The Clause In Christmas (Poppy Creek Series Book 1)

by Rachael Bloome

  Cassie wrinkled her nose. “I have to bake a mince pie. Although, it might as well be a pie of four and twenty blackbirds, considering I don’t have the ingredients for either.”

  “Wow!” Luke snorted with laughter. “Pulling out the obscure nursery rhymes. I’m impressed.”

  “As an only child, you read a lot.” Cassie flashed an endearing grin.

  It wasn’t lost on Luke that she wasn’t wearing a lick of makeup, which let her natural beauty shine. A few freckles dusted her nose and cheeks, like a sprinkling of brown sugar, and Luke had a strong urge to run his fingertips over them. He blew out a breath, banishing the impulsive idea. “You’re in luck. I happen to be a mince pie expert. I’ve helped my mother bake one every Christmas since I could hold a spoon.”

  Cassie smiled. “Your spoon-holding skills aside, how do we solve the problem of not having the right ingredients?”

  After kicking off his wet boots, Luke strode into the kitchen, followed by Cassie. He headed straight for the freezer. “If you haven’t already noticed, Edith was incredibly organized. And well prepared.” Pulling out a jar of premade mince pie filling, he set it on the counter with a triumphant grin.

  Inspecting the jar of frozen filling, Cassie arched an eyebrow. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… isn’t this cheating?”

  “We still have to heat the filling, make the crust, and bake it in the oven. It counts as making a pie in my book.”

  “If you say so. You’re the boss.” Her eyes sparkled playfully, highlighting the brilliant gold flecks in the sea of green, sending a spark of awareness rippling through Luke.

  Setting a double boiler on the stove, Luke swallowed. The only thing he needed to heat up tonight was the oven. They simply had to focus on baking a pie until the storm subsided enough for him to head home. The last thing he needed was to get stuck in an intimate, cozy cottage with the one woman who made time stand still. “So,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll work on defrosting the filling while you start the crust.”

  At Cassie’s blank stare, Luke pointed to the Christmas Calendar. “There should be a recipe.”

  Cassie ran her finger down the page, scrunching her face as she scanned the instructions. “This recipe doesn’t make any sense… What’s the difference between a pinch and a dash?”

  Luke chuckled at her perplexed expression. “Don’t worry. I’ll show you.”

  Hopping onto the barstool, Cassie watched Luke deftly assemble and measure the ingredients. “You’re quite the pro.”

  “When your mom owns a bakery, you pick up a thing or two.”

  “You should have gone into the family business,” Cassie teased.

  Luke smiled. “Actually, I did.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My law practice used to be my dad’s. In fact, it’s still his name on the door. The L stands for Leonard.”

  “Gosh, I had no idea. Did you always want to follow in his footsteps?”

  Luke dug his fists into the ceramic bowl, appreciating the soft, pliable feel of the dough as he shaped it by hand. “I didn’t seriously consider law school until my second year of college. When my dad got cancer.”

  “Oh, Luke. I’m so sorry!”

  Encouraged by the sincerity in her voice, Luke drew in a deep breath and continued. “It was a rough time. He eventually went into remission—long enough to see me graduate from law school. We all thought he was in the clear. But a few weeks after graduation, we learned his cancer had come back. We lost him four months later.”

  Without saying a word, Cassie reached across the counter and gently placed her hand on his forearm. Luke savored the gentle, comforting feel of her soft skin against his own.

  Then, as if the connection between them had suddenly grown too intense, she pulled away. Averting her gaze, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “He must have been very proud to have you take over his practice.”

  “He was.” Luke’s chest tightened recalling the day his dad handed him the key to the office.

  “What did you want to do before you switched to law school?” Cassie asked.

  Luke’s hands stilled, and the sticky ball of dough fell from his grip, plopping onto the bottom of the bowl. No one had ever asked him that before. And for a moment, Luke hesitated. He’d hardly admitted the thought to himself, let alone another human being. But for some reason, Luke wanted to tell Cassie. He wanted to tell her everything. “Do you remember the furniture in my office?”

  “Of course! They’re all beautiful pieces. Especially Dolores’s rocking chair.”

  Luke’s heart did a funny little dance at her words of praise, and he could only imagine the goofy grin taking over his features. “I made them.”

  “You made them?” she asked slowly. “Like, actually made them? With your own two hands?”

  He chuckled. “Well, I used tools. But yes, I made them myself.”

  Her eyes brightened. “Luke, that’s amazing! You have a gift. Seriously. People pay top dollar for craftsmanship like that. Have you ever thought about opening your own furniture business?”

  Luke dumped the lump of dough onto the butcher block and began kneading. “Not really.”

  “Why not?” Her tone held no censure, only curiosity. But her question mirrored the same one he’d refused to ask himself for years.

  “Because no one in Poppy Creek needs bespoke furniture,” Luke said a little gruffer than he intended. Grappling for the right words, he exhaled, his shoulders slumping as a rush of air escaped his lungs. Finally he spoke, doing his best to keep his voice slow and even. “Poppy Creek needs me to be Leonard Davis. My dad wasn’t just the guy you’d call for legal advice. He was the rock of the entire town. The one you could call at any time, for any reason. Folks around here relied on him.” An image of his dad’s strong features flashed before Luke’s eyes, and he swallowed against the unwanted surge of emotion, jabbing his fist into the clump of dough.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize,” Cassie said softly.

  “Don’t be sorry. It’s not you.” Luke attempted a smile, only managing a crooked one at best. “It’s me. It’s kind of a… tough subject. So, what about you? What’s your dream job?”

  “The truth?”

  “Preferably.” Luke chuckled, feeling the tension lift from his shoulders.

  Cassie paused, grazing her teeth over her bottom lip as she appeared to study him, assessing his trustworthiness. When her lips finally parted, she said, “I’ve always wanted to own my own coffee shop. A place where I can match people with their perfect cup of coffee.” A soft light lit her eyes from within. “My favorite thing in the world is when someone doesn’t know what they want, and then they take a sip of what I created for them. One sip. And their entire posture changes. Their shoulders relax. The crease in their forehead fades. It’s like they’ve come home, and they didn’t even realize they were lost.”

  Watching the passion illuminate Cassie’s face stirred something in Luke. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. And he wanted nothing more than to lean across the counter, take her beautiful face in his hands, and kiss her. Like he’d almost done last night.

  As if reading his mind, Cassie blushed. “That probably sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

  “Not at all,” Luke said, wishing his voice didn’t sound so husky. “And I have no doubt your dream will come true one day.”

  “Thanks.” The word escaped barely above a whisper, her hushed tone increasing the air of intimacy in the snug space.

  Luke’s heartbeat hammered so loudly he was certain Cassie could hear it. Now was his chance. He had to tell Cassie how he felt. With any luck, she’d return his feelings. But…

  Luke glanced out the window. Thick snowflakes continued to tumble from the sky. If she didn’t feel the same way, Luke would be trapping them inside the cottage to stew in the awkwardness. Could he really risk putting Cassie in that position?

  Forcing aside his own preference, Luke asked, “How ab
out we get this pie in the oven, and I’ll show you how we spend a snow day in Poppy Creek?”

  “Before I say yes,” Cassie said, sliding off the stool, “please tell me it’s not knitting.”

  Laughter rumbled through Luke’s chest. “No, not knitting. Cassie Hayward, it’s time for your Christmas movie marathon.”

  A slow, tantalizing smile spread across Cassie’s lips, and Luke groaned internally. How in the world would he spend the next several hours curled up on the couch next to this irresistible woman without crossing the invisible line of friendship?

  Luke certainly didn’t consider himself a weak man.

  But did he have that much strength?

  He honestly wasn’t sure.

  Chapter 9

  A persistent pounding on the front door roused Cassie from a deep sleep. Groggy, she released a low moan. What was it with small towns and everyone showing up unannounced all the time?

  It took her a moment to orient herself with her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was…

  Cassie’s cheeks burned at the sudden memory. She’d fallen asleep on the couch with Luke during The Santa Clause. Which was ironic, considering she could relate to Tim Allen’s character. But halfway through the film, she’d nodded off until Luke’s soft murmur, and the warmth of his breath tickling her forehead stirred her awake.

  They’d parted ways at the top of the staircase, awkwardly saying goodnight before Luke disappeared into the spare room. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to fall asleep with Luke a few feet down the hall. But slumber had come quickly, and she felt a strange sense of peace knowing he was nearby.

  Cutting into her thoughts, the hammering on the front door grew more urgent.

  “Luke? Cassie? I know you’re both in there. I can see your cars buried in the snow.”

  Eliza!

  Cassie’s heart quickened as she wrestled with the tangle of covers, tumbling onto the floor in a jumble of sheets and quilts.

  “Are you okay?” Luke appeared in the doorway, sleepy-eyed and disheveled, his voice deep and husky first thing in the morning.

  Cassie couldn’t let her eyes linger too long on the adorable cowlick in his dark hair, or the faint impressions the pillow left on his stubbled cheek. “It’s Eliza!” she hissed. “She’s going to think you spent the night.”

  Luke’s chuckle came out low and raspy. “I did spend the night.”

  “You know what I mean.” Finally free of the covers, Cassie jumped to her feet and pushed past him into the hall, doing her best to ignore his irresistible, musky scent.

  Watching Christmas movies over slices of mince pie had already drained every ounce of self-control she possessed. The urge to lean against him as they sat side by side on the couch all evening had been stronger than she wanted to admit. Even to herself.

  Throwing open the front door, Cassie was surprised to see Ben standing beside his mother, dressed head to toe in an entire department store’s worth of snow gear.

  “I want to hear all about this,” Eliza said, waggling her finger between Luke and Cassie. “But it’ll have to wait. School has called a snow day because of some frozen pipes, my parents are out of town, and I need someone to watch Ben while I’m at work. I tried your place first, Luke. But when you weren’t home, I figured I’d check here.” Eliza didn’t bother hiding her smirk.

  Cassie’s cheeks reddened. She supposed Luke had been spending an inordinate amount of time at the cottage, but it didn’t mean anything. Did it?

  “Luke came over yesterday to check on me,” Cassie blurted. “But the storm didn’t let up, so he stayed the night. In the extra bedroom.”

  “I see.” Eliza flashed an impish grin. “I can’t wait to get all the details.” She winked before turning to Ben and planting a kiss on his forehead—the only part of his body not engulfed in layers of winter wear. “Be good. Love you.”

  “Love you.” Ben’s voice was muffled behind the thick scarf wrapped high around his neck.

  As Cassie watched Eliza crunch through the snow to her Honda Accord, she asked, “Is it even safe for her to drive through the snow in that car?”

  “A volunteer crew plows all the roads into town,” Luke explained. Placing a hand on Ben’s shoulder, he nudged the boy inside. “Come on, let’s get out of the cold.”

  Ben waddled into the foyer before Cassie closed the door, shutting out the early morning chill.

  “I have to make the rounds and check on a few people after the storm,” Luke said, helping Ben escape his snow gear. “Can Ben stay with you?”

  “Sure.” Cassie managed a weak smile, swallowing her nerves. She’d never babysat a gerbil, let alone a child. But she liked Ben. How hard could it be?

  With his outerwear now piled in a heap on the floor, Ben stood in a pair of navy corduroys and a red sweater with Rudolph appliquéd on the front, glancing from Luke to Cassie, as if waiting for a cue.

  “Do you want to help Cassie with her Christmas Calendar today?” Luke asked.

  Ben showcased the small gap between his two front teeth, nodding enthusiastically.

  “Why don’t you go check the day’s activity? The Calendar is in the kitchen. Look under December 5.”

  Grinning from ear to ear, Ben skipped into the kitchen, leaving the adults to talk.

  “You’re sure you’re okay with him staying?” Luke asked.

  Cassie hesitated, busying herself with hanging Ben’s belongings on the coat rack next to Luke’s. “Yes, I’m sure. It’ll be… fun.” Okay, so she didn’t know if it would be fun, exactly. But she felt a certain kinship with Ben. And to her surprise, the thought of spending an afternoon together was almost pleasant.

  “Great!” Luke smiled. “Call me if you need anything.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  An awkward pause filled the space as they stared at each other, uncertain how to say goodbye.

  Luke cleared his throat and reached for his boots.

  His jeans and sweater were rumpled, and Cassie briefly wondered if he’d slept in them, or… Another blush tinted her cheeks. She seemed to be blushing a lot these days, and she didn’t like it one bit. No man had affected her this much since… Actually, no one ever had. Period. The realization sent nervous jitters skittering inside her stomach.

  Glancing anywhere except at Luke, Cassie swept a tangled curl behind her ear. “I’ll, uh, go check on Ben.”

  Their subsequent goodbye felt clumsy, and the second the door closed behind Luke, Cassie released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

  Under normal circumstances, Cassie might obsess over what the new tension between them meant, but for now, she had a small child to keep alive. And who knows what he was up to unsupervised.

  As Cassie entered the kitchen, Ben sat at the dining table, his legs swinging as he read the day’s entry on the Christmas Calendar. Noticing Cassie, he shot an exuberant grin in her direction. “Guess what?”

  “What?” She set the teakettle on the stove, desperate for a cup of coffee.

  “We have to build a snowman!” Ben’s excitement sent his voice soaring several octaves higher.

  Cassie frowned. “Well, that seems unfair. What if it hadn’t snowed yesterday? How could I complete the Calendar, then?”

  Ben stared at her, his little legs still swinging beneath the chair. Clearly, he didn’t concern himself with the injustice of the situation. It had snowed. Which was apparently good enough for him.

  “Have you had breakfast yet?” Cassie asked, deciding to move on. “I thought I might make pancakes.”

  “Chocolate chip pancakes?” Ben scooted toward the edge of the chair, his doe eyes bright and expectant.

  “Let’s see.” Cassie searched the pantry. “We’re in luck.” She held out a mason jar filled with chocolate chips, and Ben whooped, hopping down to join her.

  “Mom lets me mix the batter.”

  Cassie chuckled. “I have a feeling you’re going to be better at making pancakes than I am.”

&nb
sp; * * *

  After eating breakfast and washing up, Cassie helped Ben back into his snow gear, bundling herself in as many layers as she could comfortably manage. Maybe she should invest in some decent snow clothes? She immediately dismissed the idea. Her first week of the Calendar was almost over. Before she knew it, she’d be leaving Poppy Creek, heading back to San Francisco, no longer in need of a snowsuit. The realization left a surprising weight in the pit of her stomach. One she promptly ignored as she and Ben headed outside.

  Building a snowman with Ben proved to be more fun than Cassie expected. Although the chilly air stung her cheeks, the exertion from rolling the huge snowballs left her plenty warm beneath her thick sweater and wool peacoat.

  Several failed attempts at stacking the lumpy blobs of snow had them both doubling over in laughter, but they eventually managed to create a lopsided snowman with two walnut shells for eyes and an orange highlighter pen for a nose. To her delight, Ben said he liked it even better than a carrot. Cassie also parted with a handful of her precious coffee beans for the snowman’s smile.

  Stepping back, they surveyed their handiwork.

  “Not bad.” Cassie smiled down at Ben, whose little face glowed with pride. “But I guess he needs arms, huh? Let’s look around and see if we can find some sticks buried in the snow.”

  As they searched, Cassie asked, “What are we going to name him? Frosty the Snowman?”

  Ben shook his head. “No. This isn’t Frosty.”

  “Who is he, then?” Cassie’s gaze fell on the tip of a branch peeking out from the glittering snow. Gripping it with her damp gloves, she prepared to yank it free.

  “He’s my dad,” Ben answered the same moment Cassie gave a firm tug.

  In her surprise, she lost her balance, falling on her backside in a mound of snow.

  “Yay! You found one!” Ben cheered, oblivious to the affect his comment had on her. Racing over, he plucked the stick from her hands. “Good job.”

  “Thanks.” Cassie hoisted herself out of the snowdrift, watching Ben twist the branch into the side of the snowman. “Ben…” she said slowly.