Page 2 of A Perfect Christmas Dance (Kringle, Texas #7)

Sometime around September, Nina Ellis decided the only gift she wanted for Christmas this year was Ryan Danvers.

He didn’t know it, of course. No one did. And though Christmas Eve was fast approaching, Nina still hadn’t figured out how to make her wish come true.

It wasn’t as if she could order Ryan online and have him delivered. Even if she could, she’d never be able to afford him. He was way out of her league. Her best hope would probably have been Santa, but the jolly old man didn’t exist.

Ha, ha, ha, and ho, ho, ho.

Nina sighed and kneaded the silky pate à choux dough, pressing and folding the way her grandmother taught her when she was ten. The bakery stretched unusually quiet for a December afternoon. Customers trickled in and out, but the holiday rush hadn’t materialized, leaving her too much time to think.

About Ryan. About the bakery. About how everything teetered on the edge this year.

Ellis Early Eats was more than just a bakery since her grandparents, Garrett and Ellie, opened it in Kringle in 1981.

For decades, Gee was the town’s only doctor, back before it became a tourist town, marketing itself to big-city visitors during the holidays.

However, it was Ellie who made the bakery the heart and soul of Kringle. She filled the shop with the scent of freshly baked bread, cinnamon rolls, cream puffs, and her famous kolaches, all while raising three children and keeping the books for Gee’s practice.

Nina’s parents took over the bakery when she was a teenager and Ellie got too sick to run it anymore.

Her folks expanded the menu and updated the equipment, bringing in customers from all over the county and beyond. The bakery thrived until they retired four years ago and moved to Arizona, leaving the store to Nina with a little help from Gee after Ellie passed away.

She loved working with Gee, but things had changed. Her grandfather, who once juggled patients and pastries with ease, had slowed down and so now the financial side of things fell on her shoulders, and with rising costs and fewer customers, she found herself swimming upstream.

The bakery once buzzed with customers during the holiday season, but since urban sprawl from Fort Worth pushed the big box stores closer to Kringle, she found it harder and harder to compete.

People still loved the idea of homemade baked goods, but the convenience of picking up a dozen cookies or a pie at half the price from Costco was doing them in.

Nina tried to adjust, offering catering services and custom orders, but even those were drying up.

She glanced at the shelves dwindling of supplies. Lately, debt piled up faster than customers walked through the door.

Ryan Danver’s Christmas order was a lifeline—two hundred kolaches, a hundred cream puffs, twelve dozen cookies, fifty pies, and ten sheet cakes. The largest single order they had all year, and if she could pull it off, the income from it would keep the bakery afloat until the Valentine’s Day surge.

Photographs of her family hung on the wall in front of her. A snapshot of her grandmother pulling a tray of freshly baked rolls from the oven, head thrown back, laughing, was one of her favorites. Gee sitting with customers at a table, his smile warm and inviting, another.

Her grandparents built this place on love and hard work. Letting them down felt like a betrayal, but she didn’t know what else she could do. She worked sixty to seventy hours a week, with no time for a social life.

Not that she minded. She loved the bakery.

Her gaze drifted to a framed photo of Gee from last spring with his church group.

Ryan stood beside him, smiling, his hand resting on Gee’s shoulder.

That day meant so much to her—Ryan and a few other church members had stepped in to drive Gee to his chemo treatments when Nina was too overwhelmed to manage every day.

Ryan showed up at the bakery the first day Gee needed a ride, wearing that shy smile, and offered to help.

“Figured it was the least I could do,” he said. “Your grandfather used to give me and Jenny free cookies when we were kids.”

Nina’s heart ached with a gratitude so intense she could hardly speak. The way Ryan helped Gee into his truck, and made sure her grandfather was comfortable, plumping a pillow for his lower back and adjusting the seat for his long legs, stirred something inside her.

Every Sunday during church service, Nina looked across the pews at him, as he held the hymnal, and his deep voice rang out above the rest.

One morning, he turned his head and caught her staring. He flashed her a quick smile. She dropped her gaze, her face flaming, and spent the rest of the service keeping her eyes locked on the pastor.

Ryan was kind and generous, never making a big deal about the help he offered, never expecting anything in return.

That was what made him so different. He wasn’t just the handsome rancher every young, single, straight woman in town swooned over.

He was a good man. The kind of man she dreamed of but was too nervous to pursue.

After finishing the pate a choux, she put it the fridge to rest and washed her hands at the sink.

The bell above the door jingled.

Nina dried her hands on a kitchen towel and stepped into the storefront to greet the customer and stopped in her tracks.

Ryan Danvers.

Looking more handsome than usual.

He wore a Stetson, work boots, and a shearling coat. He gave her a smile, but his lips pressed tight, and the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Morning, Nina.”

“Hey, Ryan.” She kept her voice neutral, not wanting to give away her flaming crush on him, and pushed back a tendril of hair that escaped her messy bun.

They looked at each other, neither one speaking.

“Well,” they said in unison, then laughed together.

“You go first,” he said.

“No, no, you.” She waved, alarmed at how fast her pulse sprinted.

Ryan glanced around at the empty bakery and winced. “Pretty quiet in here.”

She shrugged as if the vacant tables were no big deal. “It’s Monday morning. Past breakfast and not yet ready for the lunch crowd.”

He cleared his throat.

She interlaced her fingers in front of her, rested her knotted hands on her apron at her navel, and waited.

“I… um…” He pressed his palm to his nape and shifted his weight. “Listen, Nina, there’s something I need to discuss with you.”

Her breath hitched and a weird hope jolted through her. She leaned forward. “Yes?”

“About my order for the party…”

“Do you want to add to it?” she asked.

He dropped his gaze. “Um, not exactly.”

Her stomach fell to the floor and rolled around. She latched her gaze on to his face, trying to decipher his unreadable expression. “What is it? You need to change something?”

He pointed at a table. “Could we sit down?”

“Is it that bad?” Her laugh came out nervous, edgy.

He didn’t smile, just moved to the table and sat. He took off his Stetson and settled it on the chair beside him.

Uh-oh. Nina flitted behind the counter, uncertain what to do. “Would you like some lunch? I know it’s a little early, but I also know ranchers get up before dawn too. I just sliced some roasted turkey and baked fresh sourdough loaves. I could whip up my avocado and turkey sammie, no charge?—”

“No.” He shook his head. “Thanks, but I should get back to the ranch. I’ve got a long to-do list.”

“Oh, okay.” Not knowing what else to do, she walked over and pulled back the chair across from him, the legs scraping against the floor, the noise extra loud in the empty bakery.

He placed both hands, palms down, on the table and met her gaze with steady eyes. “I know we have a written contract for the order, but I wonder if you’re open to amending it.”

Nina pursed her lips and exhaled slowly, emptying all the air from her lungs the way Gee taught her to regulate her emotions. “What’s happened?”

“The storm blew shingles off my barn roof and the repairs took a bite out of the party budget. I can’t afford to pay you all at once and I was wondering if you accept some kind of payment plan.”

He’d already put down the ten percent deposit she required for large orders. Nina opened her mouth, but didn’t know what to say, and closed it again.

“If you can’t do that, I understand, and instead maybe we could reduce the quantity of the order?” His eyes searched her face, and his mouth pulled down.

“By how much?”

He grimaced. “By half.”

She gripped the edge of the table, trying to steady herself. “Ryan, I’ve already placed the order for the ingredients.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I had any other choice.” He sounded exhausted, and the muscle near his right eye ticked.

“You’re right.” She forced a smile. “It’s just flour, sugar, butter. I can use that on any recipe. Nothing special other than it’s a larger than normal expense.”

“I’m so sorry. Forget it. I’ll figure something else out.” He pushed back his chair and got to his feet.

Nina hopped up too, flashing back to Ryan helping Gee into his truck, carefully fluffing that pillow and settling it just so for her grandfather.

“Wait. Let me see what I can do. I’ll crunch some numbers and get back to you with a payment plan.

Folks in Kringle look forward to your Christmas party every year.

It means a lot to the community, and it was sorely missed the years after your parents…

well… we don’t want a shoddy party, do we?

We’ll make this happen one way or another. ”

“Really?” He looked so hopeful Nina decided she would rearrange the entire solar system if he asked her to.

“Yes.” She bobbed her head and brightened her smile. She had no idea how she’d swing it, but she’d find a way, even if she had to run a balance on her credit card.

“Thank you, Nina. I know our friends and neighbors will appreciate it.” He picked up his Stetson and settled it on his head. “It means a lot to me and Jenny too.”

She wanted to say something inspiring and encouraging but the words stuck somewhere between her heart and her lips. He stood so close to her. She ached to reach out and touch him, to comfort him, but manners and personal boundaries held her back.

“I better let you get to work. I’m sure the lunch crowd will be descending soon,” he said. “Let me know what payment plan you can swing and be fair to yourself, okay?”

“I’ll text you.” Her smile froze to her face.

He tipped his hat and left, the bell jingling in his wake. She tilted her head and watched him saunter away, her heart beating too fast, her mouth too dry. If Santa were real, Nina knew exactly what she’d ask for this year.

A Christmas miracle.