Page 45 of Only for the Season

“Dinner is not necessarily a date. Not even if a fancy car's involved.” ~ Parker

Parker

Iraise my hands in the air and stretch my back. I moan as the motion causes muscles that haven’t moved in hours to contract.

“Do you need a backrub?” Jeremy asks and I clutch my chest before whirling around to face him.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on me.”

“The door was open.”

Maybe because I had a tiny mishap with my Merry Mermaid Macaroons. Macaroons are delicate. I shouldn’t have used a blowtorch to caramelize the sea-green drizzle. They were perfect as they were. But I wanted to make them even better.

Perfectionists should not have access to blowtorches.

“I forgot.” Liar. Liar. Macaroons on fire. “Do you need coffee? Holly’s working in the café. She can make you one. No charge.”

“Actually.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and rolls back onto his heels. “I had a question.”

“If it’s whether I can remove the batteries from the smoke alarms to stop their insistent blaring, the answer is no. The fire department gets mad when I fiddle with the smoke alarms. The last time it happened, they threatened to cut off my supply of sugar. No one cuts off a baker’s supply of sugar.”

He chuckles. “I have no intention of touching your smoke alarms or your sugar supply.”

“Good. You may live.”

“Thank you, my bakery queen.” He bows.

“Finally! Someone who understands my need to be referred to as queen.”

“I’ll call you queen from now on if you stop referring to me as Scrooge.”

I scratch my chin as I pretend to contemplate his offer. “Sorry. No deal. You are a Scrooge and as such deserve to be referred to as one. Stop being a Scrooge and I’ll stop calling you Scrooge.”

“Not enjoying snow – which is cold and wet – doesn’t make me a Scrooge.”

I lift an eyebrow. “What about complaining about me singing Christmas Carols?”

“You were singing about pirates staggering.”

“And? What’s your point? Pirates do stagger.”

“Pirates aren’t Christmassy.”

“They are when they’ve been drinking Christmas moonshine all night.”

“Everyone in Smuggler’s Hideaway sure loves to discuss moonshine.”

I freeze. “Have you not sampled any of Smuggler’s Hideaway’s moonshine yet? Your buddy Eli makes several flavors atBuccaneer’s Whiskey & Distillery.”

He shivers. “I learned freshman year of college not to drink anything Eli offers me ever again.”

“Landlubbers always fall for it.”

“Fall for what?”

My kitchen timer goes off and I rush to my oven. This batch of macaroons is perfect. I remove the tray and set it on the table. Once they’ve cooled, I’ll fill them with green buttercream. The red and green combination is perfect for Christmas.

“Go ahead and get your coffee.” I motion to the café without lifting my gaze from my perfectly round perfections.