A giggle escaped her as her gaze bounced to my bicep. “Don’t know your own strength?”
A flush crawled up the back of my neck. I wasn’t used to messing up in front of people, even on something as dumb as cookie decorating.
Belle must’ve noticed, because she set down her piping bag and smiled at me, all easy and bright. “The great thing about decorating cookies is there’s really no wrong way to do it,” she said. “They’re fun to make and eat no matter what they look like.” Her voice was so genuine, so sure, that the knot in my chest loosened a little.
I looked down at my sad blob of a stocking. “So what you’re saying is, I’m a natural.”
She laughed, and the sound went straight to my chest. “Something like that.” She reached over with a toothpick and started to smooth out the red blob.
Her sweet scent floated over to me, her proximity causing me to swallow. I tried not to focus on her profile, the way her eyes scrunched in concentration, the way her lips pushed out as she worked to fix my mistake, the way the hairs that had escaped her ponytail rested along her jawline and neck. There was something about this woman that made my thoughts go hazy. I had the irrational urge to reach out and tuck the soft golden hair behind her ear, thinking that maybe my touch would make her turn to face me so I could kiss her again—slow and sweet, like that kiss we’d shared under the mistletoe.
“There,” she said, breaking me from my trance.
I cleared my throat and looked down at the cookie, surprised to see she had been able to make it look like I hadn’t squirted a huge glob of frosting on the cookie.
“You’re a miracle worker,” I said, aiming for casualness even though my voice came out a little rough.
Belle grinned, a little smug, and reached for her own cookie again. “You’re not my first cookie-rescue mission.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
She nodded primly, like she wasn’t teasing. “There was this one time I helped a four-year-old make a reindeer out of icing and pretzels. I’m basically a professional.”
I snorted. “Are you comparing me to a four-year-old?”
“If the piping bag fits…” she said, flashing me a grin.
I shook my head, pretending to be offended. “That’s it. You’re asking for it.”
Before she could react, I swiped a little red frosting onto the tip of my finger and dabbed it lightly on the end of her nose.
She froze, blinking at me in shock, then let out a delighted laugh.
“Oh, you aresogoing down,” she said, reaching for the white frosting.
I smirked, watching her. “You sure about that, Rudolph?”
She gasped and wiped at her nose. “Holden!”
My grin widened at her response. “What? I think you make a cute Rudolph.”
Her cheeks instantly flushed, and I was so transfixed by that pretty pink blush of hers, I didn’t anticipate the swipe of frosting she smeared across my cheek.
I blinked, realizing too late what she’d done. “Oh, it’s on now,” I said, lunging at her with the frosting bag in hand.
Soon we were both laughing, dodging, and trying to smear frosting on each other’s faces. She was faster than I expected, but I managed to tag her on the cheek with more frosting.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d joked around like this with someone. Couldn’t remember the last time I’d let my guard down long enough to justhave fun.It felt easy with her—too easy, like the walls I usually kept around me didn’t stand a chance.
When we got a glare from the hotel employee in charge of the activity, who looked like she was seconds away from kicking us out, we called a truce.
Both of us were out of breath, laughing, and covered in frosting. Belle wiped her hands on a napkin, glancing over at me with a smile that made something warm settle in my chest.
“That was fun,” she said, still giving me that bright smile of hers.
“Yeah, it was.” The surprise in my voice was genuine.
I wasn’t sure how this woman had gotten me to decorate Christmas cookies, get into a frosting fight, andlaugh more than I could ever remember, but I was enjoying myself too much to take the time to analyze the why behind it. Being with her felt like a high, and I never wanted to come down from it.
