Page 15 of The Dating Ban (Mind the Corbin Brothers #1)

Chicken Soup for the Army of Gnomes

Ivy

I groan, rubbing my temple.

Lucy is practically vibrating with excitement; her eyes locked on my coffee table as if it holds the greatest treasure she’s ever seen. Theo, meanwhile, looks utterly lost.

“Santas?” he repeats, eyebrows raised.

I sigh, stepping aside. “They’re not Santas.”

That’s all the invitation Lucy needs. She dashes past me, straight to the coffee table, and crouches down, her hands hovering just above the collection of carefully arranged figures.

“They look like Santas,” she announces, inspecting them closely.

“They’re not,” I correct, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before shutting the door behind them. “They’re gnomes. ”

Theo takes in the scene—the coffee table covered in fully painted figures, each one detailed with pointed hats in either deep red or dark blue, all decorated with intricate Nordic white patterns.

Their round noses are pink, peeking out from beneath their hats, and their faces are nothing but fluffy white beards dusted with a subtle shimmer.

No eyes. No cheeks. Just an army of faceless, festive little creatures.

Then he notices the breakfast bar.

“Oh, wow,” he mutters.

That’s where the unfinished ones sit—dozens of them, still grey, waiting to dry. Some are completely shaped, others still need details carved into their beards, but they’re all lined up like tiny recruits awaiting inspection.

Theo gives me a look. “I feel like I should be more surprised by this, but somehow, I’m not.”

I scowl at him. “I needed something to do while I was stuck inside.”

He smirks. “So, naturally, you made a small army of gnomes.”

“It’s not an army,” I cross my arms, fully prepared to defend my choices. “I ordered too much clay.”

Theo raises an eyebrow. “And you had to use all of it?”

“Well, obviously,” I say, as if that should be clear.

“At first, I thought I’d try making a bowl.

” I grab the thing from the shelf behind me and hold it up.

It’s supposed to be round, but it’s—well…

not. More like a lumpy oval with uneven edges, a slight dip in one side like it gave up halfway through drying.

Theo stares at it, then blinks. “Right. That’s… a bowl.”

I huff. “It was my first attempt. ”

Lucy peeks up from the coffee table, looking intrigued. “It looks wobbly.”

“Thanks, Lu,” I mutter, setting it back down. “Then I thought, okay, jewellery. So, I made some little pendants and beads. But it turns out, the clay was too brittle when it dried, and most of them cracked. Some just snapped when I tried to thread them onto anything.”

I grab a small dish where I’ve stashed a few. Some of the pendants are still intact, but a couple have jagged edges where they broke. Theo picks one up, turning it over in his fingers.

“Yeah,” I say, sighing. “Not exactly a success.”

“So, after all that… gnomes?” he asks, eyeing my coffee table.

I shrug. “I saw some online, thought they looked fun. And they are fun. Plus, they’re easy to make.

You don’t have to worry about symmetry or anything.

Just a hat, a nose, and a beard.” I gesture to the coffee table, where my little flock (no, it is definitely not an army) stands proudly. “See? No faces, no stress.”

Lucy has been staring at them this whole time, completely entranced. Her little hands hover just above the table, like she’s dying to pick one up but doesn’t quite dare.

I smirk, then crouch down beside her. “You know,” I say casually, “I could let you have one.”

Her eyes snap to mine, wide and sparkling. “Really?”

I nod. “If you want one, you can pick from the painted ones.”

She gasps, looking back at the table like I’ve just asked her to choose a favourite star in the sky. “But which one?” she whispers, overwhelmed by the sheer responsibility of the task.

Theo chuckles. “Take your time, Lu. It’s a big decision.”

Lucy nods seriously, then begins her inspection, picking up each gnome gently, turning them over in her tiny hands, and murmuring things like, “This one’s got a nice hat,” and “Ooooh, look at this beard.”

Meanwhile, Theo nudges one of the little figures with his finger. “You know, you could sell these.”

I snort. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious,” he says, folding his arms. “People would buy them.”

I roll my eyes. “They’re not that good.”

“They don’t have to be perfect. They just have to be cute. And these?” He gestures at the coffee table. “They’re cute.”

I shake my head, unconvinced. “No one’s gonna buy my weird little gnomes.”

“They would,” he insists. “In the right setting.”

“Oh yeah?” I cross my arms. “And where exactly do you plan on selling them?”

Theo shrugs. “I’ll put them up in the café.”

I blink. “What?”

“In November,” he clarifies. “Not now, obviously. No one’s thinking about Christmas in June.”

I scoff. “So what, you’re just going to display them next to the strudel and hope someone impulse-buys a gnome with their Melange?” I am getting better at that Austrian coffee stuff.

He grins. “Stranger things have happened. ”

Before I can argue, Lucy finally gasps dramatically and holds up her chosen gnome. A red-hatted one with a particularly fluffy-looking beard.

“This one!” she announces proudly.

I nod. “Good choice.”

She beams and cradles it carefully, like she’s just won a grand prize.

Theo just shakes his head, smirking. “Well, congrats, Ivy. You’re officially in the gnome business.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll send you an invoice for my first million.”

Theo just smirks, but before he can reply, he pulls the soup container from the bag and holds it out to me. “Here,” he says, his voice softer now. “Eat something proper.”

I take it from him, fingers brushing his for the briefest second.

“Thanks,” I say, and for some reason, this thanks feels so much more meaningful than the thousands of thanks we throw around each day.

For a moment, neither of us moves. It’s quiet, apart from Lucy singing to herself as she inspects her gnome.

Theo watches me, something unreadable in his expression, and for the first time in weeks, I realise how nice it is to have a man…

someone looking out for me. Not because they expect anything back, not because they’re waiting for me to do something in return—just because we’re friends. Because they care.

And apparently, I don’t know what to do with that.

“Can I help you make them?” Lucy pipes up suddenly, shattering the moment.

“What? ”

“The gnomes!” She holds up her chosen one proudly. “I wanna help!”

I chuckle, shaking off the weird feeling still lingering in my chest. “Tell you what—I’ll keep some clay aside. When I’m better, you can come over and make some with me.”

Lucy gasps, delighted. “Really?”

“Really,” I promise.

She clutches her gnome to her chest like she’s just been given the greatest honour in the world. “Okay! But I want to make lots!”

“We’ll see how you do with one first, yeah?” I tease.

Lucy nods, satisfied, and Theo lifts her in his arms. “Alright, gnome queen, I think we should let you get some rest,” he says, looking at me again. “You are going to rest, right?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, Sir.”

He smirks, but there’s something softer behind it. He doesn’t push, doesn’t make a big deal out of it, just checks. And weirdly, I don’t hate it.

I walk them to the door, Lucy leaning against Theo’s shoulder, already chatting to her gnome like it’s a new best friend.

“Thanks again,” I say, lifting the soup slightly.

He nods. “Feel better, Ivy.”

Then they’re gone, and I’m left standing in my doorway, staring at the space where they just were.

The office of Woods & Dubois is exactly as I remember—too bright, too loud, and already filled with the unmistakable scent of someone’s overly ambitious meal prep, despite it barely being nine in the morning.

I step inside, adjusting the strap of my bag, and spot Christa at the front desk, typing aggressively, her brows furrowed in frustration.

“Either you’re hard at work or drafting a furious resignation email,” I say, leaning against the counter.

She startles slightly, then looks up, eyes lighting up with a grin. “Oh my God, look who it is! Back from the dead.”

“It was a cold, Christa, not the plague.”

She leans back in her chair, arms crossed. “Yeah, well, judging by the way Theo the Hot Barista was talking about you last week, I was expecting a tragic farewell announcement.”

I groan. “Do not call him that.”

She shrugs. “I can’t help it. It’s accurate. And it annoys you.”

I shake my head. “He’s not even a barista. He owns the place.”

“Right, but Theo the Hot Coffee Shop Owner doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

I sigh. “Why were you even talking to him?”

Christa gives me an exaggerated look. “I was getting coffee. Like a normal person. And he was asking how you were.” She tilts her head, eyes sharp with amusement. “Very concerned, by the way.”

My face warms slightly, which is ridiculous. “He was just being polite.”

She smirks. “Sure. ”

I ignore her. “Anyway, he did look after me. Brought soup. Lucy made me a get-well card.”

Christa clutches her chest. “That child is too precious.”

“She’s a cheeky monkey… but adorable, I give you that.”

“All Theo’s doing, I guess,” she muses. “He’s got the doting single dad thing down. He’ll be fighting off school mums left and right.”

I huff a laugh. “His yoga instructor definitely fancies him.” Ah, there is the bitter taste again . The same one I have every time Safiya talks to Theo.

Christa grins. “Can you blame her? A man who owns a coffee shop and knows how to braid hair? He’s basically a rom-com lead waiting to happen.”

Before I can reply, a too-polished voice cuts through the air behind me.

“Oh, Ivy! Lovely to see you in the office.”

I don’t even have to turn around to know who will ruin my day in like five seconds. Caroline.

I school my expression before facing her. She stands there, immaculate as always—perfectly pressed blouse, sharp bob, a polite smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.