“How so?” It was hard to pay attention, and I probably looked like an absolute fool staring at him so I wouldn’t drift again.
“It’s just too much, you know?” I didn’t, but I kept my mouth shut. Luckily, he explained his logic. “When I was younger, it started before Thanksgiving was even over. My mom and her sisters couldn’t even make it through the family dinner before they were talking about the deals they wanted to find on Black Friday, and everyone had to go to bed early because they wanted to get up early enough to drive up to Pineville to get the best deals. But then they were grumpy by the time they got home because there was no time to relax because my Gran and her mom had a tradition where we all baked cookies all weekend.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.” So far, it sounded downright idyllic. I would have given anything to have a close family. Mine got together to celebrate the holidays, of course, but there were no fun traditions.
Carson’s eyes glinted. I loved how little lines formed at the corners of his eyes when he genuinely smiled. “Careful what you wish for. That tradition lives on, even if it’s been scaled back since my great-grandma died. I’ll drag you along to put everyone else to shame.”
“You make that sound like a threat, but I was serious.” I wasn’t going to push, but if he seriously wanted me to join his family to bake, I’d be in heaven. The Langsford family could have been the inspiration for at least a handful of Hallmark movies, and that was before he’d started telling me about his family’s traditions that had apparently ruined the holidays for him. “Christmas is supposed to be about spending time with the ones you love.”
“Exactly my point.” Carson shifted to get comfortable, distracting me once again. This time, it was his biceps and pecs. If I was shallow for being so obsessed with his physique, I’d own it. “The entire month of December, it felt like we were constantly on the go. Between the school programs, rehearsals for the children’s Christmas program at church, different get-togethers, our parents packing us into the car to go from one family celebration to the next, it sucked. By the time Christmas night rolled around, we were all at one another’s throats. What’s the point of it all if you can’t actually enjoy the time?”
“So make new memories,” I suggested. Sometimes, my mouth worked faster than my brain. The words fell out as if it were that simple. “You already said your family’s cookie tradition is smaller than it used to be. Maybe it’s time for you to scale things back and find a bit of that joy you wished you could have had.”
“And how do you recommend I do that?” Carson scoffed. “You’ve obviously never met my mom. Even though we don’t have as many family dinners to go to as we used to, she always wants everything to be perfect.”
“Have you considered that maybe she’s doing that for your benefit?” If I had a family, that’s what I’d do. I’d want to give them everything I didn’t have when I was younger. I wished there was a way to give that to Carson too. “Was there anything you did like about Christmas when you were younger?”
He considered my question for a long moment. A wave of emotions crossed his face, and I wished I could peek into that brain of his to see what memories he was recalling. The corner of his mouth tipped up when his eyes finally met mine. “My great-grandma used to make the best gingerbread. A lot of it was these cutout cookies we decorated to give away, but then she always made a batch of dough Gramps would cut into the pieces for us boys and our cousins to construct gingerbread houses. Everyone’s was different. They weren’t just houses either. By the time all of us were done, we’d created the ugliest gingerbread town you’d ever seen. But they always praised us for how beautiful it was. I think they just liked that it gave us something to do so we weren’t underfoot when our moms and grandma were baking the cookies that didn’t get frosted.”
The way he lit up as he described the gingerbread construction project was infectious. That was something I could give him. It was officially time to make Carson reclaim the Christmas spirit.
We talked a bit longer, mostly me asking questions about him and his family. That seemed safer than navigating the unpleasantness of my own upbringing. Soon enough, I’d tell him about my ultra-conservative parents, who would never approve of anything I did. But for now, I wanted to keep the mood light.
The longer we talked, the harder it was for Carson to stifle his yawns. As much as I’d have loved listening to him all night, I needed to get some sleep too. But I couldn’t figure out how to convey that without him thinking I was giving him the boot. The music softly played through the lulls in our conversation. My eyes drifted closed as I savored this memory. I wasn’t sure if it counted as a date, but in my mind, it totally did. And it was the best first date I’d ever had.
“I should probably head out.” Until he spoke, I hadn’t realized I’d actually nodded off. When I opened my eyes, Carson was standing directly in front of me, his back arched and arms stretched over his head. The movement lifted the hem of his shirt enough for me to see a dark line of hair from his belly button down past the waistband of his jeans. “Sorry, back was tight.”
“It’s—you’re fine,” I assured him, hating that I’d once again stumbled over my words.
“Do you need a ride to work tomorrow morning?”
As much as I appreciated the offer, I didn’t want to put him out. I considered telling him I’d figure it out, but the only people I could call would have to leave work to drop me off at the bakery. I could probably get away with not going in again, but I didn’t want Shiloh to think I was flaking on him. Carson was my best bet. And he’d offered. I hadn’t asked. I rubbed the back of my neck. “If it’s not too much of a problem, that would be great.”
He stepped closer, offering me his hand. When he tugged me off the couch, I had no choice but to press my chest against his. That wasn’t exactly a hardship. I inhaled deeply, loving the way he smelled. I tilted my head back, needing to know what the view was like standing so close to him. It was everything I’d dreamed of and more. I shifted the lower half of my body back slightly so he wouldn’t feel my arousal against his leg.
It was a damned good thing his hand was still on the small of my back when he smirked at me before pressing those full lips against my forehead. Heat flared through my body, and I couldn’t guarantee I hadn’t whimpered. That wasn’t where I wanted to feel his lips, but at the same time, it felt like the perfect gesture. Neither of us was in a place to rush anything, and he was respecting me.
That counted for something. Maybe everything.
I followed Carson to the door, grabbing his jacket from the front closet and holding it out to him. “Thanks for a great night.”
“I feel like I’m the one who should be thanking you. All I did was show up.” I didn’t even try hiding my appreciation as he shrugged into his jacket. And when he opened his arms, I went willingly, slipping my arms inside his jacket. His embrace was comforting, safe, and oddly something akin to familiar. He leaned back, looking down at me. I held my breath, wondering if he would kiss me for real this time. Instead, he did something that meant even more. “I know it’s probably weird to even ask, but if you seriously want to see the Langsford insanity that is our cookie tradition, I’d love for you to join us this weekend. I know you might have to work, but if you don’t, I could pick you up. We start early, but Mom makes sure to keep us well-fed and caffeinated.”
It was refreshing to know I wasn’t the only one who rambled. Like he’d done to me before, I pressed a finger against his lips. “I’d be honored. I mean, as long as your family isn’t going to think it’s something like a declaration of our undying love or something.”
Carson’s chest vibrated as a deep laugh escaped his lips. “Definitely not. I’m pretty sure they’ve given up on me finding love. They’re pretty chill. They won’t make any assumptions.”
“Then I’d love to join you.” And if I could manage it, I’d have a surprise of my own for the family.
11
EZRA
If I wantedto surprise Carson and his family, I had a lot of work to get through, and there was no way I could accomplish it in my tiny galley kitchen at the apartment. That meant asking Shiloh’s permission to stay Friday after I finished with prep work for the weekend. And that meant telling him what I was up to.
I waited until Lacey was out front getting ready for the lunch rush before approaching him. He was working on mixing the sourdough for tomorrow’s loaves. Like most things he created, they’d become crazy popular, and over time, it was more and more work for him. What had been one big container of dough when I’d started had tripled just in the time I’d worked for him, and we’d still be out by the end of the day.
“Hey, Shiloh, can I bend your ear for a second?” I asked as I pulled out the rolling flour bin to help him. He insisted on doing all the mixing and folding himself, but we had a process down where I was at least trusted to measure out the dry ingredients for him.
