Page 61
Because he’d seen her face change when she realized. He’d watched the answer land. For one unguarded second, Emily Whitaker hadn’t looked like his rival, his biggest headache, or the woman standing between him and a victory he fully intended to enjoy.
She had looked like someone who had been desperately trying to find her way back to something she loved.
And he was glad she’d found it.
He wasn’t sure what that said about him.
He was fairly certain he didn’t want to find out.
He had deliveries to make and a meeting with the mayor. He did not have time to think about Emily Whitaker, her nana’s cookies, or the fact that he was still smiling.
What the hell had this woman done to him?
And how long before he made her smile like that again?
TWENTY-ONE
EMILY
Friday, December 18th
It was past ten and Emily had her hands shoved deep in her coat pockets, her chin tucked against her scarf. Maple Falls was quiet around her, blanketed beneath a fresh layer of snow that made the whole town look softer than it had any right to at that hour. Downtown glittered beneath strands of warm white lights looped from lamppost to lamppost, each one wrapped in garlands and finished with an enormous red bow. The shop windows glowed on either side of the street, their holiday displays still lit for anyone passing by after hours.
She told herself she was thinking about tomorrow’s bake-off. About the recipe, and nothing else.
She was not thinking about the way Cole had taken one bite and known exactly what was missing.
Or the strange, breathless rush that had gone through her when he’d handed her the answer to a mystery she’d been trying to solve for years.
He had helped her.
Cole Alders, her sworn enemy, had given her the one thing that might cost him the bake-off.
The bakery had been closed for two hours, but she’d stayed late in her kitchen, running one more test batch, adjusting ratios, writing everything down. By the time she’d cleaned up and turned off the stove, it was quarter past ten and the lot behind the bakery was dark and her car—her reliable, dependable, never-let-her-down 4x4—had made a sound like a dying animal when she turned the key and then made no sound at all.
Dead battery. The cold had killed it, the same way it had killed Mrs. C.’s and half the vehicles in town this week.
She’d sat in the driver’s seat for a moment, hands on the wheel, staring at the dashboard.
She could call Zach. She could call Madison. She could call any one of her friends and they’d come get her without complaint.
She could also walk. It was thirty minutes. She’d done it a hundred times.
And everyone had worked so hard this week, she’d hate to add another thing for someone else to do. So she walked.
Zoe’s flower shop was dressed in evergreen swags and cranberry-red ribbon, with a wreath on the door made of pine cones, dried orange slices, and tiny gold bells. Across the street, the Maple Leaf Café had painted snowflakes in the corners of its windows, and a chalkboard sign promising peppermint hot chocolate with extra whipped cream.
Even the town’s fountain had been wrapped in lights.
Emily was taking it all in, trying to get her mind on Christmas and nothing else, when the man on her mind appeared.
Cole was coming up the sidewalk with Captain at his side, one hand tucked into the pocket of his dark winter coat, the other holding the leash. He had a knit hat pulled low over his cropped dark hair, snow catching on his shoulders and melting against the stubble along his jaw. He looked solid and warm against all that white, like the kind of man who knew how to fix frozen pipes, carry firewood, and ruin a perfectly peaceful walk home without even trying.
Captain reacted first, lunging forward as if Emily were his favorite person, front paws landing on her coat before Cole yanked the leash back.
“Captain. Off.”
Captain got off, but kept his nose pressed to Emily’s hand. She scratched his ears automatically, because she was not made of stone, and looked up at Cole.
