He stole a sideways glance at her, a smile tugging at his lip. “Think you’ll smoke, Mrs. Elle Toe?”
“I’m certainly going to try.”
“If you need help finding a place...” he nudged her playfully on the shoulder. “... I just so happen to know a charming realtor.”
Eliza froze for a second, her hand buried deep in a bag of flour. Lachlan’s words caught her off guard. Sure, he was being playful, but she heard the sincerity behind them. Help. Lachlan wanted to help her. “Oh? Is he cute?”
“Devastating.” He smirked, “And the word’s out that he’s got a soft spot for sassy blondes who bake like their life depends on it.”
Eliza snorted, feeling her face warm. “That’s a very specific type.”
Lachlan flashed his white teeth, abandoning his work to turn to her. He looked down, his smile almost blinding. “Turns out, it’s my favorite.”
Her fingers suddenly felt foreign and tingly, like she was having an out-of-body experience. Him flirting with her made her knees way more wobbly than it had any right to do. Why wasa twenty-five year old womanthisnervous over something so simple?
She still couldn’t quite fathom why he would offer his help outside the safety of this holiday escape. It hinted at something more—something that connected them outside of the realm of this cottage’s strange and mysterious enchantment. Something real that might follow them back from the world of make-believe that was this kitchen.
She wiped her hands off on her apron, nervously turning to face him. She took a deep breath, suddenly feeling the weight of everything unspoken between them. Whatever this was—whatever he was playing at ... It wouldn’t last. She knew it.
They’d leave the day after Christmas, go their separate ways, and Lachlan would forget all about her. Chalk up the whole story to some weird coincidence.
“I had a bakery once,” she blurted, not meeting his eyes. As soon as she said the words, she instantly wanted to take them back.
“Tell me about it.”
She looked down, focusing her attention on where the lumps of dough sat on the flour-sprinkled countertop. “It was small. Nothing fancy. Just a bright blue building with white trim. A couple of employees to work the checkout. A door that jammed in the summer...” her voice grew into a whisper. “I poured everything into that place. My time, my money, every ounce of who I was.
“My fiancé—ex-fiancé—” she clarified, “co-signed the lease for me. He knew Honeycomb was everything to me, and he took it when we split. In the papers, he made it so that he owned fifty-one percent, so he owned the majority. I didn’t have the money to fight him.”
She gave a sad smile, remembering all of the drama again, her anger rekindling. Lachlan didn’t offer to speak. Just offered his quiet presence next to her.
She laughed bitterly. “Which is funny because he always told me that baking was a silly career. That while I was busy playing housewife, he was out there making ‘big boy money.’”
Lachlan took a step forward, but didn’t reach out to touch her. “That’s not funny. That’s?—”
“I know,” she cut in, her voice frayed. “The more he ridiculed me, the more I worked. I worked myself to the bone trying to make a name for myself. I wanted to prove ...” Her voice felt broken as she finished the last part. “I guess I wanted to prove that it was worth it. ThatIwas worth it. But it wasn’t. It never was. So I closed it, or at least, tried to.”
She curled her fingers into tight fists at her sides. “Until Davis realized how much he wanted to keep it, and refused to take it out of his name. Said it was his idea all along. And guess what? His new girlfriend is his lawyer.”
A long silence stretched between them. Puffcake, sensing Eliza’s sadness, fluttered over to her shoulder and curled up on it like a purring cat. She reached up and stroked his spine, her gaze absent.
Lachlan didn’t speak, didn’t try to give advice or half-hearted platitudes. He didn’t offer up anything. Instead, he just looked at her. Not as something broken, or to figure out, but as someone worth listening to.
“He’s out of his mind,” Lachlan said at last. “He’s got no idea what he lost.” He took a step forward. “And if I’ve learned anything about people who hurt others on purpose, it’s that their actions say more about them than they do about you.”
Eliza blinked, letting the words sink in. “I just can't imagine doing something like that to someone you're supposed to love.” Tears now filled her eyes.
“Youcan’t imagine doing that to someone you love because you would never do it to anyone. Even to someone you hate. You’re nothing like him, Eliza. You’re good. That’s why it hurts.”
Her throat tightened. Lachlan had used her first name when referring to her, not her last. It was like a match that lit from inside her chest, spreading throughout her entire body.
She looked down at her hands, getting an idea. “I’m going to name the scones ‘Winter Hearth Scones.’ Because they remind me of that kind of warmth. The kind you don’t expect, but once you feel it, you never want to lose it. What do you think?”
A grin grew across his face. “I love it.”
She wasn’t sure when she’d started enjoying his company, much lessopening upto him. But now that he was here, listening, it all felt right and warm and oddly familiar, the same way Puffcake nestled into her shoulder felt right and warm and oddly familiar too.
“Lachlan?” She breathed his name, voice low. “Thanks for sticking around.”
