Crabby.
Cantankerous–ooh, that was a good one.
She tipped her head, considering him as he helped Lizzie roll the dough to a half-inch thick. His hair fell over his forehead, shading his eyes from her view.
Shy. That worked, too.
He was shy.
She drew in a breath.
Well, crikey! There was nothing wrong with being shy.
Her heart went out to the guy. Being a single parent wasn’t for the faint of heart, and obviously, he loved his daughter more than he loved himself because he was here, in her drafty basement apartment on a cold winter’s night, for Lizzie.
Not to get to know Charlotte. No. It wasn’tinterestshe’d seen in his eyes a few moments ago; it was gratitude. He was thankful she’d put some time into his little girl. That was all.
She handed a candy cane-shaped cookie cutter to Lizzie. “Try this one.”
Micah gave her a small smile, and she felt like she’d won a grand prize. With all of them working, the cookies were baked, cooled, and decorated in no time. Charlotte carefully arranged a dozen of them in a plastic container, which she entrusted to Lizzie’s careful hands. She then wrapped two more on a small paper plate and put it on top. “This is for you to share with a friend.”
Lizzie’s eyebrows went up. “Really?”
“It’s tradition. We always share what we bake.” Charlotte wiped a bit of frosting off her fingers with a kitchen towel. “Every Christmas, my next-door neighbor delivers something homemade to the entire block.”
It was Micah’s turn to lift both brows. “Seriously? Seems like a lot of work.”
Charlotte laughed. “Rose does most of the baking on Christmas Eve.” Thoughts of orange rolls, cinnamon rolls, and egg casserole came to mind; their delicious flavors teasing her thoughts. “There’s something special about receiving a gift from the oven.”
“Isn’t the phrase: A gift from the heart?” Micah asked.
Lizzie giggled at his confusion. She was such a delightful little girl. Charlotte wondered what had happened to her mother.
“It’s the same thing,” she joked.
Micah didn’t smile. He nodded as he slipped his arms into his coat. “We should get going.”
Lizzie leaned into Charlotte, the closest thing she could do to hugging her with her hands full. “Thank you. This was the most perfect cookie night ever.”
Micah’s head popped up, and he stared at his little girl. “What did you say?” he asked with a note of awe and wonder.
“It was the perfect cookie night,” Lizzie beamed.
Micah blinked and then shook his head like he couldn’t quite believe they’d accomplished such a thing.
Charlotte hugged Lizzie back. “You are welcome. I hope you have a very merry Christmas.”
Lizzie beamed. “You too.”
Charlotte opened the door for Lizzie. She shuffled past, her feet slow because it was close to bedtime. Her wish wiggled and fought to pull away from Charlotte’s wish, as if they were magnets that couldn’t break apart. It was more like it was torn between staying with Charlotte’s wish and going with Lizzie. When it finally figured it out, it bobbed up the steps behind her.
Instead of following his daughter, Micah stopped and touched Charlotte’s arm. The scent of his woodsy cologne or aftershave that had teased her all evening washed over her, and she fought the urge to lean into him and just breathe.
“Thank you for giving her the perfect cookie night,” he whispered, his low voice doing funny things to her stomach. Like she’d stood in front of a giant bass drum, and someone had hit the side, sending the sound waves right through her. “Perfect doesn’t happen often in her world.” He gave her a lopsided grin that made her insides mush.
“Hm-mm,” she replied, unable to form a complete thought, let alone a word. His broad shoulders and brooding dark eyes were like sipping spiked eggnog on a fuzzy blanket while Bing Crosby croonedHave Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. Not that she knew what that was like–but she’d imagined it more than once.
He looked down at his hand as if he wasn’t sure how it had made contact with her in the first place. Jerking away, he stomped up the stairs.
