by Olivia Miles
Nate handed her the bowl, noticing a heavy lump of disappointment in his chest as he did so. “Doesn’t Kara usually make the cookies?” He’d hoped his tone had come out casual, conversational, but the pointed look in his aunt’s sharp gaze told him he hadn’t succeeded.
“Unfortunately Kara won’t be making the delivery today,” Maggie told him as she began spooning the batter onto a cookie sheet. She glanced at him sidelong.
Nate pulled in a breath, rolled back on his heels, told himself to fight the urge, to not go there, to not give in. Aw, hell. “Oh? Is something wrong?”
Maggie did a poor job of masking her pleasure. “Oh, she’s just a little under the weather.”
He knew it. She’d been pale yesterday, with a telltale rim of pink around her eyes, and she’d looked tired to the bone, too. He kicked himself, silently chastising his challenge for her to enter the contest. Sure, it would be great to win—for any of them—but the chances of that seemed low if Maggie’s hand-wringing details of Kathleen’s newest ideas said anything. Kara was already spread thin. Too thin to keep that bakery going much longer. And he’d just gone and made it worse.
“That’s too bad. Hopefully she’ll be back tomorrow.” Catching the flash in his aunt’s bright green eyes, he added quickly, “So you don’t have to go through the trouble of making the cookies yourself. You have enough to take care of around here.”
“That I do.” His aunt slid the cookie sheet into the oven and set the timer. “But I enjoy it. It will be a sad day when I have to say goodbye to this place.”
Nate flashed his eyes on her, his pulse skipping a beat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, nothing.” She waved away his concern. “Just getting ahead of myself. This place has been in my family for so long. A lot of good memories here.” Though she smiled, there was a sudden sadness to her eyes.
Nate frowned and reached out a hand to set on the older woman’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for the other night. I was caught off guard, but I reacted too harshly. I want you to know how happy I am to be here.”
His aunt’s smile turned knowing. “I told you this town would grow on you.”
Nate couldn’t argue with her there. But it wasn’t just the town—someone had gotten under his skin, and he was more than a little disappointed that he wouldn’t be seeing her today. He eyed the pot of soup his aunt had simmering on the stove. “I might drop a bowl of this off for Kara, seeing as she’s sick and all,” he added quickly.
“Seeing as she’s sick,” his aunt repeated, her eyes shining.
“I’ll just drop some off at the bakery…” He shrugged, trying to sound casual, but there was no slipping anything past Maggie.
“She lives above the bakery. You can’t miss it. And you’ll want to hurry before it cools.”
Nate grinned as he accepted a plastic container from his aunt. He’d hurry, all right. In fact, he couldn’t wait.
Nate carried the canvas bag containing soup, some fresh bread, and a couple of his aunt’s peppermint scones to the bakery, which boasted a CLOSED sign despite the holiday shoppers who strolled down Main Street, sipping coffees and laden with red and green shopping bags.
He scanned the front of the building, searching for the door that would lead to an upstairs unit, and felt his heart tick when he finally spotted it. The black, paned door was set in an alcove, not very noticeable from the street, and a small intercom above the mailbox listed one name: K. Hastings.
Nate pressed it quickly and waited. It rang twice. By the third time, he began to worry that she wasn’t home, or wouldn’t answer, and the disappointment that landed in his gut confirmed what he already knew. He wanted to see her. Looked forward to seeing her.
And what did that mean for next week, when he went back to Boston?
Nothing, he told himself firmly. Sure, it might take a day to acclimate, to get this town and the people in it out of his system, but he would. His life was busy, and full. And January was going to be busy, just like every year. He was already struggling to keep up with his inbox, and some days here he hadn’t even thought to check it. It wasn’t like him, but it didn’t matter. It was a vacation. One vacation in ten years.
It was easy to get lost in it.
“Hello?” The voice crackled through the speaker, pulling Nate back to the present with a jolt.
He licked his lips and clutched the canvas bag tighter in his grip. “Kara? It’s Nate.”
The pause was so long, Nate had to press his ear against the intercom to see if he’d lost the connection. The exaggerated sound of a sneeze forced him back.
“Hi. Did you… need something? I don’t know if your aunt told you but I’m not making the cookies for tea today.”
Nate smiled. “I know. I didn’t come here to pick them up. I brought something for you instead.” He glanced at the door. “Mind buzzing me in?”
There was another pause, longer this time, and Nate was just beginning to feel that he had overstepped when the door buzzed and clicked. He quickly grabbed the handle and pushed it open. There was a single door visible at the top of the stairs, a simple boxwood wreath gracing its front. And Nate’s heart beat a little faster with every step closer to it.
Holy. Crap.
Kara flung the chenille blanket off her lap and dashed into her small bathroom, whimpering at the sight. Her dark hair was as tangled as a rat’s nest, flat on one side, sticking up in all directions on the other. Her nose was as red as Rudolph’s, and her eyes were watering so much, she looked as if she’d been crying.
Listlessly, she reached for her mascara and then realized there was no point.
She glanced down at her pajamas, the very ones she’d worn last night and never changed out of, and frantically searched for a robe. She found a cashmere turtleneck sweater instead and stuffed it over her head, managing to cover most of the unflattering plaid flannel.
He was already knocking at the door when she reached for a brush, and, unable to even pull it through her hair, she gave up and pulled it back into a haphazard knot.
Hardly her finest moment. The bitter irony that for the first time in God knew how many years a handsome man was knocking on her door and she looked like she had, admittedly, just rolled out of bed was not lost on her.
She stared up at the ceiling. Why? She mouthed. Why?
Closing her eyes, she counted to three and then slowly undid the locks. The door creaked open and there he stood, looking so darn cute it stole her breath for a moment. He was bundled in a scarf, no doubt of his aunt’s choosing from the handmade look of it, but it was the grin he wore that caused her heart to race and her insides to go all mushy.
“I brought you some soup,” he said, holding up the bag.
The man had brought her soup. Kara stared at him, then down to the bag he was holding, and then back into the warm, golden eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. He may as well have said he’d brought her a four-carat diamond ring.
“I… I don’t know what to say.” She blinked as she stepped back to let him in. “I think this is the nicest thing anyone has done for me in a while.”
His grin turned slightly bashful. “Well, I can’t take all the credit. My aunt made the soup. But…” He held up a playful finger. “I run a mean microwave. How about I heat you up a bowl? It’s already gone a bit cold from the walk over here.”
Kara hadn’t been able to summon an appetite since yesterday morning, but the thought of a warm bowl of broth suddenly made her stomach grumble. “I’ll show you the kitchen.”
“No. No, you sit, relax, and I’ll be right back.”
Kara settled on the slipcovered sofa near the front bay window, but relaxing was the furthest thing from her mind as she watched Nate disappear into her kitchen, followed soon by the sound of opening and closing of her cabinets.
She eyed the hallway, wondering if she could dash into her bedroom, maybe throw on something a little sexier, but knew it was no use. She was sick. And the man had brou
ght her soup. She’d roll with it.
Nate carried the steaming bowl into the living room a few minutes later, balancing it on a tray that told her he’d made himself completely at home, considering she kept that on the bottom shelf of her pantry, and set it on the coffee table. She was touched to see that he’d even folded a napkin and set a spoon on top, along with a few slices of what looked like homemade bread.
“This smells delicious,” Kara said, breathing in the rich aroma. “I’m happy to share.”
Nate shook his head, and for a moment, Kara was worried he would leave, that perhaps he’d just been running an errand for his aunt, nothing more, but when he settled himself onto an armchair near the fireplace, she felt a little tingle of excitement rip through her. She reached for the bowl. No reason to get carried away now…
“I’m surprised you don’t have a tree,” Nate remarked, motioning to the completely undecorated living room. “I thought you were just bursting with Christmas spirit.”
Kara laughed, almost spilling her soup all over her flannel pajama pants. “I haven’t gotten around to it, I’m afraid.”
“But Christmas is a week away.”
Their eyes met for a beat, and Kara wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was. That Christmas was a week from today, and after that… life went back to reality. Whatever was blossoming between them would be over.
And the contest would be, too, she thought with a start.
She sighed. “I guess I won’t get around to it this year. No doubt the good ones have all been picked over by now anyway.” She sipped her soup off her spoon and eyed him. “Why? Do you have a tree in your apartment?”
He looked affronted. “Me? God, no.” He shuddered. “No time. No desire, either.”
She set her bowl down and looked at him properly. “Just what is it that you have against Christmas?” She wanted to know once and for all. “Someone break your heart over the holidays?” She was fishing, but she couldn’t help it. The man was a bona fide Grinch, and there had to be a reason. Besides, she couldn’t resist a little more insight into his heart while she had the opportunity.
“Bad memories.” Nate shrugged, but the way his eyes drifted across the room told her he was hiding something.
Deciding he didn’t want to open up just yet, Kara let it drop and resumed eating her soup. It was delicious, with large chunks of carrot and celery and thick noodles. “Well, I love Christmas, even though I do understand the memories part.” She paused, thinking of the gingerbread house downstairs, the hours she was losing by sitting up here, sniffling through a box of tissues. The soup was warming her from the inside out, as was Nate. When he left, she’d try to muster up the energy to work on it a bit. Not that she was in any rush to see Nate leave.
“Christmas has a way of doing that,” Nate mused. “People make too big a deal out of it, if you ask me. It brings out the worst in people. This Holiday House contest is a prime example.”
Kara stared at him. “And here I thought you were starting to enjoy the contest.”
“Oh, I’m always up for a good challenge.” His eyes were intense as they latched on to hers, and Kara felt her breath catch. “But it’s hardly the meaning of Christmas to compete with your neighbors over who has the best decorations.”
“I see it a little differently,” Kara ventured. “It’s a community event, a way to bring people together. Everyone might look like they’re at war over this contest, but deep down, there’s a real sense of camaraderie. It’s fun.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Nate said, giving her a slow grin that made her stomach roll over. She suddenly felt nervous in his company—in a good way. “I was starting to feel a little bad for suggesting it to you.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Suggesting it? From where I stood, you didn’t leave me much of a choice. Not that I’m glad you didn’t.”
“Competitive, are you?”
Kara considered the question as she broke off a piece of the crusty bread. “Not competitive, no. More like… determined. Even though I opened the bakery for myself, part of me feels the need to keep it going to prove the naysayers wrong.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I understand,” he said, and something in the distance in his voice told her that he really did. Why he understood was yet to be determined. She hoped to get to the bottom of it—to know him better.
But why? she asked herself, remembering how Christmas would come all too soon. There was no sense in getting to know Nate; she needed to just enjoy his company and leave it at that.
She stole a glance in his direction, her pulse skipping at the sight of his face. Easier said than done, she realized.
“I’d love to see what you’ve come up with for the contest,” Nate said suddenly.
Kara hesitated. It wasn’t like she worried he would copy her idea—how could he?—but more that she wasn’t sure she was ready to share such a personal part of herself yet. With him. Or with anyone.
“It’s nowhere near finished, and after today, who knows if it will be. I’d hoped to do some baking today, to work on the roof. If I feel better later on, I might go downstairs and try.” She sneezed and guiltily met Nate’s eye. So much for that.
“If you’d rather not share, I understand. My aunt is guarding that house from anyone but paying guests. And beautiful women who deliver mouthwatering cookies in time for high tea,” he added with a grin.
Kara’s hand stilled midway to the soup bowl, and she felt her cheeks grow warm at the compliment. He’d just called her beautiful—something she hadn’t heard in a long time, especially from a man. And it wasn’t just the fact that a person of the opposite sex found her attractive. It was that a man she was growing more and more fond of might feel the same.
She let out a small sigh. If only he wasn’t leaving in a week.
Not knowing what to do with the compliment, and embarrassed by the heat of her face, she blurted, “I’ll show you what I’ve done so far, but remember it’s not finished. I still have to do the roof and the chimney, and most of the decorations, too.” She stood, finding she already had more energy than she did before he stopped by, and guided him to the kitchen door, which led to an internal staircase down to the first floor.
She began questioning herself as soon as her foot hit the first step. What was she thinking? This man was the competition! And unlike Kathleen Madison or her mother, or some of the other people in town, Nate had made it clear that he was determined to win, and no doubt Mrs. Griffin was, too. She hardly knew the guy—he wasn’t willing to open up much. And here she was about to reveal something that wasn’t just her chance at a big break for her bakery but also something that was deeply personal. Where was her judgment?
But that was just the thing, she supposed. When it came to Nate, she hadn’t shown much of it. He had a knack for talking her into things.
Minutes later, they were standing in the kitchen of Sugar and Spice, Kara careful not to breathe on anything for fear of spreading germs, and Nate almost deadly quiet as he stared at the giant house she was constructing in the back corner of the room. Kara shifted the weight on her feet, feeling uneasy and full of regret, knowing they should have just stayed upstairs in her apartment. But oh… the thought of sitting there, looking into those eyes, alone in those quiet four walls… It made her want something she probably couldn’t have.
“I think this Kathleen person may have met her match,” Nate finally said.
Kara blushed and waved away the remark, but her heart was racing with fresh hope. She might actually stand a chance! She might really win!
“It’s not finished. See this?” She pointed to the pattern she’d managed to cut the day before, just before the cold hit full force and before the fever started. “I still have to make the roof. It’s the last piece I’ll add, but it needs to be finished soon so I can focus on the decorations.”
Nate nodded and quietly studied the rest of the house. “Is this design modeled on anything?”
Kara hesitated.
She didn’t often talk about her father; he’d died so long ago. It was sad in many ways, even though he was always in her heart. “It’s my childhood home. My mother still lives there. I wanted to re-create the feeling of Christmas morning. The excitement. The joy. The comfort.” She glanced through one of the windows. “See that chair near the fireplace? My dad used to sit there while we all scrambled around, tearing open our gifts. I love that chair.”
She swallowed the lump that had welled in her throat and stared at the room as memories sprang to life, almost real enough to touch. When she finally blinked, she realized that Nate was staring at her.
“Sorry,” she muttered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She suddenly felt vulnerable, exposed. Here she was in her pajamas, with no makeup, getting emotional about her past with a guy who was just passing through town… Only somehow he was beginning to feel like so much more than that.
“No apology needed,” Nate said, giving her a kind smile. “It sounds like your Christmas mornings were something to be cherished.”
There was something wistful in his eyes that made her think his Christmases weren’t ones he wanted to remember.
She nodded, struggling to push back the mix of emotions she felt when she thought of those days. Picture-perfect moments. Hers to keep forever. Just ones not meant to last forever, however much she’d wished they could.
She blinked back the tears that threatened to spill, telling herself firmly she had nothing to be sad over. She should be grateful, really, that she’d had that time. After all, she thought, drifting her gaze to Nate, perhaps not everyone did.
Kara sneezed, managing to turn her back from the gingerbread house just in time.
“You should get some rest,” Nate said firmly. He reached out to wipe the strand of hair from her cheek, the pad of his thumb lingering a second longer than probably necessary as his gaze bored into hers.
