We wander around the perimeter for a bit, taking in the fluffy frosting acting as glue and decoration, the gingerbread, and more candy than I’ve seen all year. The smell finally gets to me and I can’t wait any longer, so I go to the table on the far side where Sam set up the ingredients for us. Per tradition, I start by taste-testing all the items he laid out.
“Is the activity eating candy? Because that is a good Christmas activity. Even if it is in the big city.” Beau filches a few gumdrops off the side of the pile.
“Taste testing,” I correct him. “Then we’re making a gingerbread auction house to put in the lobby at Loot.” I ruin the grand order by eating more candy.
This is why Sam gives me triple the amount I need. And why he always gets a grateful present for his trouble.
“All right. What should we do first?”
“Suit up.” I toss an apron at him and it lands on his head, where he lets it stay for a second while I laugh.
“Is it going to get that messy?” He finally takes the apron off his head and puts it on.
“Not really. I make sure most of it gets in my mouth.” I start to sort out the gingerbread pieces before I realize what I just said. My eyes are wide. “Oh, no. Um, shit.” We are a sexual innuendo a minute tonight. “Because I like to eat. Food.”
Beau is still laughing softly through my explanation.
I charge through the awkward phrasing. “Anyway, I usually make Loot with a building front and then an auction scene behind it.”
“That sure does sound ambitious.”
“I do this every year. I’m practically a professional.” I thrust some pieces of gingerbread at him to get him started. Anything to get him to forget what I said.
“What made you guys want to expand the business from agriculture to renewable energy?” I ask to better know my client. Only so I can better guide him on which pieces to buy.
“My grandfather and Daniel’s grandfather started the farming business on a plot of land they bought together. Then our dads expanded it to multiple farm sites. Daniel and I both wanted to do something to make the company bigger in our own way, but we weren’t sure how.”
Beau takes over, holding up two gingerbread pieces I was trying to glue together with frosting and I give him a quick smile in thanks. This is much easier with help.
As we work, he keeps talking. “We started by putting some solar panels on our farms to make us more efficient, but we both wanted to do more and expand into research. Like batteries and the equipment itself for solar power and how to make it better. I got my degree in engineering, before I ended up back at the family business. It’s always interested me.”
“That’s very noble and environmentally friendly.”
“It is. But it’s also selfish, considering that our entire orchard, and therefore livelihood, could be wiped out by any extreme fluctuations in temperature and rain. It’s in our best interests to stop those from happening by getting more people to use alternative energy. And it’s going to be lucrative even beyond our farm, if we develop more efficient equipment.”
“It’s always nice when you can be both noble and selfish.” I steal some more candy. “Where’d you go to school?”
“The University of South Carolina. It’s in the big city—Columbia.”
“Hmm. Is that a big city, though?” I mix sprinkles into the frosting.
“Big enough.”
I mentally sigh. That drawl. I never want to move away from New York, but damn if that voice doesn’t make me want to go to the nearest Boot Barn and get a belt buckle with a cow on it. Or some boots with a cow on them.
Cows would be involved, whatever happens.
“Did you ever want to move away from the farm? I imagine it must be easier to start a business like that in a city.”
“No.” He answers confidently and immediately. “I love home. My family, my memories, everything I know is there. It’s a good place to live. I want this business to succeed and that means coming to the city and setting up offices here. And probably some work trips out here once it is, but video chat should help with that. But I will be living at home while I do it. We originally tried to start this up in Atlanta, closer to home, but it just didn’t work. So we’re trying again here.”
My suspicions are confirmed. He isn’t moving away from his home anytime soon. So I don’t have to worry about this turning into a thing with feelings. That is a good thing.
“How about you? What made you choose this line of work?” He connects the gingerbread base to a gingerbread wall with all the concentration he would give setting the foundation for an actual building.
“It’s a family business, so choice didn’t really factor into the equation too much.”
“Do you not like it?”
