Page 2 of Savoring Christmas (Sugarville Grove #8)

Mia laughed softly. “I still don’t know how he got up there. I’m just glad Abby knew exactly what to do. He’s back to his usual self—stealing biscuits when I’m not looking. I love that little dog like she’s my child. It’s kind of ridiculous.”

“Not according to my wife,” Luke said. “She says all dogs have souls, and they come to us just when we need them most.”

A flash of pain crossed Mia’s face. “It seems that way to me. Cannoli came into my life when I really needed a new best friend.”

New best friend?

“Did your other dog die?” Logan blurted out.

Mia flinched. “What? No. She’s my first dog.”

“Oh, right. Duh.” Duh? Logan inwardly groaned. He was truly a mess in front of this woman.

“I just had a great idea. Just came to me. Logan should take your class.” Max widened his eyes as if innocent of meddling, which Logan knew was not the case. “He’s a terrible cook. And he’s single, you know, so he has tons of time on his hands.”

“Would you be interested?” Mia asked, her gaze back on Logan. “I’d love to have you.”

“Uh … well. Thanks. I mean … uh …maybe. Let me know. When and stuff.”

Max elbowed him under the table. “Kris just said it was starting on Tuesday.”

“Do you cook much?” Mia asked Logan.

“God, no. I’m a wreck in the kitchen. If it weren’t for family dinner every week, I might starve.”

“All the more reason to take my class,” Mia said. “It’s going to be all the basics. Everyone should be able to master the dishes, no matter your experience level.”

“You haven’t seen this one in the kitchen,” Max said, chuckling. “He set Mom’s kitchen on fire last Christmas.”

“That’s an exaggeration.” Logan shot his brother a dirty look. “It was only a dish towel. And I can’t be blamed. Our mother’s kitchen is a zoo during our annual cookie decorating party. Kids and dogs and sticky stuff everywhere.”

Sounds lovely to me,” Mia said.

“You should come this year,” Luke said.

If Logan had had a weapon in his possession, he might have used it just then.

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly impose on a family event,” Mia said. “But thank you. That’s very kind of you. Anyway, looks like the game’s about to start. I should get back to Remi. He’s very excited about tonight.”

“As are we,” Max said.

“All right, see you later then.” Mia gave them a quick smile before walking back to her table.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Max turned to Logan, his eyes sparkling with repressed laughter. “Logan, what’s up with you? Whenever she comes around, you act like you’re in seventh grade.”

Logan glared at him. “You guys are all on my bad list.”

“I’m innocent,” Nolan said. “It’s these other two—acting like a matchmaking mama from a Regency novel.”

Whatever that meant. Nolan was an English professor, who often made references only his wife understood. She owned the book store in town, which made them a perfect nerdy pair.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Max reached for the pitcher of beer to pour himself another glass. “I think she likes you.”

“No way she likes me,” Logan said. “Plus, now she thinks I’m a pyromaniac, thanks to you idiots.”

Luke exchanged a look with Max. “I say we make tonight interesting.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Whatever you’re thinking—no. Just no.”

“Let’s make a wager.” Luke grinned like he used to when they were kids and he knew he’d won whatever game they were playing. “If Nolan and I beat you and Max, you have to attend Mia’s cooking class. Every Tuesday and Thursday. No excuses.”

Max laughed, thumping the back of his head on the booth in obvious glee. “And if we win?”

Luke shrugged, as though it wasn’t a big deal. “Then Nolan and I work the town’s Christmas food drive. Wearing adult-sized flannel onesies and antlers.”

“You must feel pretty confident. A fatal mistake.” Max smacked the tabletop with the heel of his hand. “We’ll take that bet.”

“For heaven’s sake,” Logan said. “Why do I hang out with you guys?”

“I’m so confident that I’m ordering the onesies right now from my phone.” Max tugged his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. “Red plaid. With the drop seats.”

Logan nodded, getting into it despite himself. “And big fuzzy reindeer slippers.”

“How does Max always get out of everything smelling like roses?” Nolan asked. “He’s the only one with nothing on the line.”

“It’s just the way of the world,” Max said. “I’m the golden child—and you all know it.”

The microphone squealed with feedback as Kris tapped it, the sharp sound cutting through the buzz of conversation in the room. He surveyed the crowd. “Okay, folks, let’s do this thing. The moment you’ve all been waiting for—the most anticipated trivia match of the year.”

The crowd whooped and whistled.

“But tonight,” Kris continued, “it’s not just a family throwdown. We’ve got a full house of competitors ready to fight for the prize: dinner for two at Mia’s.”

He swung an arm toward the bar. “In the back corner, The Mooseketeers , led by our favorite bartender, Maggie. Let’s hope you can spell better than you pour.”

The crowd laughed, Maggie lifting her pint in a mock toast.

Kris pointed toward the dartboard. “We’ve got The Library Lions , both a book club and a trivia team.”

A group of silver-haired ladies cheered from the back of the room, one of them waving a fist over her head. “We’re here to win, Kris.”

Next, Kris gestured toward the mail carriers in matching hats. “And, of course, The Sugarville Santas ! My fellow postal warriors. They know every mailbox in town, but can they name the capital of Vermont?”

The Santas jingled their hat bells, getting booed good-naturedly by their neighbors.

Finally, Kris turned toward a small table near the center. “And we have a new entry this year: Mia Bianchi and Remi Hart, competing under the name La Dolce Vita. Very clever. But not to worry, folks. They won’t take the prize of dinner at their own restaurant. That will go to the runner up.”

After more cheering, Kris pivoted toward the two front tables. “And we’ve got Hayes versus Hayes. Luke and Nolan Hayes—calling themselves Golden Pour. And Logan and Max Hayes, playing together under the name Sticky Situation. Sounds like what we should’ve called them when they were in high school.”

The crowd laughed as only locals would. Max and Logan had been notorious for getting themselves into sticky situations during their teenage years.

Logan cringed, remembering a few of the doozies.

One Fourth of July they’d rigged up a backyard fireworks show and accidentally set their dad’s barn on fire.

Fortunately, it had only taken out an old stack of hay bales and a rusted tractor seat no one had touched in twenty years.

One winter they’d decided to sled down a hill on an old door, crashing through a snowbank and right into Old Man Hensley’s woodpile.

That had resulted in a broken arm—Logan’s—and a bloody nose—Max’s.

Not to mention being forbidden from sledding for the rest of the season. Their mother had not been amused.

Kris began round one. “General Knowledge is the category. Question one. Which planet is known as the Red Planet?”

Logan and Max huddled together, speaking softly so that none of the other teams could hear them.

“Mars,” Logan said.

“Easy,” Max said. “Even Bianca knows that one.”

“What’s the tallest mountain in the world above sea level?” Kris asked.

“Everest,” Max said. “Which is not on my bucket list, by the way.”

“In which country did the Olympic Games originate?” Kris asked.

“Logan wrote down Greece.

“What’s the hardest natural substance on Earth?”

“Diamond,” Logan said.

“Pretty sure it’s your attempt at biscuits,” Max whispered.

“Now on to round two,” Kris said. “Movies & Music. “Question one. Which movie features the quote, ‘Life is like a box of chocolates’?”

“ Forrest Gump ,” Max said instantly. Logan wrote it down on their sheet.

“Who is known as the ‘King of Pop?’”

“Michael Jackson,” Logan said without hesitation.

“Not Elvis?” Max asked.

“No, definitely not,” Logan said.

“Which Beatles song opens with the line, ‘Living is easy with eyes closed ?’”

“Who knows?” Max asked.

Logan gave him a haughty smile, before writing down Strawberry Fields Forever . “Everyone knows that one.”

Not me,” Max said.

“Final question in the category. In the movie Top Gun , what’s Maverick’s real name?”

“I have no idea,” Logan said.

“Pete Mitchell,” Max said, sounding sure. Logan wrote it down.

Kris moved on to the next round. “My personal favorite. Food & Cooking. We all know who’s likely to win this round.” He gestured toward Mia.

“What spice is traditionally used to flavor the Greek dish moussaka?” Kris asked.

“Oregano?” Max guessed.

“Sounds Greek-y enough,” Logan said, jotting it down.

“What type of pasta’s name means ‘little worms’ in Italian?” Kris asked.

Max nodded. “I know this one. Vermicelli. Bianca’s mom used to make it fresh at the restaurant in Florence.”

Logan wrote it down.

“Which country is the origin of the dessert pavlova?”

“It’s either Australia or New Zealand. They both claim it,” Max said with confidence.

Logan shrugged. “Okay, world traveler, which do I put?”

“Both. But make a note that it’s in dispute between the two countries,” Max said.

“What French term describes a bundle of herbs tied together and used to flavor soups and sauces?” Kris asked.

Max squinted, tapping his forehead. “What’s it called? Oh yeah, bouquet garni.”

Logan wrote it down, but not before asking how to spell garni.

“Final question. In French cuisine, what mixture of diced carrots, onions, and celery serves as the flavor base for soups and stews?”

“Roux,” Logan said. “Mom does that for Mac and Cheese.”

Max frowned. “Isn’t a roux flour and butter?”

“No way,” Logan said. “I’m sure it’s roux.”

“Fine. Suit yourself,” Max said. “But don’t blame me if we lose.”

Several of the servers scurried around the room collecting score sheets. The room buzzed as Kris tallied them up. Finally, he returned to the mic.

Logan was starting to doubt the answer to the last question. What if it wasn’t roux but something else? He glanced at Max. A smile twitched at the corners of Max’s mouth. “You better not have just made us lose by not fighting me on roux,” Logan whispered.

“You never listen, so why bother?” Max asked, looking way too pleased with himself. “Anyway, I did it for your own good. You need to be in that cooking class.”

“I’m going to murder you in your sleep,” Logan whispered.

Up front, Kris returned to the podium. “We have a winner. In first place—with 25 points—is Golden Pour. A perfect score, by the way.”

Luke and Nolan raised their glasses in victory.

“Oh, I cannot wait to see you head into cooking class,” Luke said with an evil glint in his eyes. “This is going to make my whole holiday season.”

Logan’s heart sank. This was bad. He couldn’t take Mia’s class. It was surely a situation that would bring out his worst qualities. Competitive. Questioning of authority. Impatience with himself when he didn’t know how to do something well.

“Maybe you’ll enjoy it,” Nolan said, clearly trying to be helpful.

Logan groaned out loud. “No way I’m going to that class.”

“You’re an honorable man,” Luke said. “You have to.”

“Or I’ll tell Mom,” Max said.

“You’re supposed to be my partner,” Logan said, growling. “Which means you should have to go with me.”

“You know I don’t need to. I have Charlie.” Max patted his shoulder, a smug grin lighting up his face. “Darn, this was a good night.”

“I’m going to kill all of you in your sleep,” Logan said.

“Fatal error, brother,” Max said. “The classic French aromatic mix of diced carrots, onions, and celery is called mirepoix. Which I know because I lived in France for several years. Maybe you’ll learn all about it in cooking class.”

This brought gales of laughter from his brothers. He really was going to kill them.