Page 72 of Mad About Yule

“I’ll take these two.” She opts for a variegated plum version and a bright teal. “My nieces are visiting for Thanksgiving, and I wanted to get them early Christmas gifts.”

“These are perfect.” I ring them up for her, and she slips her credit card into the reader.

“I hear you’re cooking up something special for the Christmas festival this year.”

“We really are. I can’t wait for everyone to see it.” I tuck the hats into a small paper bag and hand it over. “I think you’ll like the Christmas market.”

“And what’s this about a secret project with a certain McBride who just left?”

The arch of her eyebrow is impossible to ignore.

“Oh.” A sound somewhere between a laugh and a cough escapes me. “It’s not exactly a secret…but I think everyone will like that, too. I’m lucky to have Griffin on my team.”

Teammateisn’t remotely how I want to describe Griffin right now, but I can’t possibly say anything more to Mrs. Howell, of all people.

Her eyes twinkle as if I’ve given her everything she needs to know anyway.

“If I were you, I’d cook up something special with him, too. That boy’s a heartthrob.”

I snap my mouth shut at this sweet elderly woman describing Griffin as a heartthrob. Accurate, but still unexpected. She flashes a knowing smile like my silence confirms my agreement, and heads out of the store.

I manage to follow her to the front door and lock it for the night before I notice Wren leaning in the pass-through opening. Gloating movie villains should be jealous of her grin.

“Oh,” I say. “Hi.”

Real smooth.

“Next time you’re going to kiss Griffin in your store, warn me. Half our pies melted over here.”

“Shut up.” After that kiss—and Mrs. Howell’s saucy advice—I can’t come up with a better retort. I go through my closing up routine without looking at her. This is already embarrassing enough, but Wren won’t quit until she multiplies that by a factor of ten.

She joins me at the counter and squeezes a dollop of lavender hand cream into her palm from the tester tube. “I didn’t have the best view from behind the counter, but it seemed pretty hot to me.”

Hotter than a barbecue stuffed into an incinerator dropped into a volcano. That kiss will be the five-star I compare every other kiss to for the rest of my life.

“You don’t have to gloat so hard.”

“You’re right. But please rate his quality of work with a thumbs up or a thumbs down.”

I turn off the overhead light, leaving us in the glow from the bakery’s lights. “You’re a brat, but…two thumbs up.”

More like a hundred thumbs up. That kiss deserves all the thumbs.

“Nice. Happy for you.”

“I’m…happy for me, too.”

Her grin freezes. “Wow. That pause doesn’t support yourhappyclaim.”

“It isn’t that.” I don’t know how to explain it, but Wren is probably the only person I can explain it to. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had feelings like this, and I really didn’t expect Griffin to be the next guy I’d try to date.”

She bounces on the balls of her feet. “I love that you said you have feelings for him, but go on.”

“Remind me again why I love you?” Even though yes, feelings are happening. They’re messier than the string lights I spent days untangling, and I sure don’t want to nail down labels for them right now, but…yeah. Feelings. “It’s just…this is Griffin. We irritated each other all through high school. I used to wish inexplicable, painful accidents on the guy. This is a big shift, isn’t it?”

“For you or for him?”

“Both.”

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