Page 18 of Christmas at Wolf Creek

“Finally!” Kat exclaims when she spots us. “We’re starving!” Kat clamps her mouth shut and looks at Frank guiltily. "Sorry, no offence, but I need something other than baked goods."

He nods his understanding as I hand over the bag of sandwiches, which is immediately descended upon by hungry MacGallans.

“Where’s Lana?” I ask, scanning the room. “We saw her outside a few minutes ago.”

“Bathroom,” Wren answers around a mouthful of sandwich. “Said she needed to wash flour out of her eyebrows. How does someone even get flour in their eyebrows?”

“It’s a special talent,” Kat declares proudly. “One that apparently runs in the family.”

I notice Ella watching our exchange with a slight frown, her eyes darting to the front door. “Everything okay?” I ask her quietly.

She startles slightly, then offers a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Fine. Just thinking about the next steps. We need to start on the royal icing decorations while the structures set.”

I don’t believe her casual tonefor a second, but before I can press further, Lana emerges from the back room. Her expression is composed, but there’s a tension around her mouth that wasn’t there before.

“Hey,” I greet her, offering a sandwich. “We saw you outside. Making friends with the locals?”

Something flickers in her eyes—annoyance, perhaps, or embarrassment. “Hardly. Just a misunderstanding about parking spots.”

It’s clearly not the whole story, but I don’t push. Lana has always kept things close to the vest, especially since the disaster with Mark. If she wants to talk, she knows I’m here.

“Alright, team!” Frank claps his hands, drawing everyone’s attention. “Phase two begins now! We need precision, patience, and artistic flair. Who’s good with a piping bag?”

I raise my hand along with Ella and, surprisingly, Kane. When I give him a questioning look, he shrugs. “My foster mother decorated cakes. I helped sometimes.”

Another glimpse into his past, casually offered. These little revelations still surprise me—the ways Kane lets down his guard bit by bit, revealing the complexities beneath his gruff exterior.

Frank assigns us to different stations. Kane and I end up at a table covered with tiny gingerbread figures—people to populate the village once it’s constructed.

“These need faces and clothing details,” Frankexplains, handing us piping bags filled with different colored icings. “Think classic Christmas card, not horror movie.”

“There goes my artistic vision,” Kane deadpans, earning a laugh from Frank.

We settle into our task, heads bent close together as we carefully pipe tiny scarves, buttons, and facial features onto the gingerbread people. It’s delicate work that requires concentration, but there’s something soothing about the repetitive motion.

“We should name them,” I suggest, adding a jaunty green hat to a particularly dapper gingerbread man. “Create backstories for the whole village.”

Kane smirks, working on his own figure. “This one’s the town drunk. See his lopsided smile and questionable fashion choices?”

I lean closer, examining his work. “Hmm, I see it. Though he looks suspiciously like you when I found you buried in the sand.”

“Slander and lies,” he protests, though his eyes crinkle with amusement as he leans in for a kiss.

Chapter 9

Lana

“Eww, get a room,” I mutter, rolling my eyes as Kane and Kori share what’s supposed to be a quick kiss but is rapidly becoming something more intimate than appropriate for a public bakery. They break apart, Kane looking not the least bit embarrassed while Kori’s cheeks flush pink.

I turn my attention back to my own gingerbread figures, trying to ignore the twist of something that feels uncomfortably like envy in my stomach. It’s not that I begrudge them their happiness—God knows Kori deserves it after what Mark put us through—buttheir easy affection is a reminder of everything I’ve lost.

“You okay?” Wren asks quietly, sliding into the chair beside me. “You’ve been quiet since you came back.”

“Fine,” I say automatically, then sigh when she gives me a knowing look. “Just a weird encounter outside.”

“With a tall, dark, cowboy?” she guesses, expertly piping a delicate pattern onto a gingerbread roof panel.

I frown, focusing intently on giving my gingerbread person a scarf to avoid meeting her eyes. “How did you—”