Page 32 of Theirs for the Holidays

All three of the older brothers pull up chairs and sit on my side of the table.

“The more the merrier,” the owner says. “It helps to have more input about these things, even if the final decision comes down to the bride and groom.”

Her warm customer service smooths over some of the awkwardness, and she goes back to the back of the bakery, leaving cards to rank things and instructions to just holler if we have any questions.

We start the tasting with Andrew picking up a piece of chocolate cake and looking at how it’s labeled. “German chocolate,” he says. “That sounds good.”

Isabelle reaches to take a bite. “Let me try some.”

“That has coconut in it, Isabelle,” I tell her. “You won’t like it.”

“Oh, ew. Never mind then. Put that one down, Andrew.”

“I still want to try it,” he argues, taking a bite. “It’s good.”

“It’s gross, and I don’t want it at our wedding,” Isabelle fires back. She sounds like the spoiled princess she is, and Andrew doesn’t argue with her, just finishes his bite of it.

We all have some of the lemon cake and the red velvet next, ranking them on our little cards.

“The lemon is good,” Isabelle says, tapping her pencil. “But lemon at a winter wedding? What do you think, Vi?”

I chew my remaining piece, thinking. “It’s not strictly thematic,” I reply. “Not like something more spiced would be, but citrus fruits are popular in the winter, so you could get away with it if you really like it.”

She scribbles something down and we move on.

The next sample is carrot cake, and Sawyer takes a bite and makes an approving noise. “This is good. Delicious frosting.”

“Are you going to hoard it all for yourself?” I ask, teasing him. “Let me try some.”

He holds it out of my reach with a grin. “Nope, this is all mine. Get your own carrot cake, baby.”

I laugh at his teasing, playing along with the bit. I do also really want to try it if he says it’s that good. I try to grab for the piece he has, but he moves it away, standing up to keep it away from me.

I follow him across the bakery, caught up in it, laughing as I go up onto my toes.

“You’re too short,” he says, his eyes sparkling with humor.

“I’ll show you too short.” I start practically climbing him, trying to get at the cake. I feel light with amusement and the teasing, and the feeling of Sawyer’s muscled body against mine.

Behind us, Andrew makes an annoyed noise. “Let it go, Violet,” he says. “You don’t need the extra cake anyway.”

It’s like being slapped in the face, and it takes the wind out of my sails, all good humor and fun gone in an instant. My cheeks flame with embarrassment, and I slide down Sawyer’s body, abandoning the cake and the game.

But Sawyer doesn’t let me go.

Instead, he tugs me closer and turns our bodies so that my back is against the wall.

He leans in and my heart skips a beat before hammering hard against my ribs from his proximity.

“Nothing can compare to the stuff you make,” he murmurs. “But you really should try this.”

He holds it up, and I hesitate for a while. But the look on his face does something to me. He looks earnest and heated in a way that turns my bones to jelly. So I let him feed the cake to me.

And it’s really good. The spices warm and clear, the cake moist and light. The frosting is that good cream cheese kind that melts on my tongue, and Sawyer watches intently as I savor it, something burning in his eyes.

When I finish, he reaches up and brushes a small bit of frosting from the corner of my mouth, holding my gaze before sucking it off his thumb.

It’s just a small moment, his tongue flickering over his own thumb before he sucks it into his mouth, but it feels so much more intense than that. My face flushes, and something tightens low down in me. My legs wobble, like my knees could give out right here and now, and heat burns low in my belly.