“Don’t be,” he said, taking the lights from her, their hands brushing. “Everything happens for a reason.” His eyes locked on hers. “And for the record? You’re not a stranger. I’ve been living with you for the past day, and I very much like getting to know you.”
Eliza misstepped and accidentally bumped into Lachlan as she was handing the loop of lights to him to hang around the back.
“Careful,” he warned, grabbing her waist to steady her.
“Your fault!” she joked, her face practically burning alive. It felt like someone had stuck her directly over the fire to roast. “You were blocking all the light.”
He looked down just as she looked up, and for the time being, the world stood still. Her gaze locked on his deepest brown eyes of molten chocolate; only the kind you’d find in the finest of bakeries.
“Um,” he cleared his throat. His gaze softened. “You have glitter on your bottom lip.”
“Do I?” Eliza breathed. Her heart was stuck somewhere between her throat and her stomach.
“Uh huh.”
Slowly, he reached up, brushing his thumb across her lower lip to wipe away the speck. But then his hand stilled. Her breathing hitched, caught in the silence stuck between them. All she could feel was the warmth of his skin pressed on her face. And for a breath, he held her there, the world narrowing down to their single point of contact.
She stood frozen as the icicles hung outside the cottage. She was suddenly too aware of everything. The way her breath quickened, her heart racing beneath her ribs, the comforting scent of evergreen that clung to his skin.
Her heart pounded so fast that she was sure Lachlan could feel it.
Something shifted along the rafters above them. There was a rustling sound, like frosting was being swirled over a cake. Emerald vines of piping curled down from the ceiling, rapidly lacing themselves as it descended—no,grew— to meet them. In the center, just over Lachlan and Eliza’s heads, was a sprig of mistletoe.
“I swear this house has no chill,” Eliza nervously laughed.
“Neither do I, apparently.” Lachlan lifted her chin with his thumb, silently waiting for the cue.
Was it the magic of the house, the nostalgia of the holiday, or something else entirely that made Lachlan seem so drawn to her? Eliza couldn’t tell. But the question haunted her: would he one day wake up and treat her like something he’d grown tired of? Was he even thinking about the future, or just living in the magical moments shared within these warm, gingerbread walls?
And how long would the chemistry spark before the flame burned out? When was it a matter of time before his love, or infatuation, or whatever this was, quietly faded, too, vanishing before it was ever even truly hers?
She took a step back. “I’m not kissing you simply because a sentient gingerbread Airbnb encourages me to.”
Puffcake let out a massive, melodramatic yawn from his luxurious mixing bowl bed.
“What if it wasn’t encouraging you to do so? Would you have a change of heart?” He asked.
Eliza shrugged. “I would?—”
Lachlan flashed Eliza a smile. “So youwouldkiss me?”
“I wasn’t finished!” she floundered, swatting at him. “Enough with your antics.”
“Hey, I’m just an innocent bystander.” Lachlan put his hands up. “I’m just as much a victim to these gingerbread crimes as you are.”
The mistletoe shook from side to side, as if in anticipation of the big moment. But it never came.
Eliza pushed him away playfully. “Sure you are, Casanova.”
He caught her hand and held it there, just above his heart. She felt the soft thump-thump of his pulse beating like a steady drum. She wondered if he could feel hers through the shallow veins of her wrist. And if she’d thought her heart was beating fast earlier, now it was about to sputter out of control.
“It’s good you don’t give in to peer pressure, Snow.” His expression grew serious, his eyes meeting hers once more and drowning her in chocolatey goodness. “I wantyouto want to kiss me. Not because the gingerbread house says so.” He said with a wink.
Eliza nervously stepped around Lachlan, and he broke his grip, but the feeling of his hand on hers still lingered. “C’mon,” she said, gasping for air. “Let’s finish this tree before it tangles us up together in tinsel.”
Soon, the tree was shimmering with glitter, lights, and pure magic. Even Puffcake was impressed.
It was well past midnight now, and Eliza just pulled her second batch of chocolate chip biscuits out of the oven. After she and Lachlan set up the tree, the mistletoe had vanished as quickly as it had gotten there, disappearing from the ceiling with apopbefore bursting into a cloud of sparkles.
