her heart rate ticked up as she realized what she’d just said. “I mean, when I help out there. Over the holidays. We have an assistant named Walter.”

Miguel simply nodded, not realizing the mistake she had made.

“I know I have some more cream in the fridge, and I definitely have coffee.” Flustered now, she poured the cream into a bowl,added the vanilla and cinnamon, and turned on the coffee grinder to fine grind some espresso beans. Then she plugged the hand-blender into an outlet beside the stove and turned it on. There was a loud zapping sound, and then all the lights went out. Now, Cass and Miguel were illuminated only by the candle still burning low on the kitchen table.

“Uh-oh, you have one of those finicky outlets,” Miguel said. “Same in my place. Seems to be a typical flaw in these vintage apartment buildings. Where’s your fuse box?”

“Oh! The fuse box. Right.” Luckily, Miguel seemed to mistake her confusion for something else. He stepped toward her and looked at her in the flickering candlelight.

“Maybe there’s no rush right this second,” he said. “You’re so beautiful in candlelight, Charlie. I mean, you’re beautiful all the time, but especially right now.”

Cass’s cheeks grew warm and her heart rate accelerated to warp speed, the way it always seemed to do when she was with Miguel. She reached for him and they shared a gentle kiss in the semidarkness. After the kiss, Cass rested her head against his chest. She could feel his heart beating beneath her cheek and wished they could stay like this forever. But it was getting late; he had to work the next day, and so did she. Reluctantly, she pulled away.

---