The Little Bakery of Hopes and Dreams

by Kellie Hailes

  Job done.

  She hit send, and the phone vibrated seconds later with a message from Margo.

  Job just beginning.

  Of course it was. One small step didn’t make an entire journey.

  Josie had seen her father take cautious steps, at her insistence, towards embracing their new life after her mother left, only to retreat time and time again. Not only backing away from his friends, the things he loved doing, but withdrawing from her, becoming an emotionless guardian rather than a loving, engaged father. Their weekly trip to the cinema lost to sudden ‘headaches’. Plans to go on holiday put on hold due to ‘urgent work’. Josie had believed his excuses at first, but the older she got the more obvious the truth became. Her father wanted nothing to do with her, with anyone. He just wanted his wife back. His old life back. Nothing else, no one else, would ever be good enough. Including her.

  Josie shoved the mobile back into her pocket and waved to the group, then to Brendon, before following Callan out into the frigid night air. She focused on her feet as they traipsed up the road, not wanting Callan to see the emotion that had surfaced, that blurred her vision. She swallowed hard, pushed away the pain.

  ‘Never. Gets. Easier.’ Callan puffed the words out in time to his steps as they tackled the lane’s incline.

  ‘Well, that’s life, isn’t it?’ Josie exhaled extra hard as she realised he was talking about the slope, not pain, or grief, or life. ‘I mean, if you don’t exercise or push yourself a little harder every time you walk up this road, then it’s never going to get easier, is it?’ She gritted her teeth into a smile and met Callan’s narrowed gaze.

  No way did he believe she was talking about walking up the slope. And no way was she opening up to a man she barely knew. It was one thing to be honest about her feelings surrounding Christmas, but it was another to explain the family dynamics that had led her to those feelings. That had led her to keeping people at an arm’s length. Friendly, polite, even warm at times – but never so close that she could hurt anyone when she left. That she could be hurt if they left.

  ‘If that’s your way of trying to get me to join an exercise class or a social jogging group, you’re out of luck. You and Margo can conspire all you like to make me more active in the community, but running after a 4-year-old is exercise enough. I’ll stick to darts at the pub.’

  He was letting her off the hook. Keeping things easy. If she hadn’t already hugged him once that night, Josie would have done it again.

  Except she wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

  Not when microscopic butterflies had soared through her veins the moment their bodies had pressed together back at the pub, invading her heart with tiny wings that beat a billion times a second.

  An unexpected reaction from her body, and not an unpleasant one. But one she knew she had to ignore.

  ‘Well, here’s home.’ Callan stopped outside the bakery and pulled out his keys. ‘Better get inside before I turn into a pumpkin.’ He went to insert the key in the lock, then paused, the key hovering in the air. ‘I should probably walk you home. Sorry, so rude of me. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this.’

  Josie shrugged, and tried not to think about how he’d just made it sound like they’d gone out on a date, which they most certainly hadn’t. Falling for the boss? Bad idea. Falling for someone you’d only end up leaving? Worse idea.

  ‘You’re fine. You go in. Relieve Margo from her babysitting duties. I can look after myself, which means I can walk myself home. I get the feeling it’s pretty safe around these parts.’

  Callan’s eyes glittered, every bit as bright as the stars above. ‘Are you sure? If anything happened to you I’d feel terrible.’

  ‘Nothing will. Thank you for a good night.’

  ‘No, thank you. I had fun. The most I’ve had in a long time.’

  Callan moved forward, his hand reaching towards her hip, his head angling as if he were about to kiss her goodnight on the cheek, then jerked back, shaking his head and blinking.

  ‘Right, well, night.’ He turned his back on her and in seconds was gone. The only proof he’d been standing so close was the lingering scent of his musky, warm aftershave.

  Josie sighed and began the trek to her cottage, torn between wondering what a kiss on the cheek from Callan would have felt like, and grateful he’d had second thoughts. That he must have realised any touch, no matter how innocent, would be a bad idea.

  For both of them.

  Callan was out of bounds. Josie had her own boundaries. And no amount of curiosity was worth risking what could happen if those lines were crossed.

  Chapter 8

  ‘Too. Much. Wine.’ Lauren lowered her head onto the table and moaned. ‘Why didn’t you stop me, Josie? We’re meant to be friends.’

  Josie laughed as she placed a pot of tea and a cup and saucer in front of a groaning Lauren. ‘We’ve known each other for all of five days. That hardly puts me in a position where I can tell you when you’ve had enough.’

  Lauren pressed her hands together in a plea. ‘Then promise me next time we’re at the pub together that you’ll make me drink water, and that when I think another glass of wine along with a shot of tequila is a great idea, you’ll remind me that I hate having my head feel like someone is sawing their way through my soft matter with the world’s tiniest and bluntest knife.’

  Josie thrust her tongue out at the description. ‘Gross. But okay. I promise I’ll try to stop you, but if you don’t listen it’s not my fault.’

  ‘You’re on.’ Lauren poured her tea, then shovelled three spoonfuls of sugar into it. ‘It was good to see Callan down at the pub again. Twice in one week. You must be really good for him.’

  ‘Good for him?’ Josie crossed her arms over her chest, as discomfort squirmed in her stomach.

  ‘Yeah, you two seem to really like each other, and it’s great to see Callan smile again. It had been too long. Will and I had begun to wonder if he ever would again.’

  Is that what the word was down at the pub? That she and Callan were potentially an item? The discomfort in her gut made its way into her heart, hitting the accelerate pedal en route.

  ‘You’ve got it wrong.’ Josie had to shut the gossip down. Now. If Callan got wind of it, he’d never leave the house again. ‘We do like each other, I guess. But only as friends. That’s all. Not even that, really. He’s just been spending time with me at Margo’s insistence.’

  ‘Do I hear my name being taken in vain?’

  Josie spun round to see Margo at the entrance to the shop with a pleased smile on her face and a sprig of mistletoe tied with string in one hand.

  ‘Margo. You scared the heck out of me. We really need to put a bell or a chime of some sort on that door.’ Josie shook her head. ‘I’m lucky hearts can’t burst out of chests, because if they did mine would be on the floor right now.’

  Lauren shuddered. ‘Who’s being gross now? Can we not be so visual when my stomach is in full lurch mode?’

  ‘Too much fun at the pub last night?’ Margo raised a manicured brow.

  ‘Way too much. ’Tis the season, and all that.’ Lauren pulled a seat out for her. ‘I was just telling Josie here how much we’re enjoying seeing her and Callan at the pub. How good she is for him.’

  Margo slipped into the offered seat and presented the mistletoe to Josie. ‘There you go, dear. If you could hang that from the ceiling you’ll be saving me a job. Then after you’ve done that, I’d love a slice of that carrot cake, and a pot of tea, too.’ She leaned forward and addressed Lauren in a conspiratorial manner. ‘Have you tried Josie’s carrot cake? Divine. So moist. And I’m not sure what she does with her cream cheese icing, but it’s unlike any I’ve tried before. I’ve half-convinced myself it’s healthy.’

  Josie set the mistletoe on the counter. ‘You can have the cake, but there’s no way I’m hanging this up. Seeing random people being forced to kiss? Not my cup of tea.’

  ‘Oh, but you’ve no choice, Josie.’ Lauren g
ave a little snort. ‘It’s tradition. All the shops do it. You wouldn’t believe how many couples have formed because of it. Mum reckons I would never have existed if it weren’t for the mistletoe. She kissed Dad in the tinned fruit and veg aisle at the shop, and the rest is history.’

  ‘Is it how you and Will got together?’ Josie grabbed a chair and dragged it to the spot under the ceiling where a random hook was screwed in. ‘And I guess I know why this is here. I’ve been wondering.’

  ‘It was one of Abigail’s favourite traditions. Although I don’t think there was a Christmas tradition she didn’t like. This was her favourite time of the year.’ A fond smile tilted Margo’s lips. ‘And yes, that’s why the hook’s there. Pop her up, and watch the magic happen.’

  ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this,’ muttered Josie as she gave the chair a shake to make sure it was steady before climbing up. ‘Please tell me that’s the last of the traditions. This. The cake-making competition. That’s it.’

  ‘Hardly. The lighting of the Christmas tree is tomorrow tonight, which you must come to. I insist. It’s a huge village event. Everyone will be there.’

  Josie went to beg off going but was interrupted by an excitable Mia.

  ‘Josie! Josie! Josie!’

  Josie struggled to keep her balance as little arms wrapped around her legs in a vice-like cuddle, sending her askew. She pinwheeled her arms and leaned forward in an attempt to regain balance.

  ‘Mia, let go of Josie before she falls over.’

  Callan’s curt tone as he rushed towards the pair sent Mia running from the room, her eyes wide and brimming with tears.

  Too late. The words raced through Josie’s mind as she felt the chair skitter out from beneath her as one leg fell back, the other flying up. This is going to hurt.

  She braced herself, ready for the pain. Ready to brush it off like it was no big deal. Ready to give Mia a cuddle, to assure her that she wasn’t angry and that she loved getting Mia cuddles.

  Except no hard floor rushed to meet her bum. No elbows drove into timber. No bolts of pain raced through her body. Instead she found herself hanging in mid–air, two strong arms, that most definitely did not belong to her, holding her tight – one hooked under her knees, the other curved around her back.

  ‘It’s all right. I’ve got you.’ Callan’s voice was low and calm, the opposite of her racing heart.

  Racing due to being oh-so-close to a painful accident, or because she was pressed up against a firm chest that smelled deliciously manly? A mix of both, Josie decided.

  ‘Look at you being a regular knight in shining armour.’ Margo clapped her hands. ‘I’m impressed. Those are some excellent reflexes you’ve got, Callan.’

  ‘Just got lucky.’ Callan’s cheeks pinked up as he set her down. ‘You okay? You look a little dazed.’

  Josie scrambled for an answer that didn’t involve telling Callan how good he smelled … and felt. ‘Just a touch shocked, to be honest. I thought I’d come a cropper, was waiting for a world of pain, and then … there was none. Thank you.’

  Callan shrugged. ‘It’s no big deal. I’m sure you’d have done the same for me.’

  ‘Had I tried, we’d both have ended up on the floor.’ Josie became aware that his arm was still around her, the palm of his hand resting on the curve of her waist. ‘So, yeah. I’ll get back to it, shall I?’

  She made to move away but was stopped by a hail of ‘no, you don’t’, ‘uh-uh’, ‘stay right there’, from Margo and Lauren.

  Josie twisted around to give them her most growly ‘what are you on?’ glare, but stopped as Callan’s head tipped back and an exasperated groan left his lips.

  ‘You have got to be joking me.’ His eyes closed for a long few seconds, then opened in a glare that zeroed in on the two women who were barely able to contain their laughter. ‘I’m the owner of this establishment and this is not going to happen.’

  ‘Rules are rules, Callan.’ Margo wagged a finger at him. ‘You know that. And they won’t be broken.’

  Josie looked up to see what Callan was seeing. Her stomach plummeted. No wonder he was looking more than a little murderous. In saving her he’d ended up under the mistletoe. With her. Holding her. And now he was going to have to …

  Callan’s head was moving back and forth so furiously it was in danger of becoming unhinged and flying off. ‘I can’t kiss an employee. It would be highly unprofessional.’

  ‘Only if it meant something,’ Margo slung back. ‘If it doesn’t mean anything, what’s there to be concerned about?’

  An unimpressed ‘ugh’ came from Callan. ‘If I could go back in time and convince whoever it was that this tradition was a very bad idea, I would. I’m so sorry, Josie.’

  Until this moment Josie had believed that the concept of knees knocking together was just that – a concept. Yet here hers were, shaking like two saplings in a storm. Not because she wanted to kiss Callan. Not because she was nervous. But because it was just so … wrong. Kissing a recently widowed father of one who also happened to be her boss, and a hot one at that?

  All of it was totally, utterly, embarrassingly, ridiculously, all the adverbs in the world, unacceptable.

  ‘Do we have to? I mean, what’s a broken tradition?’ She gritted her teeth and hoped for a reprieve.

  ‘Bad luck.’ Lauren’s tone turned serious. ‘That’s what happens if you don’t follow the tradition. The last person who chose not to kiss under the mistletoe never found love. Ever. Do you want that to happen to you, Josie? Spend the rest of your life alone, miserable, without someone to keep you warm at night?’

  ‘Sounds pretty much how I spend my life now.’ Josie forced a laugh, hoping it would release the tightness in her stomach. ‘Minus the miserable bit, of course.’

  ‘Well, imagine the life you live with an added dose of miserableness, because that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t kiss. So …’ Lauren leaned forward in her chair and flapped her hands in their direction, egging Callan and Josie on. ‘Sooner it’s done, sooner you don’t have to think about it.’

  Josie turned to Callan. ‘Let’s just get it over and done with, hey?’

  ‘Let’s. So, um, on the count of three?’

  ‘Mature way to do it.’ Josie rolled her eyes, then nodded. ‘On three. Lauren? Can you count us in?’

  Lauren flashed her a thumbs-up. ‘One.’

  Callan craned his neck forward.

  Josie stood on tiptoes in order to meet Callan halfway and found herself staring at his lips.

  Full on top, but not too full. A little pouty in the middle of the bottom lip. And there wasn’t a whisker around them. Just how she preferred a man’s upper lip and chin to look.

  ‘Two.’

  Was it her imagination or was Lauren spending far too much time between numbers. Her throat, constricting more and more with every passing second, was in danger of cutting off air to her brain, especially with those nice lips of Callan’s now puckering out as far as they could go.

  Josie did the same, hoping the less lip area that connected the less odd things would be between them post-kiss. She closed her eyes and forced herself not to screech ‘hurry up’ at Lauren.

  ‘Three.’

  She bounced up on her toes a little more as Callan’s lips crashed down upon hers.

  ‘Ow!’ She took a step back, her hand cupping her lips. She ran her tongue over her teeth to make sure they were still in the right place.

  ‘Josie? Are you all right? I’m so sorry.’ Callan took a step towards her, his hand reaching for her. Concern was etched upon his face.

  She waved him away. ‘I’m fine. Really. Probably shouldn’t have closed my eyes at the end there. Or tried to take the lead, or meet you in the middle, or … whatever it was we just tried to do.’ She clapped her hand more firmly over her mouth, as much to stop herself chattering away as to put pressure on her throbbing lips.

  She whirled around to see Margo and Lauren staring at them, mouths gaping and br
ows quirked.

  ‘Are you happy now? We’ve kissed. Avoided bad luck. If you don’t count our lips ramming into each other hard enough to hurt our teeth. Or my teeth. Callan, how are your teeth?’

  ‘My teeth are fine. Lips still in shock. Humiliation levels are high.’ He reached up and plucked a berry from the heavily laden mistletoe. ‘One kiss down. Could you have found a bunch with a few less berries, Margo?’

  Margo’s cheeks flushed pink. ‘The more, the merrier.’

  ‘Well, not for me. I’ll be avoiding that spot for the rest of the month.’ Callan picked up the chair that Josie had sent flying earlier and pushed it up against a table.

  ‘That makes two of us.’ Josie crossed her arms and wilted against the counter. The adrenaline that had her blood racing, her heart pumping and every sense on high alert, had abated, leaving her nothing but tired. And strangely relieved.

  She’d been far too aware of Callan’s touches. What few they’d shared. The way his hand had felt strong and sure while helping her learn to play darts. The tingling thrill that had rushed through her when they’d hugged. How she’d hated the way he’d dropped his arm that had caught her just now.

  For a split-second she’d dared to wonder if she was falling for her boss, just a little. Post-mistletoe-kiss she knew she had nothing to worry about. There was no spark, no chemistry, no anything. Anything she thought she’d felt before had been imagined, simple as that.

  Speaking of no anything … ‘Where’s Mia?’ Josie hadn’t seen her since her hug had sent her flying off the stool and Mia running from her father’s sharp words. ‘Mia?’

  She rounded the door that led to the kitchen and caught sight of two small feet – shod in bright pink and baby blue canvas shoes with cartoon princesses printed on the sides – poking out from beneath the spare aprons that hung from a hook on the wall.

  Poor thing must’ve thought she was in trouble. Josie’s heart squeezed tight for the wee girl. She had the feeling Callan wasn’t one to use sharp tones on her that often, so to hear them would have given her a huge fright.