Page 21 of A Very Titan Christmas (Titan #14)

The scent of vanilla and powdered sugar hung in the air as though Rachel and Bryce had wandered into Mrs. Claus’s kitchen at the North Pole.

Silverberry Ridge’s annual cookie decorating fundraiser had taken over the Cozy Cookie bakery, transforming it into a twinkling wonderland of garlands, frosting tubes, and Christmas chaos.

Laughter and holiday music floated around the too-small room, broken only by the occasional splat of a decorating disaster.

Rachel stood at the end of the long folding table, gripping a piping bag like it was a weapon of war.

Her hands were sticky with red and green icing.

A smattering of edible gold glitter streaked across her cheek.

She was aiming for an ugly Christmas sweater cookie that screamed holiday kitsch.

Instead, the sweater on her cookie looked like it had melted off an elf.

“Your cookie has seen things,” Bryce murmured beside her, nodding solemnly at her subpar decorating skills. “Or is that a little kid’s cookie that you’re trying to patch up?”

Rachel snorted, barely resisting the urge to elbow him. “It’s festive and fun.”

“It’s a crime against sugar.” He leaned closer to inspect her handiwork, brushing his arm against hers.

When he straightened, he brushed a kiss to her temple and returned to his cookie in progress, adding sugar googly eyes.

His cookie featured a lime-green sweater decorated with pretzel antlers and mini marshmallow buttons. It was irritatingly perfect.

She arched an eyebrow. “Remind me again why you’re here?”

“Because I’m your devoted boyfriend, remember?” He winked.

Rachel’s traitorous stomach fluttered. Stupid wink. Stupid, beautiful hazel eyes. “I think my boyfriend should be more supportive, not critical of my cookie art.”

“Supportive?” He studied his cookie as though he were a culinary god who had become a pastry chef. “Babe, I’ve lied to your mother and survived a dinner inquisition. That’s the height of support.”

Bryce had been by her side in the days that had passed since the dinner with her parents.

They hadn’t talked about the up-against-a-door, mind-melting kiss.

They hadn’t talked about what he’d said to her parents about stability.

She hadn’t asked to thread her fingers back into his silky hair or to have him bite her lip again.

Instead, they’d simply acted like Silverberry Ridge tourists—while fanning the sexual tension and chemistry she forbade them to discuss.

Her gaze flicked to the far side of the room, where Eloise was monitoring a table of previous town winners vying for another cookie-decorating win.

“There’s a chance that, if you weren’t my boyfriend, Eloise would use her clipboard to take notes on potential suitors at the contest, ranking them by their probable 401(k) size and family Christmas card potential.

Oh, and for top-notch DNA for beautiful grandbabies.

” Rachel studied her mom. “Actually, she might be doing that right now.”

Bryce laughed. “Well, if that guy with the light-up Rudolph sweater vest edges over here, I’ll sweep you off your feet and fake propose.”

“You’d better.”

Their bickering, which had started at the marketplace, had tapered off.

They’d gotten rid of Eloise’s lingering doubts about the realness of their relationship.

They were pretending, but so much of what Rachel felt was real.

The more she tried to ignore that, the more problematic it became, and when Bryce laughed with her like that, the line between pretend and real was growing fuzzier.

He reached for a handful of gumdrops. “You still do that thing where you stick out your tongue when you concentrate.”

“I do not.”

“You do,” he said. “It’s cute.”

Rachel rolled her eyes and focused on her cookie. His laughter was distractingly wonderful.

“Remember that time you kissed me behind the gym after the Homecoming Dance? Before we were dating. Cute little Rachel Porter just smacked one on my lips and ran.”

“That was a dare.”

“Liar.”

She bumped him with her hip.

He bumped her right back. “My sixteen-year-old heart fell for you then and there.”

Like she was a kid again, Rachel elbowed him. He scooted out of the way, and she knocked into the bowl of crushed candy canes. Red-and-white shards skittered across the table.

He held up his hands. “That wasn’t me.”

Rachel laughed, and so did he. For a second, this was everything she wanted in life.

She hadn’t thought to take photographs or get a quote for her article.

She was just having fun with a man who made her world spin.

Then she sobered. All of this would go away soon.

Even though they clicked, even though they still had chemistry and sexual tension, they would both leave Silverberry Ridge.

If she weren’t careful, she would miss him more this time than when he’d broken her heart.

“You’re still trouble, Bryce Richmond,” she said softly.

“And you still like trouble, Rachel Porter.”

Yeah, she did. Their laughter died down, replaced by something slower, more electric.

It reminded her of the lead-up to that kiss.

She should’ve looked away. Should’ve reminded herself this was pretend and would come to an end.

But instead, she studied the flecks of powdered sugar spread over his faint freckles and in his blondish-brown hair, those warm hazel eyes flecked with gold, and the way his jaw flexed like he was holding back something he wanted to say.

“I missed you,” he said, almost too low to hear. “It had been manageable when I saw you at school, but when we left Vermont… I missed you in a way that cut deep.”

She sucked in a breath.

“I didn’t remember how much it hurt until I dropped you off after dinner the other night.”

Her heart stuttered. She opened her mouth, searching for a quip, something to deflect attention from what he’d said. But the words got stuck somewhere behind the lump in her throat.

“Rachel!” Eloise’s voice sliced through the tension like sleigh bells at midnight. She wheeled up to their table. “You’re wearing the matching aprons I gave you? I didn’t think you would.”

Both of them looked down at their aprons. Rachel noticed the gingerbread men and peppermints embroidered on the red aprons but hadn’t bothered to read the lettering. Hers said Santa’s Favorite Baker. His was embroidered with a Santa Claus face and read Will Work for Kisses.

Rachel cringed. “Eloise.”

Her mom laughed.

“How long have you had these? Actually, I don’t want to know.” How much work had Eloise put into buttering up Rachel and a potential suitor?

“I just got them this morning. Don’t be silly.”

Bryce grinned, clearly not embarrassed in the least. “Well, I have been working hard.” He pointed to their ridiculous cookies. “I think I’ve earned a kiss.”

“Oh, come on—”

But before she could escape, he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. Stars exploded. The rush of her blood heated, and the white noise of lust drowned away the rest of the room. Except this was a show for Eloise. It wasn’t a genuine kiss. It couldn’t be.

Then again, her knees were ready to give out.

Eloise left them with a sigh loud enough for the entire room to hear.

All eyes were on them. A blush rose on her cheeks. Across the room, his bemused teammates watched as if they were on a reality television show. He’d put their fake relationship on display, which was what she’d asked him to do. But right then, she wanted to curl up and hide.

“That was quite the display,” she whispered.

Bryce leaned closer again, his breath warm against her ear. “Just trying to sell it. You know, for the cause.”

“You might be overselling it.”

He shrugged. “Your mother caught us passing second base in your backyard once upon a time. I think we’re good.”

She hated how much she was smiling. “You’re distracting me. I need to get back to work.”

“Because more time will help that cookie—”

She smacked his arm, and Bryce’s laughter rolled through her like happy little shivers.

“Time’s up!” Mayor Fowler called. “Turn in your ugliest Christmas sweater cookies!”

Rachel stepped back to inspect her final creation: an ugly sweater cookie that looked like it had been decorated during a nor’easter by a muskrat on a sugar high.

It had marshmallow buttons and at least three kinds of sprinkles that didn’t belong together.

What started as plaid had evolved into brown with hints of red, green, and gold.

“It’s hideous,” she said proudly.

“It’s a work of art,” he said, handing their cookies to the judging table.

She and Bryce fell back as the crowd bustled with activity and cookies were collected. Rachel remembered to take pictures, though she should have taken some while the group was decorating. She snapped a photo of Bryce when he wasn’t looking. He turned and smiled for the camera. She snapped another.

“Let me see.” Bryce leaned close to look at the camera screen.

“Most handsome guy in Silverberry Ridge,” she teased.

“After this, let me take you out to dinner?”

“I don’t recall seeing that on Eloise’s list of activities for today. You’re off the hook for eating out with me. I’ll go home and write.”

“I don’t mean like that…” His jaw flexed. “Just you and me. Together.”

She half laughed, and a fluttering she didn’t want to acknowledge bubbled in her chest. “That sounds like a date. You don’t have to spend time with me whenever my parents aren’t looking.”

“Yeah, Rach, I know that. I want to take you out someplace nice.”

Her heart thudded. “You mean like a”—real, she wanted to say but couldn’t—“date?”

He didn’t smile this time. He just looked at her with that same steady warmth that melted her so easily. “A date. You and me.”

The pretending was feeling dangerously real. “All right. A date.”