“Any idea on how to get lots of snow?” I asked.
Toby squeezed some bright-white icing onto the roof and grimaced. “Not this way.”
Bab made a sound and took the bag from Toby’s hand to replace it with an offset spatula. Wrapping her hand around his, she demonstrated. “Like this,” she instructed, showing him how to spread the glob of icing so it was smooth.
“And then,” she said, moving away to grab a small silver sifter that looked like a coffee mug. “You do this before ithardens.” Holding the mug over the spot with the fresh icing, she pressed the handle repeatedly so powdered sugar rained from the bottom to cover the icing, making it look like snow.
“Oh, it’s pretty,” Toby said, watching it fall.
“Archer.” Bab gestured for me to come around, and when I did, she handed me the sifter. “You try.”
I did, and she nodded. “Good. Now keep going.”
She disappeared, leaving us alone in the small kitchen. The only sounds were the Christmas music playing over the speakers and the whirring of the sifter as I squeezed the handle.
We said nothing, didn’t even look at each other, but it didn’t dampen my awareness of him. If anything, it only heightened it. Every time he shifted, I caught a hint of whatever he was wearing, a fresh yet zesty scent that seemed to complement him perfectly and made me want to lean closer for another sniff.
I found myself again with words heavy on my tongue, words I wanted to give a voice to, but insecurity held me back.
“So, ah, how are things at the farm?”
It took me a moment to realize he’d spoken, the push and pull of my own thoughts so loud. When I failed to answer, he paused and glanced from the corner of his eye, the action just enough to shake me free.
“Ah, what?”
“The farm,” he repeated. “You must be busy right now.”
“Oh, ah, yeah.” I bobbed my head. “‘Tis the season,” I tacked on and then inwardly grimaced at my own lameness.
“We need snow,” he said, hooking his finger into the rim of the sifter and tugging it over the place he’d just iced.
I started squeezing, but the sifter inside made a scraping noise it hadn’t before, and I frowned, pulling my arm back to look inside. “It’s empty,” I announced.
“I’ll get it,” Toby offered, moving from my side to get a large container of confectioner’s sugar. He pulled off the lid and filledthe scoop with the powdery white stuff, and I thrust the cup toward him so he could dump it inside.
The second he did, sugar fell out of the bottom but also puffed out in a cloud above the top. I coughed, waving my free hand to try and clear the air. Apparently, I didn’t learn from my last run-in with this powdery menace.
Toby laughed, and I scowled. “What?”
“It’s all over your beard,” he mused. “You look like Santa Claus.”
On impulse, my tongue darted out to swipe some of the sugar off my lip. Sweetness bloomed over my tongue.
Still chuckling, Toby reached for the sifter. “Let me see,” he said, setting it aside and then turning to face me. My heart somersaulted when I realized there was nothing between us. No sifter, no gingerbread house, no coffee mug, or gingerbread supervisor.
It was just him and me…us.
Throat suddenly dry, I swallowed thickly as nerves buzzed inside me like bees in a jar. Toby lifted his hand, and everything slowed. The world turned into an afterthought as his fingers brushed lightly against the trimmed hair along my jaw and chin.
The intensity with which my heart hammered was painful, but I stayed rooted in place, not daring to move an inch because I’d rather die a million times over than do anything to dislodge his touch.
The tension knotted around us turned electric as if the air itself were holding its breath. I realized then that it didn’t matter how much I didn’t say because, even in silence, it was already there. That pull between us would forever be undeniable.
“You are such a mess,” Toby murmured, fingers still brushing the stubbly hair, the impersonal touch making me feel all kinds of personal.
“There,” he said, pulling back. “I think I got it all.”
I caught his wrist before he could pull away completely, wrapping my fingers around the bare skin just below his sleeve.
