A Wood-Fired Christmas (Mistletoe Kisses)

Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

WHAT HAD JUST happened?

As they pulled up at Loveless, Ezra kept thinking, None of this went right. Lacey shouldn’t even be here, but Shelly should have been, and he shouldn’t have been out on a delivery at all. The people who’d ordered eight pies should have had a working oven. They should have had better control over their guests, for that matter. Ezra should have threatened to call the cops or refused them delivery, except it had all happened so fast.

On Lacey’s face had been an expression of fear. Fear, but resolve to kiss him if it meant keeping a customer happy. Half a second, and it would have been over, just a peck on the lips. No one would have demanded a romantic movie-ending embrace with the swell of violins in the background, and why not throw in a sunset why they were at it? Although it was Maine in November, so the sun was actually setting.

An air-kiss over her hand had been the only way out.

Except…for a moment, he’d had the impression Lacey would be really nice to kiss.

That was what left him shaken. Not the way customers could be dolts or the fact that they’d gotten a wad of cash in exchange for miming a kiss that hadn’t taken place. No, it was the momentary way he’d taken leave of his senses and realized kissing her would feel amazing.

That was the woodsmoke talking. They’d worked together all day, and he’d forgotten for a moment how she wanted to destroy his pizzeria and his job and by extension his whole future. Talk about short-sighted.

Impulses weren’t known for their long-term planning. That’s why they got tamed.

Back inside, Lacey headed straight for the tip jar to shove in the wad of cash. She said to Shelly, “Are you doing better?”

Shelly had her head resting on crossed arms on the countertop. “Yeah, but you have an order. I told them forty minutes.”

Ezra checked the oven temperature, then went to wash his hands. He took a long time doing it. Palms. Fingers. Back of the hand. Around the sides. Everything the way you learned when you got certified, except he was taking a lot more care than he needed to right now because behind him, Lacey kept making sure his sister was okay.

Why did Lacey care? Except maybe she did care?

All day, she’d been working hard for the pizzeria. Even Barrett hadn’t started out that way. He’d certainly never delivered a pie further than the table where his buddies were camped out. At no point today had Lacey balked at any task, even the ugly parts. She’d washed equipment and scrubbed the stove top and sliced onions and roasted the turkey sausage.

Come to think of it, she’d never refused any job. The only times she’d hesitated were when she wasn’t sure she could do it, not because it was gross. Never because it was beneath her.

With his hands rinsed and dried, Ezra returned to the counter. Shelly was holding out the order sheet. “Four pies, going to the police station. And before you ask, the order didn’t come from the cops. Someone ordered it to be sent there, so we might get turned away at the door.”

Ezra snorted. “Seriously?” and started tossing a dough.

Lacey said, “Did you charge their card yet?” When Shelly said she had, Lacey said, “Refund half of it. This part’s on us.”

Ezra fumbled the toss, wondering if the first time he dropped a dough would be right now, in front of Lacey. He caught it, though, and the act of tossing them helped steady his nerves. Lacey topped each pizza while he spread out the next, and then he slid them into the wood-fired oven. He felt hot, but he couldn’t tell if it was heat from the work or heat from the near-kiss. What was the matter with him?

Why would he look at the instrument of his destruction and think, “Hey, she’s kissable”? Or, “Hey, she’s being nice to my sister and to the police department”?

Shelly told Lacey more about her trip into Hartwell with a dying car, and Lacey sounded horrified. Maybe she’d never driven for three months at a shot with the check engine light on, or changed her route because a dying transmission wouldn’t make that one big hill. Ezra could fight the attraction by remembering exactly what he was dealing with: a rich girl, out of touch with reality, who thought of pizza as either a backup meal when your regular food went to heck (as if anyone could afford that?) or a “dining experience,” and something to fancy up with organic this and locally sourced that.

The pizzas came out of the oven and into the boxes. Lacey stacked them in the thermal bag, but Shelly had already pulled on her jacket. “I can make this trip. Ezra, I’m taking your keys.”

Lacey said, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, gotta get back in the saddle.” Shelly snorted. “Maybe my car will see me drive off in Ezra’s and get jealous enough to fix itself,” and then the door banged behind her.

Ezra really, really, really did not want Lacey to mention that near-kiss, so he preemptively changed the subject. “Why give the cops half off?”

“Emergency responders,” Lacey said. “They’re not only working a holiday, but they’re probably handling the worst parts of humanity. Things like an angry drunk great-uncle throwing boiling gravy at his grand-niece because the potatoes weren’t mashed enough.”

Ezra snorted. “It’s not a fun holiday until the cops show up. Then it gets really fun.” He waved her over. “Wash your hands and come here.”

When Lacey stepped up to the counter, he handed her a dough and the small wooden rolling pin. “First, make sure you’ve got plenty of semolina flour all over it.” She set it on the counter and flipped it over. “Roll that to about ten inches in diameter.”

Lacey’s head tilted. Heaven help him, but she looked cute when she was puzzled. “You’re going to make me do geometry? I never remembered radius and diameter and circumference.” With the rolling pin over the dough, she hesitated. “This isn’t going to be fit for human consumption.”

“We call them Sunday Pies, because they’re holey .” Ezra warmed up inside when she groaned. “I always make a couple extra doughs, so you can ruin this if you want.”

“You say want as though I have a choice.” Lacey worked the rolling pin in a smooth motion, but slow. “My choice would be to keep rolling it in different directions, but when you roll, it’s always in the same direction while you rotate the dough.”

She’d been watching him? Ezra said, “You’re doing fine.”

When she had it about the right size, he said, “Now pick it up in your right hand, on your palm, and toss it up so you can catch it again.”

She froze. “This is going to be a disaster.”

Ezra shrugged. “It’s just dough, and we won’t sell out today anyhow.”

She gave it a…well, not a toss. More like a jerk. The thing probably hadn’t left her hand. Ezra said, “Lame.”

“I’m going to destroy it.” She did it again, and this time it at least got airborne, but it didn’t spin.

Ezra said, “May I?” and rested his hand over hers to demonstrate. “Give it a little rotation.” He gestured slowly, her wrist relaxing under his as he got her used to the motion. The rest of her was completely tense. “I’m serious about this. If you’re going to own a pizzeria, you need to toss the dough.”

Lacey gave it a reasonable toss, so it spun. She caught it, eyes bright with delight. “I did it!”

He grinned. “Do it a few more times.”

“I’m a pizza goddess,” she declared, and this time she dropped it onto the counter. “Not much of a goddess. Not even an idol. Oh, well.” She tried again. “Who came up with this? Why not roll it the whole way?”

Ezra said, “Tossing is faster, plus it makes the crust crustier. The inside gets thinner, and the outside doesn’t. Now it’s large enough to start catching it in two fists,” he said. “Catch it so it drapes.”

“All those words are English, but it sounds like you expect me to do that.” She tried, and then laughed, but it wasn’t a bad attempt. “I’m going to tear a hole in it.”

“I already said, it’s just dough.” He waved her on. “Again.”

She did it again with more confidence. As the dough grew, her hands naturally spread apart as she caught it, and finally she said, “When do I stop?”

“One more,” he said, and then he had her lay it out on the counter.

She frowned at the misshapen circle. “You couldn’t sell this.”

“I’ve seen worse.” When she didn’t lighten up, he added, “It didn’t hit the floor, so let’s get it topped up.”

Lacey snickered. “Someone’s going to eat this?”

Ezra nodded “Of course.”

“Pour soul.” She spread the sauce, and then he topped it with cheese, onions, turkey sausage, and mushrooms. No orders had come in for a bit, so he waited until Shelly stepped back into the shop before shoving it into the oven.

Shelly unzipped her jacket. “The cops were surprised, but happy. I think they called an APB and made all units race back to the station to grab a slice.”

Lacey said, “And anyone in the lockup?”

“Nah, those folks get to suffer with a mushy turkey sandwich while the officers chow down in front of them. Or maybe not. It’s not like they gave me a tour.” She glanced at the oven. “Oh, good, another run.”

Ezra said, “We’re winding down. I may let the oven cool.”

“Bummer.” Shelly stretched. “Looks like you two raked in the tips today.”

Lacey said, “You’re still splitting tips. It’s not your fault the car died.”

Ah, right. The Rich Girl who could pass up perfectly good cash because…because she could.

At just the right moment, Ezra reached into the oven with the pizza peel and pulled out the bubbling pie, then set it directly on the counter. Four zips with the pizza cutter, and it was all set. “Dinner is served.”

Lacey laughed. “I get to eat my own mistake?”

Shelly glanced at Ezra. “You let her make the pizza? You never let me make a pizza.”

“She’s about to own the place.” That wasn’t good enough for Shelly, though, so he added, “She needed to learn.”

“Fine, fine.” Shelly shook her head. “I’m letting that cool down by about two hundred degrees before I touch it, though.”

While Ezra updated their social media to say they’d sold their last pizza for the day, Lacey set slices on paper plates and put a paper napkin to the left side of each. They ate at the counter, Ezra standing and Lacey and Shelly on the opposite side, on stools.

Ezra watched as Lacey took her first bite, and her eyebrows shot up. “Other than the crust, this is really good.”

Ezra said, “So I still have a job?”

“Yeah, I can’t replace you tomorrow.”

Ezra teased, “We’re closed tomorrow, so by Saturday…?”

Lacey crinkled her eyes at him. “Thanksgiving pizza sounded bizarre when you first said it, but it’s a good idea.”

Shelly said to Ezra, “That’s two reasons you still have a job.”

Ezra took a bite so he wouldn’t have to reply.

Lacey said, “Fun innovations like this are why I want to expand what Lovelace offers.”

Ezra swallowed quickly so he could say, “Please don’t start that again.”

Lacey said, “You can see you had a good idea. I’m telling you that this was a good idea—”

“And I’m telling you, it’s a once a year thing.” Ezra fought to keep his volume from rising. “We can’t have fifty thousand toppings and a farmer with an ox cart at the back door—”

Shelly rubbed her hands together. “Oh, goodie—a fight! Just like the holidays at home.”

Lacey said to Shelly, “He told me it’s not a fun holiday until the cops show up, but then we showed up for the cops.”

“No one’s calling the cops, and it’s not that kind of fight.” Ezra glared back at Lacey. “We make good pizza. Everyone knows what they’re getting. There’s no reason to change.”

Lacey didn’t reply. No, why would she? After she took over, she could alter whatever she wanted at any moment, and his input wouldn’t matter.

Regardless, the pizza was good. And Lacey still had that magnetic tug on him. Him, showing her how to toss pizza. How to roll it. How to get it into and out of the oven.

And her, looking as if she’d have let him kiss her.

None of it made, sense, so Ezra ate the pizza, and he tried not to think about her. Or at least, not think about her too much.

Shelly didn’t even wait for Ezra to turn on the engine. “Are you hot for her?”

The starter died, and Ezra recoiled. “What? Can you at least let me just drive you home without—”

“—without pointing out that you stare at her constantly?”

The engine turned over this time. “I do not.”

“Right, I didn’t just watch your eyes boring into Lacey the entire time I was there.” Shelly snickered. “Either you hate her or you love her, or maybe it’s both, but seriously, the infatuation has got me rolling.”

He didn’t reply, so Shelly poked him with, “And you taught her to hand-toss a pizza?”

He pulled onto the road. “She has to learn.”

“Did you wrap your arms around her and stand at her back, breathing into her ear, ‘Here’s where to put your hands to make it grow—‘“

“Get your brain out of the gutter. If I touched her, the first thing she’d do is slap my hand.”

Well, except she hadn’t.

Shelly said, “You don’t sound so sure about that.”

“The delivery we did, the whole family was three sheets to the wind. They had mistletoe up.”

Shelly bounced in the seat. “Did you kiss her?”

Ezra scowled. “They wanted me to.”

Shelly prompted, “And?”

“And they went on about it! One lady, I thought she was going to slam me face-first into Lacey, so I did the only thing I could, and—”

“ Smooooooch ,” Shelly drawled.

“If you’ll let me finish, you pervert, I asked permission to take Lacey’s hand—”

“You kissed her hand!” she crowed. “That is so romantic!”

“I stopped just short of kissing her hand, but the family thought it was a real kiss.”

She collapsed back into the passenger seat. “Stop. I’m about to die here. That is the sweetest thing I’ve heard in a thousand years.”

“And that’s saying a lot, considering you’re only twenty-one.”

“You air-kissed her hand.” Shelly shook her head. “I need to tell everyone I know, and they’ll all line up for you. Except obviously you’re taken.” When Ezra snorted, she said, “Taken with Lacey. Your new owner.”

“Stop right there. She’ll own the shop. She won’t own me any more than she’ll own you.”

Shelly steepled her fingers beneath her chin. “Except she’ll own my big brother’s big ole heart.”

“Have you ever met us?”

“Your eyes were following her the whole time.” Shelly grinned. “I know you hate her guts, but other than being a hellion who’s intent on destroying your life, she’s pretty nice. She looked out for me when I staggered in like a wounded rat. She even had me split tips even though I wasn’t there for ninety-eight percent of the day.”

Ezra didn’t answer.

“Meanwhile, you hate her because she has ideas , but she hasn’t implemented them. She talks about them, and you shut her down.” Shelly shrugged. “I’d say, go along with her hairbrained notions, and then when they fail, be prepared to dial back and do what Loveless was doing before.”

Ezra muttered, “Love- lace .”

“Yeah, that’s just weird, but her name’s Lacey so maybe she can’t break the habit.” Shelly snickered. “And maybe the next time you end up under the mistletoe, you’ll want to take her in your arms for an actual kiss.”