by Olivia Miles
Molly looked flustered as she set a plate of hash browns on the table. “Oh, well, and Kara’s new shop, of course. Let’s not forget that.”
“Well, Christmas is still a bit more than a week away,” Rosemary said as she finished setting the table. “Perhaps I’ll wake up to a surprise that morning.”
Kara shook her head at Grace, for once happy to be the single girl in the room. Now that Molly was engaged and their mother had a wedding to plan, Kara didn’t have to worry about hurrying up and finding someone or answering these types of questions. Still, a little part of her wouldn’t mind, she supposed.
Crazy talk, she told herself. For years she’d tolerated her mother’s less-than-subtle hints, the little suggestions she made about various eligible men who were never her type. It wasn’t until Kara announced her plan to open the bakery that her mother finally settled down and started looking at her a little differently, too. It felt good to know her mother was proud of her, and even better to know she believed in her, Kara thought, thinking of the cookies she would make for the ballet performance.
“So, Grace,” Rosemary said as they all sat down to eat at the rectangular table centered near the kitchen’s large bay window. The backyard was covered in snow, and Kara took a moment to sip her coffee and enjoy the view of the flocked branches and the bright cardinals that nested in the pine trees, their color a stark contrast against the glistening white. “I suppose your mother is busy as a beaver with her decorations.”
Grace nodded sagely. “Oh, yes. She’s going all-out this year, given the prize.”
“What prize?” Kara asked, her attention immediately pulled from the winter scene. There had never been a monetary prize for winning the Holiday House contest. There was a front-page photo in the town’s newspaper and, of course, some bragging rights that lasted through about mid-January—hardly an incentive to spend her precious time this way, even if it would wipe that smirk off Nate’s handsome face when she beat him fair and square.
“This year marks the twenty-fifth anniversary of Briar Creek’s Holiday House contest,” Grace said. “Henry pulled some strings at the travel magazine where he used to work, and they’re going to run a full article on the winner. My mother is already dreaming of what that could do for her design business,” Grace added with a little shake of her head.
“But that’s not all,” Rosemary said. “This year, the winner gets a ten-thousand-dollar prize, too.”
Kara knew her jaw had slacked. She tried to wrap her head around such a thing. “Paid by who?”
“The tourist bureau!” Luke chimed in. He glanced around at the women, grinning proudly at being able to participate in the conversation.
“It’s a big driver for the town,” Grace agreed. “It’s fun for everyone, but ultimately, we all benefit, regardless of the winner.”
“Still. To win…” Kara took a sip of her coffee, her mind racing. She’d spent every last dime of her inheritance between the build-out of the shop and initial supplies. She’d had nothing to her name by way of savings before she opened—a string of minimum-wage jobs over of the years hadn’t amounted to much. The pressure to turn a profit was huge, and a cushion like this would be… very helpful, to say the least.
“To win would be fun.” Grace laughed. “I suppose I should just come out and admit that I managed to convince Luke to enter.”
Rosemary gave her son a stern look. “And I thought there were no announcements today?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I think there’s only one announcement you’re waiting for, and you’re just going to have to keep waiting.”
“Oh, you know I’m just teasing. Though I suppose if you hold out much longer, I may just have to ask Brett about volunteering to hold babies in the hospital nursery…” Rosemary pressed her ruby-painted lips together and stirred some milk into her coffee.
Kara blinked down at her plate of food, remembering the glint in Nate’s eyes, the way his banter turned edgy, from defensive to offensive, almost. Imagine, a holiday house made out of gingerbread! It was preposterous, it was ridiculous. It was… genius. After all, what said Christmas better than a gingerbread house? And what said Christmas better than… home?
Kara eyed her father’s armchair, contemplating her decision. She’d have to get started soon if she intended to enter. Because one thing was more certain than ever: If she was going to enter, she was in it to win it. Not just because of the money, but because she’d love to see the look on Nate’s face when she showed him what she was made of.
Besides, in her book, the man always treated on the first date.
A date. That was what he’d implied, hadn’t he? He’d been caught up in the moment, in the heat of her body, so close to his, in the soft melody of her laugh and the proximity of those soft ruby lips. Win or lose, they’d agreed to it, but he intended to win. There was no chance in hell he was going to let this contest go to anyone other than his aunt.
Nate glanced out the window of the library, which was positioned at the far end of the house, its side windows looking out onto Main Street. If he craned his neck, he could almost see Sugar and Spice’s awning blowing in the wind. He peered through the falling snow, looking for a glimpse of her. She’d be dropping off the cookies for tea soon. He supposed he could keep himself useful, continue with the decorations for this room, which he hoped to finish today, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to see her again. It was quickly becoming a highlight of his visit, and one, he realized with a jolt, he would miss when he went back to Boston.
He checked his watch and decided to risk it. As he’d suspected, his aunt had woken with a new vengeance this morning, handing over a detailed list she called her “action plan,” and it started with this library. He’d already wrapped each window in pine garland, but he had a box of knickknacks to get through before it would pass her inspection, and he didn’t dare disappoint.
He picked another ornament from the box and set it on a side table. It had been years since he’d decorated a tree—he didn’t bother with one in his apartment, and his parents set theirs up on their own. When he was a kid, he loved getting out the dusty box and combing through its contents, content to spend an afternoon hanging each hook on just the right branch, hoping that Santa would reward the effort with a new bike or skateboard. But the bike never came. Or the skateboard. And eventually, Nate had come to associate a feeling of dread when he saw that box come out of the closet. For some, it was a season of cheer. For others… stress.
But for Maggie it was a season of cheer, and for that reason, Nate told himself firmly, he’d put his head down and push through. He was a grown man, after all, and Christmas had long since stopped having so much meaning pinned to it.
He took care with each task, finding a strange sense of enjoyment in it. He’d always enjoyed working with his hands as a kid, finding it therapeutic, even finding some success with it. He frowned for a minute when he thought of those paintings his mother still kept throughout the apartment, long after he’d told her to take them down. They were from another place and another time. But she loved them, and he never could deprive her of something that made her smile.
It was almost noon by the time he’d finished in the library. Guests were gathered in the lobby, bundled warm for snowshoeing, some returning with shopping bags. Many were getting ready to check out, their weekend getaway over, the drive home looming before them along with the start of the workweek. Normally he looked forward to Monday, even though Sundays were hardly a day of rest. Hard work suited him, gave him a purpose, something to strive for. Made him feel in control.
He realized with a start that he hadn’t bothered to charge his cell phone since it had run out of juice last night. No doubt emails were pouring in—work didn’t stop for him on weekends or days off. He supposed he’d have to check in eventually. But today, he had to admit he was looking forward to the promise of a quiet week in Briar Creek, without the rush of energy he felt back in the city. Each day that he was away from it, hi
s anxiety lessened, as did the fear that it would all go away if he took a step back.
His life would never be like the one he’d come from. He’d made damn sure of that.
Casually, he walked to the front window just in time to see Kara coming down the sidewalk, holding a white box no doubt filled with those delicious snowflake cookies, the pom-pom on her hat wiggling in the wind. Her eyes darted to the house and she stopped at the base of the front path, pulling in a sigh that rolled through her shoulders, before finally approaching.
Nate pulled back from the window. His aunt was busy prepping croissant dough for tomorrow morning’s breakfast. Kara could just put the cookies on the dining room console as she’d done before, but what fun would that be?
He wanted to see her, he realized. He wanted to talk with her. Wanted to know her. Wanted to believe she was different than all the others he’d known like her before.
He tensed, as he always did when he thought of his past. She was an attractive girl, and he felt a spark between them, but he needed to be wary around her, just in case.
“Hello,” he said, grinning, when she pushed through the door. She looked especially pretty today, with cheeks pink from the cold.
Kara’s eyes widened a notch as she began stomping the snow off her boots. “Here are your cookies,” she said, handing him the box. Her gaze trailed over the big tree in the corner. “I can see you’ve been busy,” she observed.
“That’s just a preview of what’s to come.” Nate resisted the urge to pop the lid on the box and take a taste of one of her creations. He hadn’t yet joined his aunt for the holiday tea, but this afternoon he just might. Roving his gaze over Kara, he said, “Feeling the heat of competition?”
“If I know your aunt, she’s not going to make this easy for me.” Kara shook her head as her eyes darted around the lobby. “I suppose I’d better get back to the bakery and roll up my sleeves.”
Nate’s pulse skipped a beat, and before he could process what he was doing, he reached out and set a hand on her arm. She turned to him, brow knit, mouth lightly parted in question, her lips so plump and her cheeks so pink from being outside, he couldn’t stop staring at her. “Don’t go yet.” He swallowed hard, wondering if he’d overstepped, and realizing he was still holding on to her arm, finally dropped it. “I mean, stay and warm up by the fire for a few minutes at least. You look so cold.” Her blue eyes were bright and clear as they locked with his, and the flush in her cheeks darkened a shade.
She hesitated before her mouth curved slowly. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to stay for a few minutes. It’s one of the coldest days we’ve had so far this year.”
“Just don’t let me catch you scoping out the competition,” Nate joked, feeling his shoulders relax.
Her smile came a little easier. “It wouldn’t change my vision. I know exactly what I have planned.”
“Already?” Nate couldn’t help but admire her tenacity. He settled into an armchair near the fire, just opposite Kara, but still, they were hardly alone. A few guests sat together on the love seat and others at a small table near the front window.
It was better that way, he told himself. There were many reasons not to fall for Kara, the least of which being that he was just passing through town.
“Christmas is only ten days away,” she pointed out. “And the judging is held on Christmas Eve.”
Ten days. And then he’d be back in Boston. On his way into Briar Creek, he was already counting down the hours, but now, the time seemed fleeting and all too brief.
“So it is,” he said. “You like a little healthy competition then?”
“More like I like the sound of the grand prize,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s what made me decide to enter.”
“And here I thought it was my wager,” he said.
“Oh, your wager is still on,” she said. She held his gaze, her cheeks blushing.
Nate smiled. “Good. I could use a home-cooked meal. And trust me, you don’t want anything I’d whip up.”
Kara laughed. “Oh, so now I’ll be cooking the dinner?”
“Why not? You clearly know your way around a kitchen. I can handle the buttons on the microwave. It stops there.”
“Well, there happen to be a few excellent restaurants in town,” she replied. “I’ll make the reservation in your name this afternoon.”
“That confident, are you?” Nate asked evenly.
Kara’s brow pinched slightly and the tone suddenly shifted. He’d hit a nerve, drawing on his earlier suspicions that she might not just be as sure of herself as he’d first thought.
“I’ll do my best,” she said through a smile. “That’s all any of us can do. Still, it would be nice to win. I suppose you’ve heard about the prize money?”
Nate narrowed his eyes. This was a strange comment, coming from her. Still, he shrugged. “I have. My aunt was sure to mention it.”
“Well, it’s exciting. And I’m hoping it will help me get into the Christmas spirit, too.”
“And here I thought you were just bursting with good tidings already,” Nate replied. He eyed her lazily. She was still tucked into her puffy red coat, her hat still resting on her head, but her mittens sat on her lap as she held her hands out toward the fire. They were pink and cold looking, and he had an urge to lean forward and knead each digit through his hands, warm her from the outside in.
“I suppose I haven’t had as much time to enjoy the holidays as I’d like this year.” She glanced wistfully into the dining room. “The holiday tea is always such a treat. I’ll be sad to miss out this year. If only I wasn’t so busy.”
With a resigned smile, she began pulling on her mittens and stood. A knot of disappointment landed square in his gut. She was here and gone all too soon. And all he had to look forward to for the rest of the day was decorating this old house.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” she said, edging toward the door.
Tomorrow. He liked the sound of that.
CHAPTER 9
Even though the bakery was officially closed on Mondays, Kara had gone in just before sunrise to get an early start on her gingerbread house entry for the Holiday House contest. She’d decided to make the house in the shape of her own childhood home, the one where she’d shared so many wonderful Christmas memories with her family, capturing a moment in time when she was the happiest. After closing the shop the day before, she’d drawn the pattern out on parchment paper, and by early morning all the pieces of gingerbread had been baked and cooled. The designs would take the longest, but if she worked steadily on them each day, she was sure she could accomplish what she’d set out to do.
Kara looked at the drawing she’d made and sighed. If only she could go in back time, even just for a day. She’d do anything to wake up on Christmas again with that unmatchable sense of possibility and run into her parents’ bedroom. What wouldn’t she give to sit around the breakfast table in her flannel pajamas, sipping hot cocoa while her father poured coffee and flipped pages in his newspaper? It was so long ago, but somehow, at this time of year, it still felt like yesterday.
Christmas had never been the same since her dad had died. The first few years were the worst, even though their mother tried to make it special for them and not show her sadness. She had The Nutcracker to keep her busy, and now, as an adult, Kara understood why it meant so much to her. It wasn’t just the perfectionist in her, or the proud businesswoman; it was that her annual show was the perfect distraction, the best way to fill a part of her heart that was missing.
Kara smiled at the drawing, knowing she had to capture that moment of pure joy. Children running down the stairs, a tree surrounded by glittering presents, Dad at the table, sipping coffee.
Deciding she could take a break for a few hours, Kara put on her coat, hat, and boots and grabbed her skates from the closet in the small office off the back of the kitchen. The walk to the town square was short, and the sun was shining, casting long shadows on the roof of the whit
e gazebo at its center. Main Street B&B stood proudly at the far end, looking even more stately than usual in its Christmas décor. Kara couldn’t help but look for some subtle changes, something new that might have been added since her visit yesterday, but it would seem all the magic was happening inside, not out… at least so far.
She craned her neck to get a better view of the side of the house when she spotted him, her heart giving a little jump at the image. Nate came around the path, sprinkling salt on the bricks with a large shovel. She hesitated when she saw him, wondering if she should keep going, get to the rink before it filled up, but as she watched him push his shovel into the bag of salt again and continue his work, she had to grin. He was a nice guy, really. And a handsome one, too. That much was undeniable. He had a hard shell, one that wasn’t common in these parts, but under it, she suspected, was a good heart. Not every nephew would give up his Christmas vacation to cater to an eccentric aunt—it was no wonder Mrs. Griffin sang his praises far and wide.
She walked a little closer, cutting to the edge of the green instead of winding left as she would have to get to the skating rink, and waited for a moment to see if he would look up. He seemed to be grumbling something under his breath with each scoop, something about “no good deed,” and Kara couldn’t help but laugh to herself. Mrs. Griffin certainly was putting the poor guy to work.
Looking up, he grinned at her before she’d even had the chance to lift her mittened hand into a wave. “How long have you been standing there?” he asked, resting his hands on the handle of the shovel. It was a small gesture, but the moment he was taking to give her his full attention sent a little flutter through her stomach. It had been a long time since a man had paid such notice, and even longer since one this handsome had done so.
Men like Nate didn’t pop up in life. At least, not often enough.
“Long enough to see that you’re earning your keep.” Kara laughed. “Tell me, do you ever get a break?”
