The cookie-decorating station was located in a heated tent. Holiday music filled the air, along with laughter. Despite the popularity of the Christmas market, the cooking-decorating tent was thankfully not crowded. My nose wrinkled and my mouth watered at the smell of sugar and frosting. Already I could tell the cookies were going to be delicious.
“Are you Kip and Braxton?” the lady who wore the chef apron asked.
“Yes, we are,” Braxton said.
“I’m Alice. Thank you for coming. We’re very happy to be a part of this exciting day for you. We have your special cookies ready for you over here.” Her smile was warm and kind, and she seemed genuinely excited that we were here. Just how much had my mate told her about us? Clearly, she knew that we were newly mated.
She led us to a table that had four containers of different-colored frosting and several options for sprinkles. There were the little ball kind, snowflakes, and even little, tiny Christmas trees. She picked up the box and opened the lid. Inside were a dozen plain sugar cookies. There were bear and ornament shapes, but on the ornaments were the letters “K+B.”
“Oh, they are adorable,” I said.
“I’m glad you like them.” Alice beamed at the praise. “It was your mate’s idea. I just did the baking. You should have enough decorations and frosting, but if you would like anything else, just let me know. I’ll leave you to it,” Alice said. “If you need anything, just holler.”
I bumped Brax’s shoulder with mine as we stared at the array of cookies and decorations.
“Brax, I can’t believe you arranged all of this. We weren’t even apart very much today. How did you do it?”
He grinned. “It’s amazing what can be accomplished while you’re distracted by the oversized buffet.”
I laughed. “Just don’t tell my mom how much I’m enjoying someone else’s food.”
He made an X over his heart. “I would never.”
We both sat down at our table. The green vinyl tablecloth had dancing Santas and reindeer on it.
I found out quickly that my mate was a perfectionist when it came to cookie decorating. Where I was content to smear the frosting on with a knife and sprinkle a few sprinkles over top, my mate had other ideas. He used the piping bag to outline the whole shape, then carefully filled it in with frosting. Once that had dried, he added details. A scarf for the bears, with blue eyes and black lashes. He even put little lines on their feet to make them look more realistic.
I watched him work, mesmerized by the concentration on his face. His tongue poked out slightly as he added tiny dots of white frosting to create a snowflake pattern on one of the ornament cookies.
“You’re staring,” he said without looking up.
“Can you blame me? You’re really good at this. It’s very sexy.”
He glanced at my cookies. I had four done now; they were a mess of mismatched colors and sprinkles that looked like they’d been through a blizzard. “And you’re... enthusiastic.”
I let out a loud laugh that had a few of the other people in the tent looking our way. “Hey, they taste the same regardless of how pretty they are.”
“That’s not the point.” He set down his piping bag and reached for one of my bear cookies. “Here, let me show you.”
He scooted his chair closer until our thighs pressed together. Taking my hand in his, he guided the piping bag in smooth, even strokes. Now my bear had a scarf and little booties. “See? Just take your time.”
His warmth bled through our layers of clothing, and I found it hard to concentrate on anything other than how right it felt to have him this close, working together on something simple and sweet. At home, we’d worked together on dozens of projects, but knowing what he was to me now added a new layer of excitement to it all. It would be interesting to see how that worked once we got home. Were we ever going to be able to work side by side without me getting completely distracted by his muscles? Or would I be destined to walk around with a constant hard-on for the rest of my days.
“There,” he said, admiring our joint effort. “Much better. Isn’t he cute?”
“Only because you did most of the work.”
He bumped his shoulder against mine. “We make a good team.”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “We do. Are you as good at making cookies as you are at decorating them?”
Braxton laughed. “Actually, no. I am not much of a chef. There is a reason I am at the diner so often.”
“I thought it was to see me.” Not really. I’d been oblivious to Brax’s attention over the years. That and nearly every member of the den frequented the diner.
“Oh, it was. The food was just a perk. The perk being that I don’t die of food poisoning from my own cooking.”
“We can’t get food poisoning.” Or maybe we could. I didn’t wish to test the theory.
