She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
Puffcake’s gumdrop eyes popped open, as if suddenly struck with an idea. He batted his little glittery wings over to them, using his snout to point at each of their hands before pointing to the door.
“I think he wants us to try opening the door together,” Lachlan said.
She huffed, but she placed her hand atop the knob. Next, Lachlan’s hand came down over hers, wrapping her in warmth. Heat radiated up her fingers and spread through her body, like the cottage had just cranked the heat up by several degrees.
The moment they touched the door in unison, the lock clicked open, and the cool outside air rushed in to greet Eliza’s hot face.
“I think the house likes us together,” Lachlan laughed.
“Don’t start that nonsense,” Eliza warned. “Now, where exactly is the tree farm?”
Lachlan pulled out the Airbnb’s brochure from his back pocket and waved it. He opened it, running a finger along the map. “X marks the spot.”
They trudged up the hill and through the snow, the hush of the forest only broken by the crunch of their boots underfoot and the rhythmic creak of pine trees as the wind picked up.
Every meter or so, a fresh piece of bread appeared alongside the road—golden and steamy against the cold snow. Gretel had said that Hansel’s breadcrumbs were of a “special sort,” designed to keep wanderers from getting lost no matter the season, even in the thickest snowfall.
What Hansel hadn’t accounted for was Puffcake’s ability to put down.
Without fail, the little sugar sprite took his sweet time hopping down from Eliza’s makeshift scarf sling to pause by each breadcrumb. Then, he’d gobble up the breadcrumb right there on the path.
“Puffcake!” Eliza called, “Those aren’t for eating. We’ll need them to find our way back to the cottage.”
Puffcake shot her a defiant look, as if he wasn’t one bit remorseful.
It was helpful that the blizzard had not seemed to touch the woods with the same kind of intensity as it had in the cottage. Even the trails were only lightly covered in snow, but still visible.
“Do you think that the cottage somehow created the blizzard to trap us inside together?” Eliza asked.
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” answered Lachlan.
Behind them, Puffcake flapped his wings hard as he struggled to keep up. His breath came out in little, quick puffs of flurries. Eliza stopped halfway up the incline, unwound her scarf, and gently cupped her hands. “Come here, you little over-baked spice bread.”
Puffcake gave a satisfied purr as he settled himself into the scarf. Soon, he was fast asleep, snoring with every inhale.
Her mobile dinged. She frowned as she glanced at the message. It was from an unknown number, but she knew exactly who sent it. Her stomach tightened.
Davis
You bloody serious, Liz? You blocked me? Really mature. No wonder you lost the bakery. Couldn’t handle the heat, could you?
Tears pricked at her eyes. He could be so mean sometimes. And he knew she hated it when he called her Liz.
“Everything okay?” asked Lachlan.
“Mhmm,” she hummed, faking a smile. “Of course. Sorry, it’s just . . Someone from back home. You can take the girl away from the bakery, but you can’t take the bakery away from the girl.”
Lachlan arched a brow, unconvinced by her deflection. “I thought you came here to escape for a little while.”
“Thought so, too,” Eliza mumbled. “Turns out you can’t in a world full of toxic exes and mobile phones.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, slowing his pace just a little. “Maybe it’d be best to turn it off for a little while.”
“Quite thick coming from you,” she said. “How many villas have you closed on since you’ve been here?”
“Closed? Zero. Inquired? About four.”
