Page 50 of Mistletoe Latte

“Which is stupid because these are amazing.”

“Really?”

“I love the surface area ratio with enough spongy interior to give a blast of…cinnamon.”

“And a touch of ginger,” Nick said, growing cockier with his cooking.

“Ooh, you know what these need?” Emma leaped off the boxes and bent over to tug out a jar. She dropped it to the counter, her smile widening. “Honey butter.”

“That’s a great idea. I could have used you at basic training.”

“I don’t know about that.” Her joyful stirs of the spoon to blend in the honey stilled. “I hate being shouted at.”

Nick wanted to point out how everyone hated that, but from how low her chin had fallen and the nervous scratching of her leg, a tiny part of his brain told him this was serious. “Tell you what.” He dropped another crepe onto her plate and caught her eye. “You do the recipe making and I’ll take the yelling.”

“Deal.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“THAT WAS DELICIOUS,” Emma exclaimed. They sat in the cafe, all the chairs turned up except for theirs. The snow dampened the sounds of traffic, and the night darkened the air so the entire world vanished. Only the flicker of the Christmas lights and the nostalgic carols broke through their romantic solitude.

“It’s all thanks to your butter idea,” Nick said. He swept the last of his skinny pancake through the melted butter and sticky honey before popping it in his mouth and smiling. He’d left his sleeves rolled up, his naked forearms resting on the table. Emma bounced her fingertips on the table, trying to distract herself so she didn’t run her nails up his arms.

Blushing at the thought, she slipped back and picked up her notebook. “Your fat crepes were the real star. And the scrambled eggs with half and half. Genius.”

Nick shrugged and looked pleased with himself. He leaned back in his chair and stretched. Emma piled up her plates with one hand and jotted down another idea with the other.Cinnamon bun crepes. Either crepes rolled in cinnamon filling and topped with icing, or cinnamon bun dough rolled in crepes. Have to think.

“What’s that?”

On instinct, she cupped a protective hand over her notebook. “It’s my…my recipe ideas. Whenever inspiration strikes, I jot it down, then try to figure out how to make it work.”

“Can I see?”

Emma thumbed the edge, her heart pounding. This was more precious than a diary, revealing all of her failures and limited successes. Slowly, she placed it in Nick’s hand and girded herself for mocking.

He drew a finger down the pages, humming and nodding along before turning back. “Mistletoe desserts? Trying to steal my idea?”

“No!” she gasped, before catching a small twinkle in his eye. “You inspired me.” Emma rose from her chair to lean closer and point at the ramshackle list. “The idea of a mistletoe theme for an entire dessert tray seemed like a fun challenge.” It sounded stupid the moment she said it. Emma glanced up and realized she was nearly pressing her forehead to his.

Nick kept reading, unaware that she was staring in wonder at his thick eyelashes and the peek of blue below. The curve of his cheeks became rough from the rising beard and called for her hand. And his lips…instead of the flat scowl, they were lifted, revealing the sculpted cupid’s bow.

“Mistletoe trifle, mistletoe cheesecake, mistletoe tiramisu. You’ve covered a lot of bases. There’s just one problem.”

He looked up, and she nearly jerked back, but the roughly hewn charm radiating off of him shook away her panic. Nick reached over the table and swept his palm against the back of her hand. “How can you do a dessert take on something you’ve never tried?”

“Well, I’m not…” The hand around hers closed and he stood. Emma followed without pause as Nick guided her behind the counter.

He flipped the button on the machine and hunted under the counter for various syrups. “Hm. I can almost make a mistletoe latte again, but it’ll be missing a secret ingredient.”

Emma laughed. “Good. That way I won’t have to worry about…”

Abandoning the stock of bottles, Nick looked at her. “About what?”

Falling in love.

She gulped and worried the hem of her sweater as she lost herself in his eyes. “Accidentally copying it. I don’t want to steal a recipe, even by mistake.”

He laughed hard and returned to gathering his material. Suddenly, he looked over his shoulder at her. “If that’s your worry.” Nick picked up a clean towel and folded it lengthwise, then again. He took a step closer. Emma was pinned between him and the counter. Her heart flitted in her chest as he reached up and slid off her hat.

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