“But, to be fair, you could’ve left a note.”
“So youwereworried for me?”
“All things considered, yes. With my cat missing, and the house being what it is, I couldn’t help but worry.”
“Then,” he got out his phone from his coat pocket and slid it across the counter to Eliza. “We should exchange numbers. To soothe your anxiety, of course.”
“Of course,” she said. She punched in her number and added her name. “Eliza Jane Snow.”
Her phone dinged a second later. She glanced down at the screen, and his contact photo appeared. It was a picture of him on the cliffside of the coast, his arm slung around a German Shepherd.
“Who’s the dog?”
“My Fluffy.”
She snorted and tossed him a scone in response. He caught it with one hand, set it down on the island, and inspected it at all angles like a gemstone under appraisal. “Eight out of ten for presentation.”
“I didn’t know I was being judged on presentation!” she croaked.
“Well, you will be, tomorrow, ” he quipped. “Might as well start early. You’d better straighten up, Snow, or tomorrow won’t go in your favor.”
She rolled her eyes, placing a hand on her hip. “Shut up and taste the bloody thing.”
He obeyed, took a bite, and his eyes grew wide. “This is ...” he licked his lips. “Amazing.”
He paused, chewing thoughtfully. “ButI think it could need something else. A little extra‘Christmas pizzazz.’ I mean, don’t get me wrong, it truly is amazing. But I’ve tasted better from you, Snow.”
Eliza tasted one herself. She couldn’t say she disagreed.
It was good, but it wasn’t glowing. It wasn’t like all the other recipes that floated toward her on a whim.
“You think it needs a dash more zest?” she asked.
Puffcake nodded vigorously, twitching his tail. Lachlan only shrugged. “I’m not here to tell the master baker what to do. Only to judge.” He held his hands up in surrender. “But dang, yourexes must’ve put on a fair few stone after dating you. You’re bloody dangerous.”
Warmth burned Eliza’s cheeks, and she wasn’t sure if it was from flattery or embarrassment.
He quickly backpedaled. “I didn’t mean to ... I just meant you’re really talented.” For the first time this week, Lachlan looked embarrassed.
“It’s fine.” Eliza smiled dryly. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. Just be careful what you say. Or else next time I’ll feed you a burnt scone.”
She texted her friend back, figuring she’d waited long enough.
False Alarm. He came back.
For some reason, that made Eliza ridiculously happy.
As the day went on, it seemed like Lachlan, Eliza, and Puffcake had settled into a pretty easy routine. Lachlan tapped away briskly at emails between sips of hot chocolate, the glow of the screen reflecting in his mug. Across the counter, Eliza folded the dough for her second round of scones.
This batch carried its own twist, slight tweaks from yesterday’s recipe. Extra flakes of citrus zest wove throughoutthe dough like confetti, promising a burst of freshness to balance out the bite of the cranberry and the savory of the butter.
To drive the flavor home further, she decided to forsake chopped almonds altogether. Their heaviness only seemed to weigh down the dough before. Instead, she added almond extract, a concentrated liquid that wrapped warmth and sweetness around the cottage’s kitchen like a large blanket.
The room had settled into a gentle rhythm of small noises: the steady clack of keys as Lachlan typed, the occasionalclinkof a measuring spoon against a bowl, and the faint hum of Puffcake’s snores as he lost himself in sugary dreams. Beneath it all was the muffled crackle of holiday tunes floating in the air from the record player.
Lachlan let out a huff, breaking their long stretch of silence. “Do you ever get tired of listening to the same Christmas music? It’s been going on for five hours now.”
Eliza shot him a glare. “Doyouever get tired of working?” she asked, but she already knew the answer.
