“Happy to help.” And I am, I realize. Genuinely happy to use my skills for someone who actually appreciates them. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you saved me from a gingerbread-related breakdown.”
“Speaking of which,” Bea says, disappearing into the back. She returns with a small box. “For your construction project. Add some graham crackers instead of gingerbread. Much more stable. And some of my special royal icing—the kind that actually works.”
I accept the box, touched by her thoughtfulness. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you. You’ve done more in one afternoon than I could have managed in a week.” She hesitates, fidgeting with her apron. “Actually, I’ve been thinking…”
“Yes?”
“Any chance you’d consider a job? Here, I mean. In the bakery.”
I blink in surprise. “You mean like a permanent position?”
“I know it’s crazy. You’re just visiting, and you probably have a fancy job back home, but…” She gestures to the newly organized desk. “You’re exactly what this place needs. Someone who knows how to keep things running smoothly.”
“That’s really flattering, but I’m only here for the holidays.”
“Right, of course.” She waves her hand dismissively. “Just thought I’d ask.”
But as I drive back to Perfect Pines with Bea’s box of graham crackers and icing, the offer lingers in my mind. A job at a small-town bakery. Regular hours. Appreciation for my work. Thescent of chocolate and peppermint surrounding me, instead of Marcus’s expensive cologne.
It’s a ridiculous thought. I have a career. Benefits. A condo payment.
Still, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to wake up every morning and walk to Mistletoe Bakery, to be greeted by the smell of fresh pastries and Bea’s kind smile.
The Grand Cabin is still dark when I return. I set Bea’s box on the counter and pull out ingredients for lasagna. I’m not sure the guys have eaten yet, but I’ll make extra just in case.
I chop vegetables for the sauce while humming along to Frosty the Snowman.
The front door creaks open not long after, bringing with it a gust of cold air and the sound of male voices. My heart does a little flip at the scent of dark chocolate, cedar, and old books mingling in the entryway.
“Something smells amazing,” Finn calls out.
I smile. Tonight belongs to pasta, new friends, and the small victory of choosing my own happiness, one scone at a time.
13
Gabe
Isink into the couch, belly full of Melody’s delicious pasta, and watch as Finn deals cards with dramatic flair onto the coffee table.
Seeing the two of them sitting cross-legged on the floor fills me with warmth. Finn’s animated gestures, Melody’s laughter that comes easier with each passing hour—it’s a scene I could watch for hours.
I’m perfectly content being the silent observer.
“You’re cheating!” Melody accuses Finn, slapping her cards down.
“I would never,” Finn gasps, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I am a paragon of virtue. A beacon of honesty.”
“You literally just pulled a card out of your sleeve.”
“That was… a creative strategy.”
I hide my smile behind my coffee mug.
“Gabe,” Melody turns to me, her big blue eyes sparkling. “Tell your boyfriend he’s a cheater.”
Her vanilla-clove scent wafts toward me with the movement, and I inhale deeply before I can stop myself. It’s getting harder to pretend I don’t notice it, that it doesn’t affect me.
