Tag: holidays

Two days left. Rowan had forty-eight hours remaining to get out of her rut. She stared wide-eyed into her coffee mug, one eyebrow lifted in defeated skepticism. There was no way she could fix this in two days. It’d been weeks.

The house that had been her aunt’s enveloped her in silence. Normally, it would be comforting. But it was four in the morning and she should be getting ready for work. Instead, she felt frozen in her seat at Aunt Katherine’s breakfast nook.

What would Aunt Katherine do?

That was the question that kept circling Rowan’s thoughts. As far as she knew, her aunt had never so much as burned a cake. She was sure a young Katherine had her share of botched recipes, but stretching back to her childhood, standing on the same bench she currently sat on while helping “Auntie” mix the batter for banana bread, she couldn’t recall a single mishap. Katherine had a gift. Rowan used to have the same gift, but it seemed as if the universe had changed its mind.

Maybe she didn’t deserve it.

She had, after all, been ungrateful. She’d run away to New Jersey after graduating high school, when her aunt gave her job away to someone else. For two whole years, Rowan hadn’t spoken to anyone in her family—other than a few phone conversations with her aunt. But she hadn’t visited, and she hadn’t called nearly as much as she should have. And then Katherine died.

Just like that.

And now Rowan couldn’t even honor her memory by winning the Christmas cheer contest.

She slumped in her seat and laid her head down on the table. The wood felt cool against her skin. Maybe she was beating herself up too much. Maybe it wasn’t really that important.

“Yeah right,” she mumbled into the table.

Still, life had to go on. She was the owner of a bakery—and it was Christmas time. There were two days left until the competition, and four days left until Christmas. Which meant that Elli’s had lots of orders to fulfill.

Good thing Matt wasn’t burning cookies.

Rowan forced herself to get up from the table. She took her mug to the sink and rinsed it out, smiling as she remembered Katherine’s cardinal rule. There was no time to wash it before she headed out, though. She could just hear her aunt chiding her.

She made it to Elli’s just as Matt pulled up in his pickup. Their routine was familiar, comfortable. She wouldn’t change a thing about their relationship. As she slid out of her car, she wondered if he felt the same. Christmas was, after all, prime engagement season. They’d only been together a few months, though. She grimaced. She thought she knew Matt pretty well, but if he planned on proposing . . .

She shook away the thoughts. Her already building anxiety could not get a full grip on her. She wouldn’t let it.

Joining Matt at the Elli’s entrance, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips. They were soft, full, and warm. She felt every atom of her skin melting into him, her lips magnetized to his. It felt like it’d been years since their last kiss.

“Come on,” he whispered against her lips. “Time to get to work.”

She pouted. “Just one more minute?”

Grinning, he unlocked the door behind her, then shooed her in. “Nope. It’s time to break that curse.”

Rowan groaned. “I don’t think it can be broken.” Still, she followed him inside.

“I’ll handle the breads and all that,” he said as she hung up her coat.

She lifted an eyebrow at him. “You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not that. I just don’t want you to feel pressured to take care of everything.”

Even though she wanted to argue, she couldn’t deny the little squeeze in her heart at his words. “Okay.”

Matt smirked. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” She donned her pastry chef jacket and rubbed her hands together. Not for the first time ever, she mused, she’d really thrown him for a loop. “Okay.” She glanced around at the kitchen. She didn’t know where to start.

“I’ll let you do your magic,” he said, disappearing into the back hall.

“Wait. Where are you going?”

He closed the office door behind him.

Frowning, she stared. Though she knew it was wrong, everything in her wanted to press her ear to that door and see what he was doing in there. But they were partners—in more than one way. She had to trust him.

She grabbed the ingredients for brownies and spread them out on the stainless steel counter. She couldn’t screw those up. Not very long ago, she’d made her newly perfected recipe for dinner on yet another lonely bachelorette night. She’d spent the evening waiting on drunk customers at the diner in New Jersey that she used to work at. A soft smile touched her lips. She didn’t miss that part of the job, but she had loved that little diner.

It wasn’t her destiny, though.

She set to it, stirring and humming, determined to wow the town with her special brownies. The recipe had even won some blog awards—though she hadn’t found out until a month earlier. She couldn’t even remember submitting it anywhere. Something told her that Matt had done it without her knowing.

Twenty minutes later, when the brownies were in the oven, Matt still hadn’t come out of the office. Rowan hesitated in the middle of the kitchen, debating. Technically it was her office too. Her birthright, even—Katherine had passed the place on to both of them, but she wasn’t Matt’s aunt. She was Rowan’s.

Not that she wanted to stoop down and play that card.

Still, the curiosity was getting to her. From behind the door, she could hear Matt’s muffled voice. He was on the phone with someone. Maybe he was just ordering from their vendors. But then why close the door? There was no reason to shut her out.

If he was going to start the ciabatta, it’d have to be soon. Lips twisted to the side, she wrestled with bursting in or listening in. They’d been dating for several months—six if she didn’t count the two months they were broken up. She’d never had any reason to not trust him.

But maybe it wasn’t about their relationship at all.

Maybe, considering her baking funk, he was looking for another job. Tilly’s Café was going to clobber Elli’s during the contest. And they had seen a decline in business—even if only tiny. If she couldn’t get it together and stop burning things, she’d lose more than her pride.

She sniffed the air.

“Dammit!”

She turned on her heels and darted toward the oven. Yanking the door open, she peered in. What was supposed to be a perfect pan of brownies was an uneven, half-charred mess.

Rowan pulled it out of the oven and tossed it onto the stove. She’d been so preoccupied, she hadn’t been watching the time or paying attention to the scent.

That was it.

She was ruined.

It was all over.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Katherine,” she whispered. She tugged off the pastry chef jacket and tossed it into the laundry bin. Only months earlier, she’d done the same—back when she’d first lost Katherine and found out she and Matt had to take the place over. They couldn’t get along, no matter how hard they’d tried. It was just too painful, given their past. Back then, she’d thought she’d have to go back to New Jersey with her tail tucked between her legs.

If she lost Elli’s after all that, she didn’t know what she’d do. There was no diner in Jersey to go back to. Her old boss, Sean, had sold the building to a certain giant diner franchise and retired on the hefty profit. What had been Sean’s was now a corporate diner with freezer-burned food and below minimum-wage pay.

And she sure as hell couldn’t get a job as a pastry chef anywhere—not with her recent trail of failures streaking behind her.

With a sigh, she left the kitchen, relegating herself to the dining room. At least up front she could put herself to use cleaning the cases, mopping the floors and, when they were open, serving customers.

That was the only solution. Matt would have to take over the baking, and she’d handle all of the administrative and customer service stuff.

Tears pooled in her eyes. She didn’t want to give up baking. It was her first love. Her only love, really—no offense to Matt. She laughed ruefully. Without baking, she was nothing.

Just another girl from New England with a useless college degree and a long record of failures.

---


Rowan watched her only customers for the evening walk to their car. It’d long stopped snowing, so the parking lot wasn’t slick anymore, but she still worried over them like a mother hen. They were elderly, and she couldn’t not watch them. Mr. and Mrs. Kostenko had been coming to Elli’s long before she’d been old enough to talk, never mind bake. Usually they came in the morning for their first cup of coffee of the day, but lately they’d been coming in the evening for dessert instead. Rowan suspected they were going to Tilly’s for their coffee.
She turned back to the empty front room. Though it was normal for Elli’s to have a lull at this hour, the jealous part of her imagined all of her customers over at the new bakery.

Whistling, Matt strolled into the room. He marched past her and flipped their sign to the CLOSED side.

“What are you doing?” she asked, whirling on him. “And where have you been?” He’d disappeared again, this time from the property entirely.

“Just sit.”

“Not gonna happen.” She crossed her arms. “What is going on, Matt? Are you leaving Elli’s?”

He blinked. “What? I’m not going anywhere. Please, sit.” He gestured to a table.

Brow furrowed, arms still crossed, she walked over to the table and slipped into a seat.

“Put this on.” He handed her a blindfold.

Accepting the silky cloth, she eyed him. “Is this some weird submissive thing you’ve gotten into?”

His lips twitched. “No, but maybe we’ll hang onto it for later.” He waved at her. “Just put it on.”

“Just do this, just do that. So bossy,” she said, but slid the eye mask on. The dining room disappeared. She shifted uncomfortably. Her anxiety was at an all-time high lately. The last thing she needed was to be kept in the dark—literally. “Hello?” she called.

“Just one more minute,” came Matt’s voice.

She heard shuffling around, a hushed giggle, the crinkle of tissue paper. Her frown reversed into a smile, lips pressed together to keep herself from uttering a delighted laugh. He was up to something, but it was nothing like she’d thought. It was something for her. Her heart squeezed in her chest, ribbons of delight twirling through her.

“Okay,” Matt said. “Take it off.”

She hesitated. Whatever it was, she wanted to savor it. To delight in the moment completely. Swallowing hard, she listened. Nothing in the room moved. Not a single hint. She sniffed the air. The only thing she could smell was the soft, warm scent of crisp pine, like a real Christmas tree—almost, but not quite. She pressed her lips together, trying to puzzle it out.

“You can take that off now, Ro. Really.”

“Just one more minute,” she said, and he laughed.

When she’d soaked in enough of the velvety darkness and the mysterious sparkling pine scent, she pulled the blindfold off.

The front room had been transformed into the most romantic Christmas settings she’d ever seen. Fairy lights twinkled in the darkness, creating a bokeh effect and enveloping the room in soft light. A small faux Christmas tree stood in the center, white lights sparkling. Red bows adorned its branches, and under the tree were a pile of gifts wrapped in silver paper. She’d had no idea Matt could wrap.

Most surprising of all were the people standing around the tree.

Matt, his little brother Danny, and Charlotte stood in one cluster—and Rowan’s own siblings stood in another. Though Leo and Mia looked slightly uncomfortable, the Christmas magic that glimmered in their eyes was unmistakable. Even Mia, who ordinarily unrelentingly teased Rowan, seemed content to be there.

“What is this?” Rowan glanced from face to face. Her eyes skimmed over a buffet table laden with covered food warmed by Sterno. Several of the dining tables had been set for dinner, with a small Yankee Candle lit in the center of each—Sparkling Pine, her favorite holiday scent.

Somehow, he’d known.

“This,” Matt said, “is the first annual Ellis-Hayes Christmas dinner. And Butler,” he added, gesturing to Charlotte. She grinned, bouncing a little on her heels.

Rowan tilted her head, then her eyes widened as understanding dawned. “Mom and Dad still go away for their annual cruise?”

Leo shrugged and looked away.

“Of course they do,” Mia said. “We all know they never really wanted to be parents.”

Rowan sighed. She’d felt like she and her parents—especially her father—had come to an understanding. But some people just weren’t family people. She peeked at Matt. Someday, she promised herself, she would create her own version of the family she’d always wanted.

Matt removed the lids to the trays containing food. Suddenly her senses were assaulted by all sorts of delicious scents: roasted potatoes, lasagna, ham with pineapples, and baked broccoli topped with cheese and crumbled Ritz crackers. Her mouth watered.

“Charlotte?” She gaped at her best friend. “Did you do all this?”

“Yep!” Tendrils of red hair bounced as Charlotte did a happy dance. She gestured for everyone to go get food.

Rowan let them all go ahead. She crossed the room to Matt and wrapped him in a hug. “Thank you,” she murmured, her head tucked into his chest.

Cupping her head, he stroked her hair. “Merry Christmas, Ro.”

---


Stuffed from Charlotte’s delicious dinner, and intoxicated by all the good cheer from gifts being opened, Rowan pushed her chair back. “I’ve gotta walk, or I’ll turn into a ball,” she said, slipping into her comfy new UGGs.

She ambled into the kitchen, running her fingers along the stainless steel counters. Katherine would love that her bakery had hosted so much joy in it. Sighing contentedly, she gazed around the room. Laughter drifted in from the front. A soft smile touched her lips. She never would’ve thought her and Matt’s families would get along so well. Even Mia had behaved, keeping her innuendos to herself and focusing on the family activities.

Maybe there was hope for her and her sister, after all, Rowan mused.

One thing had been missing from their dinner, though: dessert. After such a rich dinner, they would need something light. Fluffy, but delectable. Something reminiscent of the holiday season.

She strolled around the kitchen, plucking ingredients that reminded her of winter warmth from the shelves. Cocoa to mix into a mousse, for the nice hot cup she enjoyed after shoveling out her car. Candy canes to crush, to sprinkle along the top. Her entire body started to hum, her mind already concocting the creation as she went into The Zone—that far off rabbit hole she fell into while inventing new recipes.

Matt sometimes called it her Looney Tunes hole.

Her hands got to work, whipping and crushing and drizzling. She grabbed white mugs and filled them with the creamy creation, sprinkled the bits of candy cane on top, and drizzled it with hot fudge. She stuck spoons into each one and arranged them on a tray.

Then, body vibrating with anticipation, she carried it out to the dining room.

“I know Santa’s not real,” Danny insisted. “Just come out with it already.”

Matt sighed. “All right, fine. But can you just play along for Mom? She’s really looking forward to this. She thinks it’s going to be your last Christmas.”

“You want me to lie?” Danny’s eyes bulged.

“Santa,” Charlotte gently intervened, “is a feeling. You won’t be lying.”

Danny eyed her suspiciously.

Matt turned in his seat, his gaze snagging on Rowan. “What’s this?”

Grinning, she set the tray down on the table. “Oh, just a little something.”

The group passed the mugs around.

“Should I be scared?” Matt asked, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“Oh stop,” she said. “It’s broken. I’ve killed the curse!”

“I’ll believe it,” Charlotte said, “when I taste it.” Slowly she lifted a spoonful of mousse to her lips.

Exchanging confused glances, Mia and Leo each took a bite.

“This is amazing, Ro,” Matt said. He pushed his chair back and swept her into his arms, swinging her in a circle. “You’re going to crush Tilly’s with this!”

“What’s Tilly’s?” Danny asked.

“A bakery,” Matt said, “that used to be our competition.”

---


Bouncing from foot to foot, Rowan tried to sooth her frazzled nerves. The Christmas cheer contest judging had begun. The town clerk had already set out, going from business to business with a panel of judges. Though Matt had decorated the inside of Elli’s and strung up lights outside, she was still nervous.
She’d built on her recipe from the night before, this time putting the mousse into clear tall mugs and alternating red peppermint-flavored mousse and the cocoa mousse, with the crushed candy canes sprinkled on top and a whole candy cane tucked into the side. Silver spoons were the final touch. Any minute, the town clerk would come by to taste her dessert. For all she knew, Tilly had come up with something even more dazzling. After all, Tilly wasn’t burning cakes and cookies.

Matt pressed a hot coffee into her hands. “Here. Drink this. Please.”

She shook her head. “I’m already wired.” She put the tall Starbucks cup down.

“It’ll be okay.” He kissed her temple. “Look. There she is now.”

Swallowing hard, Rowan straightened as the door to Elli’s opened. The bells jingled, but she didn’t need an announcement to let her know the town clerk was there.

Lindsay Taylor had been Watertown’s town clerk for years. She’d been the one to approve Katherine’s permit, and she’d helped Rowan and Matt get everything straightened out after Katherine’s death. Rowan shouldn’t be nervous, but she was. So much hinged on the contest.

“Good morning, Mrs. Taylor,” she called out.

“How long have we known each other?” Lindsay clucked her tongue, graying hair bobbing as she shook her head. “Please call me Lindsay.”

“Okay Mrs. Taylor.”

Sighing in theatrical drama, Lindsay made her way to the table where Rowan displayed the mugs of mousse. “These are pretty.”

The judges nodded their agreement.

Taking a deep breath, Rowan passed them around. She wanted to close her eyes, to not see their faces. She’d tasted it, of course, and knew it was good, but still. It was only mousse.

The door opened again, bells knocking into each other.

Tilly burst inside, her usually carefully arranged scarf and hat askew. “Mrs. Taylor,” she gasped. “I was just wondering when you were going to get to Tilly’s. We’re so excited to have you!”

Rowan suppressed a groan. Beside her, Matt squeezed her hand.

Lindsay frowned. “Tilly Grahn?” From her short stature, she had to squint up at the woman. “From over where Victoria’s Chocolate Café used to be?”

“That’s me!” Tilly beamed. Her eyes slid over to Rowan quickly, and Rowan swore she winked.

“Diabolical,” Rowan muttered.

“Ms. Grahn, I was planning on stopping by your establishment last. Do you realize your temporary alcoholic beverages permit has expired? I’ve sent you several notices. I see you’re still serving, though.”

Tilly blanched. “I . . . What?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Grahn,” Linsday said, “but I’m going to have to close you down.”

Eyes bulging, Tilly stared.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for my annual dessert.” Lindsay winked at Rowan. “Elli’s Christmas cheer is the only sweet I allow myself all year.” Lifting the spoon to her lips, she took a bite of the mousse. A soft sigh hummed through her lips. “Oh, Rowan . . . This is amazing.” She turned to the judges.

They all nodded in agreement.

“I believe we have a winner.”

Tilly stomped out of the bakery.

Lindsay pressed a Santa-shaped trophy into Rowan’s hands, then sat down at a table with the rest of her mousse.

Feeling as if she might be dreaming, Rowan read the engraving on the trophy. “Mrs. Taylor?”

“Seriously, child. Call me Lindsay! I’m the same age as your aunt.”

“Okay, but Mrs. Taylor, this has Elli’s engraved as the winner.” She held up the trophy.

“Of course it does,” Lindsay said. “Elli’s always wins.” She turned back to her mousse.

“See?” Matt whispered, wrapping Rowan into a hug. “You’ve just got to believe in yourself.”

Leaning into him, inhaling the crisp scent of his cologne, the candles burning throughout the bakery, and the chocolatey scent of the mousse the judges were devouring, Rowan closed her eyes. Between the night before and winning the contest in Katherine’s memory, everything was perfect. She wished it didn’t have to be over so soon. “Just one more Christmas?” she asked Matt.

He lifted her chin and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I thought you’d never ask.”

---


The next afternoon—Christmas Eve—snow started to fall as they closed Elli’s for Christmas break. Matt walked Rowan to her car, her arm tucked into his.

“So, I don’t mean to impose, but I thought we could pick up some takeout and I’d spend the night. You know, for just one more Christmas,” he said.

She grinned. “I was actually going to suggest you stay over.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay what?”

“We’ll take my truck.” Changing direction, he led her toward the pickup.

“But what about my car?” She glanced over her shoulder at her snow-covered Honda.

“We can pick it up later tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I figured we’d have another Christmas—breakfast with my mom and Danny.”

Tugging her arm free, Rowan threw both arms around his neck. They slid on the slick pavement, gliding straight back into Matt’s pickup. She pressed him into the truck, sprinkling his lips and cheeks with kisses. “How are you so perfect?”

“Oh, just wait,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve got a whole lifetime to devote to you.”

Though she kind of wanted to swat at him for the cheesy line, she resisted. Besides, it was working. She was practically swooning.

With his assistance, she hopped into the passenger side of his worn pickup. He slid into the driver’s side and blasted the heat. It would be a while before the old truck got moving.

She scooted across the seat and, cupping his chin, turned his face toward hers. “I love you,” she told him, heart thudding in her chest.

She did not expect him to say anything. She hadn’t exactly planned on dropping those three little words. Though she knew they both shared similar feelings, neither of them had ever actually said the phrase out loud. The moment just felt right, though.

Still, part of her hoped he wouldn’t leave her hanging.

A slow grin spread across his face. “I love you too, Ro,” he said, sounding surprised.

Lips curling into a smile, she kissed him. With the snow falling in fat flakes, and the blast from the vents brushing her hair back, the moment was perfect. Their lips met, a slow and familiar dance.

His hands went to her waist, simultaneously drawing her closer and halting their kisses.

“What?” Rowan asked.

He chuckled. “Let’s get to your place.”

As soon as they got to her house, they shed snow-covered clothing and, grabbing the warmest throw blanket from the couch, headed into the bedroom. Matt pulled Rowan into his arms, wrapping the throw around them. Pressed against his chest, her skin to his, she felt more complete than she ever had.

He backed them toward the bed, laying her down gently. Large hands closing around her breasts, he swept his tongue across her lips.

“I love you, Rowan.” His mouth devoured hers.

She felt him pressing urgently against her, the heat from their passion a barrier against the weather outside.

He trailed hot, wet kisses down her throat. “I love you,” he growled.

Her fingernails dug into the bedspread.

His lips sucked in a nipple, tongue flicking it into a firm bud. “I love you.”

Drawing in a sharp breath, Rowan’s eyes fluttered closed. “This,” she gasped, “is the best Christmas present ever.”

Matt trailed kisses down the slope of her belly. “Oh, baby, I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

She smiled contentedly.

As their bodies connected, hearts beating as one, sparks flying between them, she saw dozens of Christmases ahead of them—each more perfect than the last. The circumstances would change. Someday they would be spending their Christmas Eve wrapping presents from Santa. The undeniable love between them, however, would only grow.

Entangled in each other’s arms, they drifted off to sleep, secure in the future they knew they would share.

The End



---

Thank you for reading “Just One More Christmas,” a holiday short story that takes place after Just One More Minute.

If you enjoyed this free book, please check out some of my other small town romances.

Just One More Minute · enemies to lovers bakery romance
Any Other Love · friends to lovers small town romance
The Stairs Between Us · a second chance divorce romance
set in the same small town

Stagwood Falls: Love in Ink Series
A small town tattoo shop romance
with a close-knit group of friends
Book 1: A Touch of Gold · friends to lovers
Book 2: Tattooed Heart · friends to lovers

A frustrated cry rang through the entire Elli’s building. Matt straightened from the shelves he squatted next to. He jotted down the number of bags of flour in Elli’s inventory, listening out for further distress. Seconds dripped by, and he started to think maybe Rowan had just stubbed her toe or something. She could be clumsy at times.

Rowan swore, the string of words reaching his ears. “Again?!” she howled.

Wincing, he put down his clipboard and headed out of the little storage room. He found Rowan slumped in defeat next to a burnt batch of candy cane cookies. “Oh no.” He reached out for her, but she turned, shoulders hunching in protective despair.

“I don’t get it,” she sobbed, her hands covering her face.

His heart ached for her. It was bad enough she’d been stuck in a baking rut. Burning Katherine’s special recipe was an assault on everything she held dear. He rubbed her back. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling helpless.

“I’m cursed,” she cried. “Ruined. I’ll never bake again!”

Matt frowned. He hated hearing her talk like that. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight. “Maybe you just need a break,” he said softly, kissing the top of her head. She smelled like her usual vanilla and sandalwood fragrance, but with an additional layer of peppermint.

“No.” She sniffled. “I have to try again.”

She pulled away, and he let her go, admiring her tenacity. Or maybe it was sheer stubbornness. He loved how important baking was to her, how she could whip up recipes out of nowhere. The defeated creature that had been crying a couple minutes ago was not the woman he adored. This Rowan—the one who was already laying out the ingredients for another go—was the person he admired. She just never gave up. He smiled. She’d kick this bad streak in no time.

“No,” she groaned.

“What’s wrong?”

“We’re out of eggs. How can we be out of eggs?” She threw her hands up. “Did I really go through four dozen already?”

Matt pressed his lips together.

She turned and faced him. “I’m killing our inventory.”

“You’re just working through this.”

“I’m a financial disaster!”

“It’s just eggs.”

He watched as she checked the walk-in. “And butter. Oh my God!” She spun on her heels. “You can’t let me do this anymore. I have to be stopped!”

A smile tugged at his lips. “You’re not an abomination.”

“I’m killing baked goods. I’m like a horde of zombies.”

“You’ve been watching way too much The Walking Dead.”

She sighed. “We don’t get a delivery until next week. I’ve gotta go to the store. Again.” She glanced around for her keys.

Matt held up a hand. “I’ll go. You . . . clean something. Or watch something on Netflix. Anything other than beating yourself up.”

“Are you saying that I’m a clean-aholic?”

“Yes. But if it helps . . .” He grinned.

“Maybe I’ll just go get another coffee.”

“Good. And call Charlotte,” he said. Something about Rowan’s best friend always calmed her down. Charlotte was pure magic.

She nodded. Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed a kiss to his lips. As her warmth tingled against his skin, he sighed. Kissing Rowan was magic. His arms automatically twined around her, and he pulled her tight against him. If the opportunity wasn’t so perfect, he would kiss away her worries. But his window was limited.

He pulled away and kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll be back soon.” He nodded to the tray of ruined cookies. “Toss ‘em. We’ll start over.”

“And what if I ruin them again? How will we win the contest?”

Matt grinned. “We’ll obnoxiously decorate the crap out of the place, and we’ll swoon them all with inflatable Santas.”

She swatted at him with a towel. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re beautiful.”

He kissed her again, then grabbed his coat and hurried out of the bakery. Outside, snow was still falling. Maybe he’d get lucky and it’d snow so hard, they’d end up snowed in for the night. Or at the very least, she’d be so into the romantic weather, she’d invite him to stay over her place. But first he had some things to take care of.

While he waited for his geriatric pickup to warm up, he sent out three texts. He almost felt guilty, like he was somehow deceiving Rowan for going behind her back. But he was desperate. He’d had months to prepare for this, yet he’d been completely unable to find the perfect gift for her.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried.

The girl had everything, including an entire bakery full of her favorite baking tools. What Elli’s hadn’t already had, she’d bought during the past six months with her own money. A new mixer came out in November and, before he could secretly buy one for her, she’d bought it for herself. Besides, he didn’t just want to get her a kitchen appliance. She was a strong woman, and even though baking was her passion, she was so much more than that. It’d be like a guy getting his wife of fifty years a vacuum cleaner. She deserved something amazing because she was amazing.

Buying her an engagement ring would be horribly cliché. Everyone got engaged during the holidays. It was almost expected, and when the time came, he wanted to really surprise her. Besides, he wasn’t entirely sure they were ready for that step. Things were good, but they’d barely been dating half a year. There was no rush.

He’d entertained the idea of getting her a promise ring, but he thought it was too soon. Besides, their relationship itself was a promise. Both of them knew they were it for each other. It was just a matter of time.

He needed help—and allies. Going behind her back was his only option.

Three replies came to him and he grinned. His team was assembled and ready. He threw the warm pickup into gear and pulled out of the Elli’s parking lot. Time was ticking, and he needed to move fast. If he took too long at the grocery store, she’d suspect something.

---


Matt picked up Leo, Rowan’s often surly eighteen-year-old brother. When Matt first got together with Rowan, she hadn’t been on good terms with her family. In the months since, she’d grown closer to them—even Leo. It turned out that, where her sister Mia was constantly trying to take everything away from Rowan, Leo adored her. He once begrudgingly admitted to Matt that Rowan had taught him all about music he wouldn’t have otherwise listened to. That, Matt knew, was a lot coming from the teenage boy.

“But don’t tell anyone I said that,” Leo had said. “I’ll deny it.”

Glancing at Leo, who sat huddled in his black Element hoodie, Matt suppressed a smile. The kid totally didn’t look like the type to listen to Kiiara, BANKS, or anything else his sister liked—especially since Rowan loved dance music and R&B. But he’d admitted it was “interesting” to listen to when he was hanging out by himself after a party, and that BANKS was actually “good at writing lyrics.”

“What’s so funny?” Leo asked, scowling at Matt.

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

He picked up his own little brother next. Danny was eleven and Matt was pretty sure he knew the truth about Santa. He figured his little brother needed every drop of Christmas magic he could get. Plus, Danny looked up to Rowan. She let him help her in the kitchen and even allowed him to lick the bowl. Matt’s mom had rarely baked during their childhood. After their dad passed away, she had even less energy to do typical mother/child activities. Danny had missed out on a lot of things. Every time Rowan handed him a spatula coated in raw brownie mix, the kid’s eyes lit up. Matt knew Danny would love to be involved with the surprise.

Danny squeezed into the tiny single seat in the back of the cab.

“You good back there?” Matt asked. The kid was shooting up. Soon he’d be too big.

Danny nodded.

“Seatbelt,” Matt instructed, glancing at Leo to make sure he put his back on. Once everyone was buckled in, he headed toward Frankie’s in Waterbury. It was the only place they could meet that he was positive Rowan wouldn’t go. She might run to Starbucks again or even a book store, but she hated the Chase Avenue traffic. Not that he could blame her. The city was still widening it and the construction choked up the already congested street. Plus, with the holiday shopping rush, it was even worse than usual. Rowan didn’t have the patience for standstill traffic. Matt wasn’t even sure he did. For the first time in months, he wished he had a cigarette.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Leo stick one between his lips.

He yanked it out of the kid’s mouth and tossed it out the window before Danny could see it.

“What—?!” Leo squawked.

Matt jerked his chin in the direction of the backseat and gave Leo a stern look.

“Oh.” Leo actually looked apologetic.

When their dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer, Danny had begged Matt to quit smoking. He’d kept his promise—and tried to shield Danny from other smokers. It bothered his little brother more than usual, and maybe it was a pointless thing to do. There were lots of smokers in the world, and not all of them would get sick with cancer. Danny was probably old enough to know that cigarettes weren’t the true enemy. But still.

The line of cars moved forward a whole ten feet. Matt could see the Frankie’s sign up ahead.

“We could literally ditch this truck and walk over there,” Leo grumbled. “I’m starving.”

Too true. “Me too,” Matt said in solidarity. “But we’re almost there, right Danny?” He smiled at his little brother in the rearview mirror.

Danny crossed his arms. “This traffic sucks.”

Apparently Danny was entering his own surly teenage years.

After what seemed like a century, the line of vehicles moved up enough so that Matt could take the left-hand turn into the restaurant parking lot. He hadn’t had Frankie’s in years. The hot dog franchise and its founding family was a Connecticut celebrity. It’d started off small during the Great Depression and quickly grown into an empire. Occasionally, Matt surmised, good things did come out of the struggling city of Waterbury.

He parked the pickup in the angled slots and jumped out. Too bad he couldn’t tell Rowan where he was. She loved Frankies’s fried broccoli.

Matt, Leo, and Danny strode inside in single file. He was the last in, and as he watched the two boys, a swell of emotion surged through his chest. They were slowly but surely becoming familiar with each other—becoming family. Maybe it was too soon to jump to such things, but he could easily see them ten or more years in the future, doing brotherly things together like playing paintball or going camping.

“We gonna order, or what?” Leo asked, bursting Matt’s daydream.

“Sir?” The young woman behind the counter lifted her eyebrows expectantly. Her brown eyes sparkled in merry amusement. The name tag on her uniform read Joan.

“Sorry.” Matt motioned for Danny and Leo to give their orders, then added his own. Again he thought of Rowan and her love for fried broccoli. If she ever found out he had some without her, she’d make him do the inventory again. Or worse. He gulped. It was a risk he was going to have to take.

It was worth it.

As they waited for their orders, the door opened and Charlotte breezed inside. She ran straight to the counter, throwing her arms around Joan’s neck. Her bright red hair bounced on her shoulders as the two women embraced.

“I haven’t seen you in years!”

“How the hell are you?!”

Matt smiled. It was truly magical, how even the smallest moments seemed so beautiful around this time of year.

“Why are you grinning like a lunatic?” Danny elbowed him.

He sighed. Somehow he was going to have to change the Debbie Downer duo’s moods.

Once the four of them had their food, they squeezed into the only table available.

“Move your elbows,” Danny said to Leo.

“I can’t help that I’m so big and need the space,” the older boy retorted. “Some of us still have growing to do.”

Danny scowled at him.

Charlotte gave Matt a knowing look from across the table. “So,” she said in between bites of her chili dog, “what have we got?”

“Absolutely nothing, which is why we’re all here.” He glanced from face to face. “You guys are just as close to Rowan as I am, if not more. I need ideas. And fast.”

“How about you ask her to marry you?” Leo smirked.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Cliché. You should know better than that, Leo. Rowan needs romance and swooning.”

He made a gagging face, Danny joining him.

Matt chewed a bite of his hot dog, trying not to regret bringing the boys along.

“I think,” Charlotte said, “you’re trying too hard to come up with one great big grand gesture.”

“You’re probably right,” he admitted.

“So let’s focus on finding little things, gifts that she can enjoy or use.” Charlotte pulled a notebook out of her bag.

Matt stared.

“What?”

“I just didn’t realize you carried a purse.”

She lifted an eyebrow at him. “So?”

“Rowan refuses to.”

Charlotte snorted. “Rowan is Rowan. The girl uses her car as a giant bag. Have you seen what’s in her center console?”

He shook his head.

“Dude. She has an entire extra stash of makeup in there, a Phillips and a flathead, a flashlight, and even a wooden spoon. God only knows what she’d need a spoon for while out and about.”

Matt grinned. That sounded like his girl.

“And don’t even get me started on the capsule wardrobe in her trunk. The only reason she doesn’t carry a purse is because there isn’t one on this planet that she can fit her entire life into.” Charlotte tapped her notebook. “Now, let’s focus.” She opened it to a page with a neat list.

“Wow.”

“Girl’s my best friend, Matty. You came to the right person.”

“The OCD person,” Leo said. He and Danny snickered.

Charlotte tossed them an icy look. “Now, I’ve divided this into categories: things Rowan has mentioned she wants, things I’ve noticed she really needs, and things she doesn’t need but would be really nice.”

Matt peered at the list. “UGGs?”

“Every girl needs UGGs, Matty.”

“She already has three pairs. And stop calling me Matty.”

“Yeah,” Danny said. “That’s my name for him.”

Charlotte held up her hands. “Okay, okay. Jeez.” She turned to Matt. “But seriously, these UGGs have a rubber sole with tread. She won’t go slipping and sliding in them.” She beamed.

“Okay. Boots. Great. What am I, her grandma?”

“You’re her boyfriend. It’s your job to keep our clumsy girl safe. And warm. Which brings me to this coat.” She tapped the notebook. “Ro’s allergic to wool, so she has a super hard time finding cute and warm outerwear. But I found one that’s lined with sherpa.”

His eyebrows knit together. “Isn’t that wool?”

“Nope! Sherpa is polyester fleece. Fake,” she added when his confused expression deepened. “Good thing you have me.”

“Yeah. Good thing.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Danny and Leo roll their eyes in tandem. “All right, you two.”

Only Danny looked apologetic.

“Any ideas?”

Danny dunked a chicken tender in barbecue sauce that oozed out of its container. “A Starbucks gift card?”

“Traitor,” Leo muttered.

“That’s actually a good idea.” Matt reached for his phone to start his own list.

“I’m gonna one-up you,” Charlotte said, “and suggest you get her a French press and a five-pound bag of Starbucks coffee. Oh, and a bean grinder.” She tapped her bottom lip with her pen.

Matt tried to envision Rowan going through all of that every morning. She was the most morning person he’d ever met, but the image didn’t fit. “Yeah . . . I’m gonna stick with the gift card.”

“Fair enough.”

“Leo?” Matt nodded to Rowan’s youngest sibling. Even though the kid was annoyed—or at least pretending to be—he didn’t want him to feel left out of the conversation.

Shrugging, Leo crammed fries into his mouth.

“Really? Nothing at all?”

Leo shifted in his seat, the corners of his mouth turned down. “We don’t really do gifts in our house,” he said. His gaze lowered to his burger.

Matt’s chest tightened. “You don’t celebrate Christmas?”

“No, we do,” Leo said. “It’s just . . .” His expression darkened. “Usually my parents go away. Like on a cruise.”

“And they just leave you?” Charlotte gaped at him in horror.

The teenager shrugged again. “Hey, house party, right?” He turned back to his food.

Across the table, Matt met Charlotte’s gaze. It looked like his Christmas mission had just changed.

Rowan stared out the almost too-shiny front window of Elli’s. It’d long been replaced since the wild thunderstorm a few months earlier, but the glass was nearly reflective. She suspected it had more to do with Matt’s obsessive cleaning of the window than the actual glass itself.

She sighed. Snowflakes drifted down from the sky, painting the quiet Main Street in soft white. The scene was picturesque—or it should’ve been. Watertown’s Christmas cheer contest was in just three days, and she was nervous.

Actually, “nervous” didn’t even begin to cover it. She’d entered Elli’s—the bakery she’d inherited from her aunt Katherine—with confidence, but that was before The Curse started.

Yes, she was definitely calling it The Curse now.

It was more than a funk. She’d been in baking ruts before—where no matter what she did, she botched every single recipe—but that was years ago when she was still a student. She was a pastry chef—one with certification and her own business. She never messed up the recipes she’d made a thousand times before. It was getting to the point where Matt—her handsome business partner and boyfriend—was taking over her morning work. She was even ruining plain old bread. No matter how carefully she measured, it ended up too salty or completely flat.

She was cursed, plain and simple.

She sighed again and looked away from the pretty town. Normally, snow would cheer her up. It was almost Christmas, after all. But if she couldn’t pull it together, Elli’s would not only lose the competition, but they’d become the laughingstock of the town.

Her shoulders slumped. “C’mon, Aunt Katherine,” she whispered. “Be my angel and guide me or something.”

The bells over the door jingled and Rowan straightened in her seat. A vaguely familiar young woman strode in, a red Starbucks cup in her gloved hand. She was decked out in full winter attire: the world’s cutest knit cap, a red scarf wrapped several times around her neck, and cozy UGG boots. Rowan glanced down at her flour- and chocolate-streaked chef’s jacket. Matt should be up front greeting customers—not her.

“Hello,” she said, managing not to sound like a total Scrooge. “What can I get for you?”

“Hi there,” the other woman chirped. “I’m from over at Tilly’s.” She pointed in the direction of the little café. “I’m just scoping out the competition.” She peered into the display case, not even trying to look ashamed. “All you have are sandwiches? Where are those famous cookies and cheesecakes I keep hearing about?”

Rowan suppressed a groan. Tilly’s Café, to both her and Matt’s chagrin, had opened about a month earlier. The town only allowed three total bakeries, but Elli’s hadn’t had a competitor in years. Everyone loved Elli’s. There was no need for another place like it. But Tilly’s had roared in, taking the space where the old chocolate café had once been. The owners fixed up the inside, repaired the stage, and reinstated the open mic nights and other events the town had loved when Rowan was a kid. Elli’s couldn’t possibly compete with that vibe, considering they didn’t have enough space to add a stage.

There had been no stopping it, though. Technically Tilly’s was well within their right, and the town approved it unanimously. Competition, everyone said, was healthy.

Rowan disagreed.

Composing herself, she lifted her chin. “Gotta keep our secret weapons hidden until the big day.”

“Ah.” The woman lifted a finger. “Good plan.” She held out a hand. “We haven’t met yet. My name is Tilly. Are you surprised?” She simpered, perfect dimples appearing in each cheek.

Rowan shook hands with her and resisted the urge to gag. Tilly was sugary sweet, in that completely fake way that some women adopted. “So you’re the baker?”Tilly scoffed. “Oh no, sweetie, I’m the director. I have people baking for me.” She glanced Rowan up and down. “I’m assuming you’re the baker here. Where’s your director?”

“You’re looking at her,” Rowan said, not bothering to hide her disdain.

“Oh my. That’s telling.” Tilly shook her head and clucked her tongue in disapproval. Straightening, she sniffed the air, her delicate nose wrinkling. “Is something burning?”

Eyes widening, Rowan darted out of the front room and careened into the kitchen. “No, no, no,” she protested, yanking open the oven door. But it was too late. The pan she withdrew and placed on the counter held a dozen nearly black red velvet cupcakes. She slumped against the stainless steel counter.

“Well,” Tilly said from the kitchen entrance, “it’s been a pleasure. I’m really glad I came by.” With one last condescending smile, she turned and left.

Rowan glowered at her back. “I’m really glad you’re a total bitch,” she muttered. She shook her head at herself. That was hardly even a comeback.

“Are you talking to yourself again?” Matt strolled into the kitchen from the back room. He carried a clipboard in one hand and pushed back brown curls from his eyes with his other.

“You were supposed to be watching the cupcakes,” she accused.

“I was?” Green eyes shifted from side to side. “I thought I was taking inventory.” He pointed to the clipboard.

Jabbing a finger at the ruined goodies, Rowan scowled. “Tilly’s owner came by. She was a complete tool.” She crossed her arms.

“Sorry, babe.” Matt put the clipboard down. It clinked against the stainless steel counter. He drew her in for a hug, and she couldn’t help but relax against him. With his green eyes, cherub-like curls, and muscular arms, he was living, breathing Ativan. “Still on that streak, huh?”

She huffed. “It’s a curse.”

“Nah.” Stepping back a bit, he lifted her chin with a warm finger. “It’ll pass. You’re Rowan, Elli’s amazing baker.”

Snorting, she shook her head. “More like Elli’s walking disaster!”

“It’ll be okay.”

“Oh yeah? When? The day after the competition?” She stepped completely away and put her hands on her hips.

“It’s no big deal. It’s just a contest.”

Her eyes widened. “Just a contest? Matt, you must have amnesia. Elli’s has won every single Christmas cheer contest for the past ten years.”

“To be fair,” he said, “that’s only because we’ve been the only bakery in town.”

Rowan’s jaw dropped open. “Are you saying we didn’t deserve those awards?”

He held up his hands. “I’m just saying that there was no one else in our category. It’s been, well . . . a piece of cake.”

“I hate you right now.”

He chuckled and slapped his thigh. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the burnt cupcakes. “This event always meant a lot to Aunt Katherine. Christmas was her favorite holiday.” Tears stung her eyes. Exactly six months had passed since Katherine had suddenly died—well, suddenly to Rowan. She’d had no idea that Katherine was even sick. She’d been out in New Jersey, licking her wounds and hoping to sever her family ties all the way down to her DNA. She’d been so, so wrong.

Matt cupped her shoulders. “I know,” he said quietly. Those green eyes bore into hers, pulling her back from the abyss. He smiled. “What if we go through Katherine’s recipe book? Maybe you just need to try something new.”

“And botch one of her sacred recipes?” She shook her head. “I don’t think I could handle it.”

“Well, it’s better than ruining your own recipes and beating yourself up.” His lips flattened. “Actually, it’d be great if you could just stop the self-flagellation altogether. Ro, you’re a freakin’ magician in the kitchen. Everyone has a bad day now and then.”

“A two-week bad day?” she asked. Still, she bent down and retrieved the cherished recipe book from its spot, nestled in a wicker cube that also housed Katherine’s lucky apron. She eyed the apron thoughtfully. “Maybe I should put that on.” Her forehead wrinkled. “Or . . . not. It’s probably better if I don’t taint it.”

She plunked the recipe book onto the counter. It was a two-inch binder wrapped in a floral pattern fabric. Each of Katherine’s recipes was tucked into a clear sheet protector, written in her looping hand that Rowan had always loved. She flipped it open and skimmed through the contents. “What do you think?”

He drummed his fingers on the counter. “Something we don’t make very often . . . and something easy.”

“Hey.” She swatted at him.

“No offense.”

Shaking her head, she read through the list again. “What about Aunt Katherine’s candy cane cookies?” She tapped the photo with a fingernail that she’d nibbled down to the nub.

“Those are good,” Matt agreed. “She made them the first year I worked here.”

“You mean the year you stole my job?”

“Yeah. That year.” He grinned. “Anyway, she wouldn’t let me touch them. I could only watch. She was so particular about how everything was done.”

“In the best way possible.” Rowan smiled. “She always wanted to make sure you were paying attention, that you really learned how to bake with your heart.”

He nodded, then pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Bake with your heart, babe.” He picked up the clipboard again.

“You’re not going to help?”

“I believe I just did.”

“You know what I mean.” She began laying out the ingredients.

Grimacing, he continued toward the store room. “And hang around you? That’s bad juju.” He strolled away, whistling “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.”

“Brat,” she called after him. Still, she smiled. Despite their rocky beginning, Matt was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

Rolling up her sleeves, she got to work.

She flipped on her favorite Christmas music playlist—a mix of piano-only songs on Spotify. With the cheerful tunes drifting through the kitchen, she started mixing the dough. Mixing was always her favorite part. Though she used a mixer, there was just something so soothing about watching all of the ingredients come together. She combined butter, sugar, egg yolks, and peppermint extract, watching as the paddle stirred the wet components together. Her shoulders loosened and a sappy smile played on her lips.

This was it. She was going to break the curse, if it was the last thing she did.

Switching the mixer to low, she stirred in the dry ingredients. The dough churned, becoming more and more solid with each turn. It was hard to believe that, at one point, she’d been willing to give all of this up.

Once the dough was mixed enough, she shut off the machine and separated it into two equal halves. She swaddled one in plastic wrap and set it aside. Maybe covering it completely was going overboard, but with her luck she’d splash red food coloring everywhere and she’d end up with completely red cookies instead of candy cane-shaped cookies, alternating in red and white.

She hummed to herself as she dyed the other half of the dough red. Already she could see the perfect little candy canes, positioned in the display case so that every other one of them were Js, their sugar sprinkles glistening.

Using her hands, she shaped each ball of dough into a flat square, smoothing the edges into perfection with a bench scrape.

The front door jingled again, and she cringed. “Matt,” she called.

“It’s just me.” Her best friend, Charlotte, practically floated into the kitchen. Her face glowed, and Rowan suspected it had little to do with the cold weather.

“Tell me everything,” Rowan said as she wrapped the squares, “in just one more minute.” She tucked the dough into the walk-in refrigerator, taking a moment to admire her work. Content, she hurried back into the kitchen. “Go!” she told Charlotte.

“Okay, so you remember Amarie?” Charlotte said, unable to hide the goofy grin that clung to her lips like confectioner’s sugar.

“How could I forget?” Rowan tossed everything into the pot sink for later scrubbing.

“Well,” Charlotte drew out the word, “she added me on Facebook a while back.”

“Uh-huh. I remember,” Rowan prodded.

“She hasn’t posted much lately, because of finals and all that, but . . . she’s coming home for winter break!” Charlotte clapped her hands together and bounced on the balls of her feet, her hair flying off her shoulders. Usually dyed one bright color or another, Charlotte had made no exceptions for the holiday season and had turned her naturally blonde locks into cheery Christmas red.

“That’s awesome, Char,” Rowan said with a smile. “So are you gonna make a move?”

Charlotte’s smile faded. She took a deep breath. “She’s still with Jason,” she admitted.

Rowan nodded sympathetically. “We’ll just have to plan a get-together and then you can sweep her off her feet!”

Her best friend shrugged. “I don’t know . . . I mean, I know she’s queer. My gaydar has never failed me. But . . .”

“Jason puts a wrench in the plans.”

“Exactly. I’m not into adultery.”

“They’re not exactly married,” Rowan said, lifting a finger.

“Right, but they’ve been together a while now. Over a year? Maybe even close to two. And I don’t think she knows she likes girls, too, Ro. Like, maybe deep down, but not really, you know?”

Rowan nodded. She slung an arm around Charlotte. “We’ve got to cure you of this crush, babe. It’s only going to tear you apart.”

Charlotte twisted her lips to the side. “I know it. I barely know the girl. I’ve never felt so connected with anyone before, though. It sounds freakin’ stalker-ish.”

“Nah. I get it.” Rowan shrugged out of her chef’s jacket. “How about we go get our Starbucks fix? I’m really craving a peppermint mocha now,” she said, sniffing at the faint traces of the oil on her hands.

Charlotte giggled. “So I take it your streak has ended?”

“I think so,” Rowan said. “I can feel it.” She pulled on her winter coat, a black parka that fell to her knees. Though Charlotte had tried talking her into dying her whole head green, Rowan had gone back to her natural mousy brown—just until the competition was over. She meant no offense to Charlotte, but she’d wanted to be taken seriously, and she was glad now that she knew how put-together Tilly was.

Linking arms with Charlotte, Rowan called out to Matt that they were heading out, and promised to bring him something back. Arm in arm, she and Charlotte stepped onto Main Street. It was at least a mile walk to Starbucks, but with Charlotte she didn’t even feel cold. They chitchatted as they walked, catching up on their lives. Charlotte had started bartending school so that she could be a mixologist at The 545, the lounge she was a short order cook at.

“This way I can chat up cute girls and make some extra money in tips,” she reasoned.

“Makes sense to me.”

Rowan glanced into the windows of the various shops they passed. Main Street was always cute, but it had an even more special vibe during the holidays. Each bare tree was wrapped in white string lights, the lights intertwining and forming a canopy above the sidewalk. It was pure magic, she surmised.

By the time they stepped inside Starbucks, though, her cheeks and nose were numb.

“My treat,” Charlotte said, blocking her from the chip reader.

“No, mine,” Rowan insisted. “You got the last time.”

“So?”

“Plus Matt’s ordering too. C’mon.”

Charlotte stuck out her tongue playfully and gave the barista their orders before Rowan could argue further.

“You,” Rowan told her, wrapping her in a one-armed hug.

“Me.” Charlotte beamed.

They took their coffees and sat down at a table.

“So,” Charlotte said meaningfully, dragging out the word. “Any special Christmas plans with Matt?”

Rowan tilted her head, her eyebrows furrowed. As far as she knew, they were each spending Christmas with their families. They saw each other every day anyway. They could exchange gifts any time.

“Seriously? He didn’t invite you to Christmas dinner with the family?”

“So what? I mean, he doesn’t really have a lot of family. It’ll just be his mom, his little brother, and him. He doesn’t get to spend much time with them.”

Charlotte gave her a flat look. “You guys have been together for like six months now.”

“Four, technically. Actually . . .” Rowan counted. “Three.”

Her best friend rolled her eyes. “Six,” she said firmly. “That month or whatever you were ‘broken up’ so doesn’t count.”

“Either way,” Rowan said, “it’s family time.” She suppressed a groan. “Family time,” to her parents, meant ditching their children just before the holidays for their annual cruise. “What are your plans?” she asked, changing the subject.

“The Butler family tradition: Christmas Eve mass and a stern talking-to about how God hates gays.” She rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry, love.” Rowan reached across the table and gave her best friend’s hand a warm squeeze. “Any way you can skip?”

“Only if I’m bleeding to death. And even then . . .” She shrugged.

Rowan raised her coffee cup in a salute. “To family.”

Charlotte knocked her cup against Rowan’s. “Happy holidays.” She giggled.

A little while later, they headed back to Elli’s. Full dark had fallen in the meantime and, with it, the temperature. Rowan huddled deep into her coat.

Charlotte walked her to the door and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Good luck with those candy canes,” she said. She hopped into her warm car, thanks to her remote starter when they were still a block away, and waved as she pulled from the curb.

Taking a deep breath, Rowan hurried into the warmth of Elli’s. She hung her coat up, then went into the walk-in.

Matt bent over a shelf, his black Dickies accenting his ass.

“Nice,” she said flirtatiously.

Straightening, he turned and wrapped her in a hug. Full, warm lips pressed to hers. “Aw, look who’s cold. Let me warm you up, baby.”

“In the walk-in?” Rowan lifted an eyebrow.

He smirked. “We could do it in the kitchen instead, if you prefer.”

“Tempting,” she said, twirling away, “but I’ve got a hot date.” She grabbed her chilled dough and took it to her station, leaving him chuckling after her.

Heart thudding in her chest, she eyed the dough on the stainless steel, willing it to cooperate. “All right,” she said. “Let’s break this streak.”