“Of course, we won’t eat it. The gingerbread is probably stale as bricks, which means it’ll actually hold together.” Her puppy dog eyes are on full display. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
Since being a Scrooge wasn’t on my to-do list today, I hold out my hand for the instructions.
A small rustle pulls my attention toward the floor to find Ember, who somehow snuck closer, watching us with wide, hopeful eyes.
Kez glances at Ember, then at the empty chair beside her. She stands, scoops the puppy up, and places her gently on the seat. “Now you can watch, but that’s it.Nostealing.”
Ember’s tail wags as she settles into the chair, perfectly still, her eyes locked on the gingerbread.
I pet her head, and she doesn’t flinch. My brows quirk upward. “She’s actually behaving.”
“Christmas miracles do happen.”
A miracle is what I need. My stomach knots at the thought of our cabin debacle and losing Kez all over again. As fun as playing house is, I know this moment won’t last. Plus, my heart won’t survive if Kez pushes me away again, the way she did when life didn’t go as planned. Surrendering to the present, I peck her lips and pick up a gingerbread wall. “How do you want to start?”
Once the cookies are cooled and the gingerbread house is standing, we step back and tilt our heads. Our faces scrunch as we examine our work. The walls are crooked. The roof sags to the right. Kez’s side, of course. Globs of icing replace what should’ve been cute tiny square windows.
“She’s a little…wobbly, but I think she’ll make it.” I slap my hand against Kez’s for a high five.
She makes a contemplative noise. “Not bad for a fossil. At least she’s all in one piece.”
Then, a gumdrop falls from the roof onto the table. We crack up laughing.
Kez wipes her hands on a towel, then walks to the refrigerator. “Give me one second. I need to take something outside.”
Confused, I watch her fill a plate with berries, apple slices, carrots, and some leftover deli turkey from lunch yesterday.
“My dad used to set out food for the animals.” She smiles to herself, a hand wrapped around the piece of jewelry dangling from her necklace. “He always said no one should go hungry, especially near Christmas. Not even the raccoons.”
Warmth spreads through my chest. “That’s really sweet.”
“It’s silly, I know.”
I shake my head. “Not one bit.”
She pauses at the sliding doors and peers back at me, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Want to help?”
I slide into my jacket, then follow her outside. The cold air stings my face, but Kez’s warmth beside me makes this trip bearable. She sets the plate under a massive pine tree near the edge of the property line, where the snow isn’t as deep.
“Sometimes we’d see this family of raccoons,” she says, brushing snow off her hands. “Maybe they’re still around. Who knows.”
“I think your dad would be happy seeing you continuing his tradition.” I take her hand into mine, appreciating being able to share this moment with her. “He’d be very proud of you.”
She clears her throat. “Thanks for coming. It means a lot.”
We stand there for a moment, just breathing in the winter air, before returning back inside.
Back in the kitchen, I fill our mugs with mulled wine and take in the scent of orange and cinnamon. I set down small bowls of holiday sprinkles, crushed candy cane, and edible glitter next to the cooling racks and bags of icing.
Kez side eyes me suspiciously. “What are you up to, Harrington?”
“Cookie decorating competition, obviously.” I fix my fallen sweater sleeve. “Half the cookies each. One judge. Ember doesn’t count.” I flash a smile at the adorable puppy still sitting in the chair like an angel. Is this the same dog I know? “How about the winner gets bragging rights for the Holiday Cabin Showdown and picks tonight’s movie?”
She pecks my lips. “And lots of kisses?”
“You bet, Rudolph,” I say and boop her nose, leaving a dot of red icing. I kiss her again and again, then break away, stopping myself from getting distracted. Unlike the time she massaged me into a confession. Today, my victory is inevitable. I’ve watchedenough cooking competition TV shows to know how this works. Who will crack under pressure? Being a photographer, having a steady hand is my forte.
Her mouth kicks up at the corners. “I’ll set a timer.”
