by Jackie Lau
“Tom,” she said, and he could feel her breath on his cheek.
“Right, right.” He scrambled off her and stood.
He helped her up and she gave him a peculiar look, but she didn’t say anything.
It had been a couple of years since he’d gone skating, and this rink was bigger than the outdoor one closest to him in Toronto. A few people said hello as they skated.
At one point, he reached for Julie’s hand and she gave him another look.
“Part of our act,” he said.
“My parents aren’t here.”
“But other people in town might tell your parents that they saw us. Best to be prepared.”
She didn’t call him out on the fact that he simply wanted to hold her hand.
After a few laps, they were herded off the ice for the Zamboni, and several minutes later, they returned to skating.
However, skating around and around in a circle wasn’t something you could do for a long time. Eventually, they took off their skates, and there was still an hour and a half until her parents would let them back in.
Julie insisted they buy hot apple cider from the little stand beside the rink, and that took up another fifteen minutes. He’d be content to sit here in the cold, but Julie probably wouldn’t, so he suggested they go for a walk and she could show him all the sights in town. It wasn’t the picturesque sort of small town you might see in a movie. Sure, there was an old town hall with a rink behind it, but there were no cute stores or anything like that.
“This is the elementary school,” Julie said, though that wasn’t necessary; he could read the sign perfectly well. “Which I attended for nine years. They replaced the playground a while back. I fell off the old one in grade three, when I climbed on top of the tube slide—that’s how I broke my arm, rather than slipping on ice.”
He found himself wanting to know all her childhood stories. She’d thought there was a greenhouse at the North Pole... What else had she believed? What had she enjoyed?
She’s just your fake girlfriend.
Except he wished he could kiss his fake girlfriend.
No. Julie was all wrong for him. Hadn’t they had a miserable time on their first date? But the better he got to know her, the more he liked spending time with her, and—
“Ooh, you know what we should do?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “We should make snow angels.”
“Snow angels,” he repeated.
“You haven’t made snow angels before?”
“Um, no.”
This did not appear to shock her.
She led him to the field behind the school, where she flopped down on her back in the snow and moved her arms and legs back and forth.
He kept thinking about her being underneath him again. Removing his hand from his sensible gray mitten and slipping it under her clothes. Finding the warm skin above the top of her pants...
He hissed out a breath and shut his eyes.
Two seconds later, he was on the ground.
“Did you just push me into the snow?” he asked, sputtering.
“I didn’t think you’d willingly make a snow angel, so I had to make sure you did something other than standing there, fantasizing about folding your underwear.”
“You’re thinking about my underwear. Interesting.” He looked up at the clouds in the sky, then snapped his head toward her. “Wait a second. Are we flirting?”
* * *
Tom sounded outraged by the thought of something as juvenile as flirting.
He was definitely not the kind of guy Julie would date.
But she was starting to see the appeal.
Not because he had a job near the top of her parents’ list of ideal jobs, but because he was so gosh-darn set in his ways, and she wanted to make him lose his composure. That was why she’d tossed him into the snow.
She wanted to make him snap...and kiss her.
At that realization, she inhaled sharply. Yes, she wanted to kiss the guy she’d brought home as the perfect fake boyfriend to meet her parents.
What would he be like if he lost control? Julie couldn’t help wondering.
She looked over at him and realized he was more handsome than she’d thought before. When had that happened?
Was it because of the thoughtful gift he’d given her? Or the dedication with which he’d planned their gingerbread house and trusted her to do the artistic part?
Was it knowing what it was like to have his weight on top of her, after they’d fallen together at the skating rink?
“Yes, we’re flirting,” she said lightly. “Surely you know what flirting is.”
He pursed his lips. Lips she wanted to kiss.
He didn’t speak, however.
“Alright,” she said. “Time for you to make your first snow angel.”
He didn’t move.
“Tom!” she said. “I’m trying to inject some fun into your life.”
“My life doesn’t need fun.” He unenthusiastically moved his arms and legs.
“What’s more offensive to you?” she prodded. “The idea of fun? Or flirting?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face.
“You found it interesting that I was thinking about your underwear,” she continued. “Why is that so interesting? Have you wondered about my underwear? Whether it’s lacy? Or plain and practical?”
He made an incoherent noise.
Yes, he was thinking about it, and somehow, that thrilled her.
“I can’t imagine folding my underwear,” she said. “It’s just so itty-bitty that the idea of folding it seems ludicrous. Plus, it’s underwear. No one’s going to see it if it gets wrinkled.”
“Nobody?” That was said in a strangled voice.
“Why would you get to see it? It’s not like you’d be interested in someone who refuses to keep a stain remover pen in her purse.”
His eyes flashed, and an electric current went through her.
“Someone who wears a cute koala hat,” she went on. “And reindeer mittens. And wants to knit you a pink and purple scarf—”
And then he was on top of her, pressing her into the snow, his lips on hers before she could mention her love for reality TV.
Tom’s kiss was not restrained at all, just as she’d hoped. It was wild and greedy and oh-so-right. Although this was exactly what she’d wanted, it still surprised her, and it took her a second to respond.
But respond she did.
He tasted of apple cider and snow.
Wait—how did that make sense?
Nothing about the two of them made sense, yet here they were, kissing instead of making snow angels. When he bit her bottom lip and slid his tongue into her mouth, she moaned.
“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” His voice was husky now. Almost cocky.
Then he was back to kissing her, his warm mouth a delicious contrast to the cold air. He tugged off a mitten and slid his hand under her jacket. He made a noise of frustration, then groaned when he finally found her skin.
His hand was warm, too. How was it so warm?
He rocked his hips into hers as he kissed her and touched her, showing her what it would be like if they had sexual relations. She could—just barely—feel his hardening cock through all their winter clothing, and oh God, she wanted more.
Earlier, she’d felt bad for his ex-girlfriends, dating such a stick-in-the-mud, but now she wondered how on earth they’d let him go. He was so damn passionate.
He shoved her scarf out of the way as he kissed her throat before making his way downward. If only he could kiss her breasts, suck a nipple into his mouth.
She was shockingly wet now.
Then his hot mouth was back on hers. Lips and tongues meeting, demanding more, and more, and more...
All of a sudden, he rolled off her. She felt his absence keenly.
“Uh,” he said as he put his mitten back on. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Normally, she’d have a saucy retort, but she could
n’t manage to speak. She’d wanted to make him snap, and snap he had. And it had surpassed her expectations.
“It’s okay,” she said, smiling at him, trying not to show how affected she was.
He stood up and extended his hand. She took it, and he pulled her up.
“We should probably head back now,” he said.
“Yeah.” She pointed at the ground. “Your first snow angel was a failure. I can’t even make out the angel’s wings. Doesn’t it bother you to be a failure, Tom?”
Something sparked in his eyes again, and anticipation thrummed through her body. He was going to kiss her, wasn’t he?
But instead, he started walking.
“We don’t want to be late for the gingerbread competition,” he said.
She hurried to catch up with him.
And when she stepped inside her childhood home, she felt like a different woman than the one who’d left.
Chapter 6
This was not how Tom had thought he’d be spending Christmas Day.
“Make the white chocolate ganache for the truffles while I make the royal icing,” Julie said as she set up the stand mixer.
“But that wasn’t in the schedule until—”
“Just do it! The recipe is on my phone. I forgot that the ganache needs to cool in the fridge for a while, and we only have two hours left. Go! Go!”
Dutifully, he got out the white chocolate and the heavy cream.
The first batch of gingerbread was in the oven, and he thought things were going not too badly. Sure, Julie was bossing him around, but he kind of enjoyed it. As long as she mostly kept to his schedule, he wouldn’t complain.
“What are the truffles for?” Bonnie asked. “This is a gingerbread house.”
“I’m being creative,” Julie snapped. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
“What are you doing now?”
“Mom, shut up!”
Tom couldn’t imagine saying “shut up” to his own mother, but Bonnie seemed to take it in stride, and he understood Julie’s frustration.
It was annoying to bake when other people were watching.
He’d hoped her mother and father would get bored of being in the kitchen, but it had yet to happen. Although their presence made him a bit nervous, he tried his best to focus on the task at hand.
And tried not to think about how he’d kissed Julie.
He kept looking at her and bumping into her, though. The kitchen wasn’t huge, and he was always conscious of where she was in it.
Although this wasn’t what he’d expected when Julie had asked him to accompany her to her hometown, to his surprise, he couldn’t say he minded.
What was happening to him? He liked that she’d dragged him into the snow. He liked that she’d goaded him, and he’d kissed her without thinking.
He pulled the pans out of the oven and trimmed the gingerbread pieces to match the templates, as his recipe instructed. Everything needed to be perfect for the house to stay up.
He was particularly pleased with the stained-glass windows. He’d cut window-shaped holes in the gingerbread and added crushed hard candies, which had melted in the oven.
“Those look great,” Julie said.
“What looks great?” Bonnie asked.
“Stop with the questions. We’re busy.”
“In the baking shows I watch, people are always talking to the bakers while they work. It’s not good television if they don’t talk at all.”
“But we’re not on television!”
Tom suppressed a laugh.
“Can I try the gingerbread?” Julie asked him. “The part you trimmed.”
He picked up a thin piece and held it out.
“My hands are a mess,” she said. “Stick it right in my mouth.”
Was she doing this just to bug him?
“Please, mon petit chou-fleur,” she added.
“Why are you talking in French?” Albert asked. “What does it mean?”
“Probably something to do with sex,” Bonnie said.
Tom nearly choked, then composed himself and dropped the small piece of gingerbread in Julie’s mouth. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear afterward, unable to resist touching her.
“Mmm, that’s delicious,” she said. “Good job finding the recipe, mon petit chou-fleur.”
“What are you calling him?” Albert demanded.
Tom put the second batch of gingerbread in the oven and tried not to feel too pleased that Julie liked it. Then he started cleaning the dirty bowls.
“Why are you cleaning?” Julie asked.
“Because I clean as I go.” He didn’t understand people who did otherwise.
“We have less than two hours to make an impressive gingerbread house. We don’t have time.”
Now this was getting out of hand.
He’d let a lot of chaos into his life today. A lot. He was coping reasonably well with it, all things considered.
But a dirty kitchen? That was one step too far.
“I’ll be quick,” he grumbled.
Cleaning did help to soothe his nerves. He was about to put another bowl in the dish rack when Julie said, “Tell me what you think of this color.”
She’d separated the royal icing into three dishes. The large dish contained white icing, but there were two smaller dishes, one with green icing and one with red.
“Does it have to be so bright?” he asked.
“I’ll take that as a sign it’s perfect. What do you think of the consistency? Do I need to add a little water?”
This was why he wished he’d known about the gingerbread competition beforehand. So he could have figured out things—like the consistency of royal icing—when there weren’t three people breathing down his neck.
Though this was kind of exciting, doing something he’d never done before under a strict time limit.
No! What was wrong with him? He didn’t like exciting.
“I think it’s okay,” he mumbled.
Julie shot him a quick smile, and he couldn’t help remembering what it had been like to have his lips on hers. He wished he could kiss her again. Would she taste like gingerbread now?
He was horribly discombobulated.
But at least he had a schedule to adhere to. That did make him feel a bit better.
* * *
“Why isn’t the roof on the gingerbread house yet?” Julie asked. “Come on, we only have forty minutes!”
“I’m waiting for the royal icing on the walls to set so the roof doesn’t collapse,” Tom said. “It would be best if we had longer, but another few minutes should do the trick.”
She decided to trust him. He’d probably done lots of research.
She had to admit they made an excellent team. He was in charge of the construction, and so far, so good. She also had to concede that his schedule had worked. They’d deviated from it in a few places—which, fortunately, hadn’t made him too addled—and were on time now.
His insistence on washing everything as they went was a little annoying. In a normal situation, she agreed. It was best to keep on top of the cleaning. But this was hardly a normal situation.
“I think it’s looking better than Charlotte and Mike’s,” Dad said.
Mom smacked his shoulder. “Don’t say such things in front of the competition.”
Julie couldn’t help a private smile. It was just a gingerbread house, but she was winning against her sister for once.
Or maybe her parents were messing with her. She wouldn’t put it past them.
She looked over at Tom, who was carefully applying royal icing to the tops of the gingerbread walls. He stuck the roof pieces on top and held them there.
It was rather hot to see him concentrating so hard on a gingerbread house.
Given the amount she was thinking about their kiss, it was surprising she was able to function at all, especially in such close proximity to him. She couldn’t stop wanting to wipe that look of concentration off his face...or watch him co
ncentrate on other things. Like, if he had his head between her legs...
“Can I put the buttercream on the roof now?” she asked.
“Give it a few more minutes,” he said.
“Okay.” Instead, she iced the gingerbread people and the reindeer. The reindeer hadn’t been in the initial plans, but she very much wanted a reindeer. She gave him a red M&M for his nose and used gumdrops for buttons on the two people.
“Don’t you think those buttons are a little big?” Tom looked over at her, the corners of his lips twitching.
OMG. He was teasing her!
She couldn’t help feeling warm inside.
“They’re perfect,” she said.
Finally, he decided the roof was stable. He probably had some kind of special engineering equipment for gingerbread houses in his pocket. And then he—
He was getting out his stain remover pen?
She studied his shirt and noted a small red stain on the sleeve. Red royal icing, she assumed. It matched his Santa tie.
Although it was utterly ridiculous to bake in such an outfit, somehow, it was charming. As was the stain remover pen.
She was sweating now.
She found him charming and incredibly handsome, and she wanted to see him take off that tie and unbutton the top button on his shirt. But that was probably something he’d never do in public.
And the fact that he wouldn’t...yes, she found that cute, too.
Focus, Julie. You’ve got to win this competition.
For some reason, she felt like winning this competition would prove something to her parents and also make everyone believe that she and Tom were a real couple, because they worked so well together.
Don’t forget this is fake...
“You can put the buttercream snow on the roof now,” Tom said.
She brought the piping bag over to the kitchen table. “Get out the ganache and roll the snowballs in shredded coconut.”
“Do you think they’ll finish in time?” Mom asked Dad.
“I don’t know. I think it’s going to be close.”
Julie sighed in frustration, but she wouldn’t let them get to her.
She and Tom were making the best damn gingerbread house that two people who’d never made a gingerbread house before could construct.
Finished with the roof, she quickly piped buttercream on the ground around the house. Tom brought over two snowmen made of truffles. His elbow brushed hers.
