A Very Merry Mess (Cider Cove Sweet Southern RomComs #3)

Ryanne

RYANNE

“More peppermint,” Mom declares, shaking the red and white container over our bowl of melted chocolate. Tiny flecks of crushed peppermint candy rain down, and I slap my hand over the bowl.

“Mom, stop it.” I pull the bowl closer to my side of the counter, narrowly avoiding a white chocolate and peppermint avalanche. “You are going to poison people.”

“Oh, you can’t poison people with peppermint.” Her eyes twinkle with mischief, and while I could’ve definitely drawn someone worse to bake with, Mom is a bit too serious for my taste. “In fact, you can never have too much peppermint.”

I look over to where Elliott peers into the big silver bowl my sister has parked him in front of. “You can definitely poison people with too much peppermint,” I yell.

Elliott looks up, his hazel eyes glowing from within. Yep, that’s a point for me. Of course, he burst into the theme song from Annie before he and Anna had even come in from the garage, so he’s for sure ahead in the game.

“It’s Christmas,” Mom says, and I gasp as a drop of liquid hits the back of my hand. She is legit adding more peppermint extract.

“Mom, my eyes are burning.” I snatch away the bottle of extract, holding it high above my head. “You have got to stop.”

“They’re peppermint logs, Ry,” she says so matter-of-factly. “The last thing we want is for them to be bland.”

I wipe tears from my eyes. “Not gonna happen, Mom.” I give her one of my kitty-cat glares. “How much Food Network have you watched to come up with that line?”

Mention a TV show. Point for me.

Down the counter, Elliott says in an overly loud voice, “I had no idea you could grind nuts into flour.”

Making a flour—point for him. I knew he’d get that one the moment Mom had drawn Anna’s name after Elliott’s. My sister is no-doubt making her famous Linzer cookies, and she’ll make the jam from scratch too. I should insist I get double points as a handicap for his partner being the Baking Queen.

Mom reaches for the peppermint extract bottle, and she nearly gets me while I’m distracted. “Please,” I say. “I’m taller than you.” It’s a blatant lie, but Mom just laughs that tinkling laugh that always makes me smile, even when I’m trying to be annoyed with her. “And second? We’re not making straight-up peppermint patties.”

I glance around the kitchen, where three of the five teams are now baking. “I have peppermint extract abuse happening over here. Who can take this bottle to save us all?”

“One bottle to save them all,” Elliott says, coming to my rescue. He grins at me, earning some points as he takes the offending bottle, and then he bounds back over to his station, exactly the way a golden retriever would.

Movie quote, put in baking context. He’s too smart for me.

“Oh, this is a little watery now,” Mom says, and I force myself to focus back on our cookies. We need to get them in the oven in the next twenty minutes, or we’ll run out of time during the decorating phase. Just the fact that I’ve thought the words “decorating phase” tells me how far I’ve fallen into my family traditions, and I don’t hate that.

“Yeah,” I gripe at her. “From all that liquid peppermint extract.”

“We’ll just add a bit more flour,” she says.

“Mom, that’s not how baking works.” I grin to myself as I pick up a rubber spatula to see what I can do with this batter. It should definitely be more fudgy, as we’ll need to roll it out like gingerbread, cut rectangles, and roll the cookies before they bake. “I didn’t ace algebra,” I say loudly. “But even I know what a trapezoid is.”

“Trapezoids are the building blocks of cookie-making,” Elliott says.

“What are you two talking about?” Anna asks, and it’s all I can do not to burst out laughing. I deliberately don’t look over to Elliott, or our little ruse will be discovered, and Anna will launch into what Anna does best: lecture.

“Just bonding over geometry,” I say sweetly, deciding we can add a little more powdered sugar to the batter. I dump some in with a little too much gusto. Point—make a powdered sugar mess. “Oopsie!” I yell, as that earns me another point. “Got a little too much snow over here!”

Elliott scoffs, but that’s only what it sounds like. He’s really trying to stifle his laughter. “Anna,” he says, and my sister thankfully returns her attention to him. “What’s jam made of?”

Oh, my word. I duck my head as my laughter starts, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably as Anna starts to boss him around the stovetop, where he’ll stand stirring the raspberries as they cook down into jam.

“What’s a trapezoid?” Mom asks, her cheeks flushed pink as she sets down her mug—that so has spiked eggnog in it. “I thought we just needed the rectangle cutter.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Yep. You didn’t mention you’d be eggnogging during our bake time.”

Mom only laughs a little, and I decide I have to be a little bit more like Anna. “Okay,” I say. “You’re going to start on the decor while I get these cookies rolled, cut, and in the oven.” I nudge her down the counter and point to the white melting chocolate. “Candy canes, Mom. Go wild with the peppermint.”

“Fifty minutes!” Danny calls from the living room. The kitchen has already seen two teams put together their concoctions, and there are mounds of sprinkles, globs of frosting, and even edible glitter remnants from their time.

It’s pure cookie chaos, this bake-off. And I sort of love it.

I glance over to where Elliott and Anna are meticulously rolling out their dough, a picture of baking bliss. Seriously, how does he do it? “My grandmother’s secret recipe involves singing to the dough at midnight.” He grins at Anna and then me. “I guess we don’t have time for that, though.”

“Singing at midnight?” Anna asks, her confusion absolutely priceless. “What does she sing to…the dough?” And she’s making things too easy for him. It’s so not fair.

“Oh, you know,” Elliott says. “Brittney Spears. Backstreet Boys. Yeah, yep. My granny loved boy bands.”

“Boy bands,” Anna repeats as if she doesn’t understand those two words in that order.

“Yeah,” I say. “You know, Anna. Bye, bye, bye—bye-bye!”

“What?” she asks, but Elliott’s eyes sparkle like all the stars in the sky.

“It might sound crazy, but it ain’t no lie…bye bye!” he belts out. “You know, like that.” He delivers the last line with a perfectly straight face, and he is so winning this competition. I don’t even care if he does. This has been the best cookie bake-off ever.

“Well,” I say with my mouth curved upward. No matter what I do, I can’t straighten out my smile. “Our cookies have been blessed by a unicorn, so they’re guaranteed to be magical.”

“Please,” Anna says. “Unicorns aren’t real.”

“You sure about that?” I ask, and Cosette turns from the counter behind us.

“Can you guys stop it? You’re giving me a headache.”

“I have the perfect remedy for that,” I say, nodding to Mom. “Peppermint.”

“Or dragon scales,” Elliott says, and I can’t stop myself from tipping my head back and laughing right out loud.

I jog the last few steps to the guest house, giggling. My glee is off the charts, even if my stomach aches a little from all the taste-testing I did. “That was awesome ,” I say as Elliott and I burst into the warm interior of the house.

“Incredible,” he says through his chuckles. He lets out all his breath and adds, “I totally won too.”

I can’t argue with him, so I just grin at him and say, “You absolutely did.” I laugh again.

“When you burst into that N’SYNC song, I seriously thought I was going to wet my pants.” He laughs too, and I sure like the sound of it. As we sober, our eyes meet, and I move over to him. Or maybe he moves closer to me. It’s probably simultaneous.

“You’re incredible,” I say just before he kisses me. His lips are chilly, touched with mint, and I simply can’t get enough of him.

Elliott dips his head, breaking out kiss, and murmurs, “I’m going to go change.”

“Yeah.” I step back and tuck my hands in my back pockets. “Yep, me too.”

He ducks away from me, and I watch him grab his shorts and tee from his side of the bed before going into the bathroom. Then I fly, hurrying to change into my pjs before he comes out. He’s in there for a couple of minutes, and I’m sitting in my spot in bed when he comes out.

He sighs as he climbs right over me, and I go, “Hey. What—? What is this?”

“The floor is cold.” He flops onto the bed and pulls the blanket out from behind his back. “It’s your night to build up the fire.”

I stare at him as I swipe up on my phone. Then I look back at it, but I don’t want to be in a kitty-cat mood. “You know what?” I say. “Today was so awesome.” I slide down under the covers too and roll toward him. He opens his arms to me, and I easily move into them.

“I’m surprised Katherine could carry your dad like that,” Ell says, his voice quiet as his breath wafts softly over my forehead. Katherine and Dad won the cookie bake-off which surprised no one except Elliott. Katherine has always been the quiet one, but she can bake like a champion, and her mint brownie cookie bars were pure perfection.

“She’s a good baker,” I say. “I nearly stole the victory from you.”

“Yeah, if your brother hadn’t called time, you’d have put your whole hand in that bowl of melted chocolate.”

I grin and grin. “Best day ever,” I say.

“Merry Christmas, Ry,” he whispers.

“Merry Christmas, Ell.” I tilt my head back. “Hey, did you talk to your family today?”

“Yeah,” he says, swallowing. “This morning.”

“You miss being there with them.”

“Sure do.” He holds me closer. “But Ry, I wouldn’t trade this time with you for anything.”

I smile, and if he’s not careful, he’ll make me think he’s getting really serious about our relationship. He dips his head closer and touches his lips gently to mine, and oh, he’s not going to be careful. My feelings for him multiply, and I can’t help it—I fall for him even more.

I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But he’s so warm and so good and so funny that I can’t help myself.

He pulls away and says, “Okay, I’m going to put on the next episode of that murder mystery, and I believe you promised me the coveted coconut M&Ms if I won our little contest.”

The rhythmic thump of the bass reverberates through my body as I lean closer to the window display, my breath fogging up the glass. My eyes widen at the outrageous price tag on a pair of sparkly red heels.

“My word.” I shake my head and turn to my sisters. “Who spends that much on shoes?”

Cosette lets out a low whistle. “Someone with a lot of credit card debt, probably.”

“Or,” Anna adds, her gaze glued to her phone. “Someone with a sugar daddy.”

I wrinkle my nose. “You’re both terrible.”

“And you love us anyway,” Cosette says, linking her arm through mine and tugging me toward the next shop in this quaint outdoor row, all of which have racks out front with their Boxing Day sales.

We’re in downtown Grayson Falls, and though the temperatures should be keeping us all inside, the sidewalks teem with people. The crisp winter air does little to dampen the festive spirit, and I find myself getting swept up in the excitement of the holidays. It’s exhilarating, being here with my sisters, a sense of camaraderie settling over me that I haven’t felt in years.

Maybe it’s the Christmas spirit, or maybe it’s the fact that we’re all a little bit older now, and while there’s still some competitive vibes between us, it’s nothing like when we were younger.

Anna tucks her phone away and links her arm through my other one. “I sure like Elliott, Ry.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” she says crisply as Cosette says, “He’s pretty great, Ry. Funny. Smart. Looks at you with stars in her eyes.” She laughs and nudges me with her hip.

“Sexy in those glasses,” Anna adds, giving me a side-eyed look I can’t interpret before Cosette squeals.

“Anna,” she chastises. “What a thing to say.”

“Please. I heard you telling Rob he should get his eyes checked in the New Year. You want him to get some sexy glasses like those blue ones Elliott wore to breakfast.”

I whip my attention back to Cosette, who holds her head high and shakes her hair over her shoulder. “I suggested the visit to the optometrist, because we have to use our flexible spending money before the end of January.” She rolls her eyes. “So there, Anna.”

“I do like Elliott’s glasses,” I say as Mom opens the door to a clothing boutique none of us but her will like. We’ll still go in, because that’s what we do on Boxing Day. We stick together, and we go into any shop anyone wants.

“I told him that he needs to invest in some better winter wear. The man wore a T-shirt to a Christmas tree cutting.” Anna shakes her head, then stops in front of a rack with plenty of what she speaks of.

“He’s from South Carolina,” I remind her. “It’s not like he has a closet full of winter wear.”

“Well, he’ll need to invest in some.” She casts a knowing look my way, and I wonder what she sees when she looks at me and Elliott. And just when I think she’s going to launch into one of her big sister lectures about how she always knows best, or how she can see things I just can’t, she simply pulls out a puffer vest and says, “I think James would like this.”

She’s chill today, which is especially surprising since she and Ell didn’t win the bake-off. Her Linzer cookies were delicious, but the jam was a little lumpy, and she didn’t have time to roll them all out to exactly the same thickness.

“Please. Your husband doesn’t need any more winter wear.” Cosette takes the vest and replaces it back on the rack. “Plus, I’ve seen him wear the other puffer vests you’ve bought for him, and just…no.”

I giggle but duck my head as I pretend to look at a ghastly sweater that Lizzie would swat my hand away from. I can hear her saying, “No, Ry. No stripes.”

Mom comes over to us and pulls out the exact sweater I’m looking at. “Ooh,” she says, holding it up to her body. “This is cute.” She looks at me, her eyebrows up, and I can’t keep a straight face.

“Ew, Mom, no,” Cosette says, and I let my laughter fly. It sure is nice to be out shopping with them, and for all the things that rub me wrong or make me roll my eyes about them, I do love my sisters and my parents.

Sometimes it just takes a very merry mess to remember why.

Now, all I can do is hope that the merry mess doesn’t continue once Elliott and I get back to Cider Cove. Elliott’s MO is to break-up with women when things get too serious, and while he’s said he’ll try with me, I’m simply not sure what will happen once we’re back to real life.