She lifted her hand. Instead of flying around, it rose slowly into the air and bounced softly off Charlotte’s wish like a younger brother trying to annoy his older sibling.
“Do you think they can behave together?” Charlotte asked Lizzie.
Lizzie shrugged.
Her dad tapped her on the shoulder. “What Christmas things don’t I like to do?”
Lizzie sighed as if dealing with a petulant child.
Charlotte covered her smile with her hand. He was cute when confused–his forehead wrinkled slightly, and his eyes grew more intense. She cocked her head to the side. He was totally hot just standing there, but the way he took every word that dropped from Lizzie’s mouth so seriously was downright adorable.
“Making cookies,” Lizzie answered quickly. She had that honest way about her that children have before they develop a filter.
He rolled his eyes. “We don’t have the counter space, and flour gets everywhere.”
“See!” Lizzie pointed at him while looking to Charlotte for empathy. “He doesn’t understand what it’s really about.”
“I do see.” Charlotte nodded. A part of her heart went out to the little girl. As a true believer, her childhood had been cradled inside a house full of Christmas love and magic. Being an adult believer was much more difficult in some ways. The teenage years were the worst. She’d had to hide to write a letter to Santa, and her mom thought she was semi-silly when she continued to bake and put out a plate of cookies on Christmas Eve.
“What?” he looked down at his plain gray shirt and jeans as if he could see what she and Lizzie saw as clearly as a stain on his shirt. There wasn’t one. His shirt was ironed and fit quite nicely over his muscular chest in a way that had Charlotte’s cheeks burning whenever her gaze lingered in that direction.
Charlotte did her best not to let her eyes follow his and glance over his body. He wasn’t a gym fanatic by any means, but he was fit and strong and … . She yanked her eyes back up. She’d told herself not to look, and yet she’d gone ahead and done it, anyway. When their eyes met again, his gleamed with the satisfaction of a male lion in the wilds of Africa. Dang, it all to Candy Land! He’d caught her looking. She was not just looking, but appreciating.
“I want to make cookies with you,” Lizzie pronounced. She slipped her hand inside Charlotte’s free one. It was small and full of trust.
Charlotte’s heart melted. How could she say no? Every Christmas-loving part of her wanted to nurture this little one’s Christmas spirit. She opened her mouth to reply but didn’t get the chance.
“Lizzie. We don’t have the counter space,” her dad admonished her softly–as if it hurt him to turn her down.
Firm but gentle. Just like her dad used to be, she couldn’t remember when he’d raised his voice to her or at her–even when she’d blown out the electrical box in the basement because she put up too many Christmas lights.
“I do.” Charlotte blurted before his censure could take effect. She cringed internally. She shouldn’t have jumped all over his dad moment. “Sorry. I. What I meant to say was that I have plenty of room, and I’d love it if you’d join me to make the best Christmas cookies ever,” she chanced a look at the guy, and her stomach flipped at the interest in his gaze, “both of you. For cookie making.” She drew a deep breath. “I’m excellent at baking,” she added quickly, as if she needed to verify her credentials.
Lizzie bounced, hardly able to contain herself. “Please, Dad.”
Charlotte copied Lizzie’s wide-eyed, pleading face.
“How can I say no to that?” He grumbled. Talk about a tough cookie. “Besides, if this will help make Christmas perfect this year, then I’m game.”
Charlotte offered Lizzie a triumphant fist bump with her free hand.
“Perhaps I should get your name and number?” he continued all business during their celebration.
“I’m Charlotte Morris. I own The Christmas Shop on Main Street.” She rattled off the information. Owning the shop had become as much a part of her identity as her name. She gave him her number, and he texted her. She opened her contacts to add him and raised an eyebrow, waiting for his name. The moment felt more significant than just a quick exchange in the grocery store, and Charlotte’s hands shook.
“I’m Micah Bowman.” He smiled for the first time, revealing perfectly straight teeth.
Charlotte stared. And stared. And stared.
Her wish shook in her grasp, startling her out of the daze Micah’s smile had sent her into. She hurried to type his name.
“I know the perfect cookies.” She’d have to call her mom to get the recipe and pick up a few more items on the baking aisle. “Shall we say seven?” She texted her address, and his phone beeped.
“Seven?” He blanched. “We need to get moving. Come on, Lizzie.” He motioned for her to push the cart.
She set her wish in the baby seat in the front. “Bye, Charlotte. We’ll see you tonight.” She waved, looking a little too grown up for a little girl.
Micah hesitated, brooding in a completely distracting and attractive way. “I can’t believe my manners. Is there anything we can bring?”
