Page 14 of A Very Titan Christmas (Titan #14)

“That’s the problem with the world. It would run much smoother if royal icing and fondant were penciled into family calendars.”

Rachel nudged Bryce and offered a stage whisper. “Ignore her.”

“Since you haven’t participated in a holiday cookie contest,” Eloise said in her best disappointed-teacher voice, “I’ll task you with finalizing the theme.”

“You don’t have a theme yet?” Rachel asked. “I don’t believe that.”

“Even if we did, Bryce needs a lesson in holiday activities.”

“I don’t think he does, Mom.”

“Have you ever noticed the way she says Mom when she’s unhappy with me?” Eloise shrugged and smiled. “I hear it often.”

Eloise wasn’t wrong, but Rachel scoffed. “He’s dating me, Mom. Bryce isn’t here for Silverberry Ridge Christmas 101.”

Eloise placed a hand over her heart. “Oh, Rachel, that would be a fantastic name for your article.”

Once again, Mom wasn’t wrong. “That’s not the point.”

Bryce laughed. “It’s fine. We can come up with a theme.”

“You have no idea how seriously some people take their cookie themes.” Rachel pitied him because of how little he knew about the world that was sucking him into its Christmas vortex. “They’ve had themes like starry, starry night and poinsettias on a mantel.”

His brow furrowed. “Do kids make these cookies?”

“Everyone in town decorates.” Mom grinned, then held out her hands and gestured to her body. “It’s hard to say no to me. Especially when I roll up and smile.”

“It’s a small-town fundraiser. Everyone decorates the cookies,” Rachel explained.

“It’s fun. Mostly. Some adults take it too seriously.

But that’s life.” She’d have to make sure to get pictures of the kids decorating.

They tended to breeze into the contest with bright eyes and smiles and leave with bellies full of sugar cookies and hair spackled with royal icing.

“Maybe it’s the themes,” Bryce held up a hand and wriggled it from side to side. “Flowers in front of a fireplace?”

“Poinsettias on a mantel,” Mom corrected. “The detail work on the flowers.” She held her hand to her heart again as though the cookies had moved her as much as the potential title of Rachel’s article. “Some had roaring fires. Others had stockings hung with care.”

“Kids did that?”

“Well, no.”

“We’ll come up with a great theme.” Bryce looked over Eloise’s shoulder. “Ready to order?”

They ordered drinks. Bryce and Rachel returned to the sitting area before the fireplace while Eloise chatted with the barista.

“She has just as much energy as she did when we were in school,” Bryce said.

Rachel nodded. “It feels like even more because I’m not used to it.

” She laughed to herself. “Living with Eloise day in, day out, you become immune to her. She’s…

” Rachel pursed her lips and tried to find a word that wasn’t unkind but fully acknowledged her mother’s overwhelming presence.

Nothing came to mind, so she settled on “a lot.”

“A lot is right.” Bryce leaned back against the couch. “You’re here all month, huh?”

“Yup. You are too?”

He nodded.

“What’s the summit?”

“You know what summits are.” He raised a shoulder. “It’s a summit. Even if I knew the players, I can’t share the information until it’s released publicly. There are no known threats. You won’t notice a thing except when everyone and their security details show up.”

“Right before Christmas, huh? I’m sure there’ll be some appropriate name like the Silent Night Peace Accord. A little cliché, if you ask me.”

“Tell me more about your article.” Bryce studied her closely.

“Hopefully, a cover article.” She knitted her fingers with a bashful nervousness. “It would be my first.”

“High school Rachel would be very proud of herself for becoming a journalist.”

“I mean, I’m covering cookie decorating and tree lightings. So I’m not sure if we should call it journalism.”

Those intense hazel eyes narrowed, and his lips parted, but whatever he was about to say fell by the wayside. “What else are you going to include? I remember the tree lighting. Everyone loved ice skating and ordering sugar on snow.”

Excitement bled into her. “You do remember Silverberry Ridge.”

“Honey, there’s not much I forgot.”

She blushed at the way he said those words. Her gaze skittered toward the fireplace. “You can’t forget the annual teddy bear tea party.”

He laughed. “I don’t remember that.”

“Well, I guess you didn’t move here until you were past the teddy bear stage.”

“I never had a teddy bear stage.”

She snickered. “All right, tough guy.”

Bryce pushed his sweater up his forearms, crossed his arms, and smirked. “I might’ve had a stuffed gorilla.”

“I mean, that’s all kinds of manly. Way more acceptable than a teddy bear.”

The corners of his lips crooked and melted her insides.

Her gaze lingered on his lips until she stole it away.

Eloise, trailed by the barista, found them.

Rachel wanted to scoot away from Bryce, as if her mother had caught them flirting.

They hadn’t been, but that hadn’t kept her from noticing so many things about the guy who had broken her heart.

“I had an idea.” Eloise set her mug on the end table, which was adorned with a ceramic snowman glazed with white glitter. “And before you say no, this is one of those things where I’m asking, but it’s much closer to a demand.”

Bryce snickered behind his coffee mug. “At least she’s honest.”

“One of my redeeming qualities,” Eloise agreed.

A man close to her mother’s age in a button-down shirt walked toward their group with a smile one might wear into an interview, and Rachel’s stomach plummeted.

“Eloise.” He held out his hand. “So nice to see you.”

“Oh, Richard.” Her mother’s rapidly blinking eyes were all the confirmation Rachel needed. “So nice to see you. How are you?”

His expression faltered. “Good. Good. Were we supposed to…” He cast an uncertain look at Rachel and Bryce before returning his gaze to Eloise. “Meet this morning?”

“We were,” Eloise agreed with a polite but up-shit-creek nod. “But I didn’t know—I wasn’t aware that my daughter—”

“Hi, I’m Eloise’s daughter Rachel,” she cut in.

It was rare to see her mother flustered.

Rachel ought to let her stew in the scheduling disaster, but if this was uncomfortable for them, it had to be awkward to the nth degree for Bryce.

“This is my boyfriend, Bryce. You must be one of my mom’s friends. ”

“Um, yes.” He nodded. “Nice to meet you. Timothy Martinez. I’m the accountant who does the books for your father’s reelection committee.”

“Ah.” She couldn’t believe Timothy was on the list of potential bachelors. He had to be at least twenty years older than her. “Nice to meet you. We were just leaving, so we’ll let you talk shop.”

Yes, she was abandoning her mother to the meeting she’d forgotten to cancel, but Eloise could probably use a gentle reminder that this whole matchmaking thing was a disaster.

Arm in arm, Rachel and Bryce rushed out of the lobby and into the wintry morning air, managing to keep their laughter at bay until they’d escaped.

“Oh my God, she was setting me up with him.”

“She really was.” Bryce shook his head. “I mean, I believed you when you said she had a mile-long list of men for you to meet, but I guess it didn’t really click.”

“Timothy is old enough to be my father.”

“Some people dig age differences.”

Rachel smacked Bryce’s arm. “Well, yeah, when they’re muscled-up mafia kingpins looking for a girl with a praise kink. Not Timothy from accounting.”

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

“No, I’m serious.” His eyebrow crooked. “Did sweet, quiet Rachel Porter just say, ‘praise kink’?”

She smacked his arm again. “I didn’t say I have a praise kink!”

“No?” He playfully elbowed her. “Would have been fun if you did.”

“Bryce Richmond, I will keep hitting you until you shut up.”

His hands shot up in surrender, though his laughter never slowed. “Kidding. Kidding. Sorta.”

“Bryce.”

“Kidding.”

They walked by an outdoor firepit encircled by Adirondack chairs and crossed the patio until they reached the stone divider wall that separated the large seating area from a snowy overlook. Years ago, they had sat on the wall, feet dangling over the edge, and talked for hours.

On the weekends, a fire constantly burned in the firepit, even when Rachel’s little family resort had been much smaller. She and Bryce had never cared if the patio was full or not; it had always felt like they were the only ones in the world. “We made a lot of memories here.”

His laughter sobered. “We made a lot of memories all over this place.”

A blush rocketed into her cheeks. He was not wrong. She turned to smack his arm or elbow him in the ribs—God, she was acting like a teenager again. His hands gripped her sides and lifted her on top of the wall. Bryce kept his hands on her waist. “We need ground rules.”

“What? No. We don’t need ground rules. This is just pretend for the sake of my mother.”

His fingers flexed into her side before he let go, but he didn’t back up.

Bryce positioned himself between her thighs.

She could lean forward, hang her arms around his neck, and kiss him.

She’d done that a hundred times in what felt like a million years ago.

Her heart raced just as it had when they hadn’t been playing pretend.

“I’m not the guy you used to know.” He pushed her hair behind her ears. “And I don’t really do distractions anymore. Work is it for me. It’s what I do. Hell, it’s all I do.”