Puppy Love at Mistletoe Junction

Chapter Three Crash into Me

Theo stared at the open cashbox on his desk, that damned napkin from the darts game sticking out from under the change tray. The purple of Lucy’s loopy handwriting stood out against the white paper.

As he hadn’t wanted to be late for his date with Joss the night before, he’d skipped this particular closing duty and put the cashbox in the safe uncounted, deciding to deal with it in the morning. Except it hadn’t been the money he’d been avoiding dealing with.

And it was just too bad for Theo that locking that napkin up for the night had not pushed it from his brain like he’d wanted it to. Probably because it wasn’t just the napkin he’d been trying not to think about.

Theo really liked Joss, which was why he had a nagging sense of guilt all throughout their dinner, as he’d been thinking about another woman. It was also the reason why he’d said no when she invited him in for a drink. He’d had a pretty good idea what she’d wanted, based off the kiss she’d given him. It was something he’d wanted too—very, very much so—but the last thing he was going to do was take a woman to bed when he was thinking about someone else.

He was beyond aware of the fact that he needed to end things with Joss. He knew in his gut that things weren’t going to go further. It wasn’t because of her—she was great—it was clearly because of him.

But ending things with Joss wasn’t Theo’s only problem. He needed to figure out why he couldn’t stop thinking about Lucy.

It wasn’t his fault that she’d come into the bakery yesterday before his date with Joss. It wasn’t his fault that she’d been her usual antagonistic self that drove him crazy. It wasn’t his fault that she was so fucking beautiful it was distracting. It wasn’t his fault that he hadn’t been able to get the scent of vanilla and cloves out of his head since last Friday. It wasn’t his fault that he’d decided to make a cupcake that smelled like her.

He hadn’t meant to do it. He’d just planned on doing a spiced vanilla . . . just a sprinkle of cinnamon. But then he’d grabbed the cloves, and the ginger, and the cardamom, and the black pepper. He’d spent a good amount of time adding this and that until it was the right flavor . . .

Until it smelled like Lucy.

Once he’d realized what he’d done, he’d been tempted to dump the whole thing in the trash. All he needed was for the entire bakery to smell like her. But he hadn’t been able to do it. Not only did he hate wasting food, but there was a part of him that wanted to see how close he could get. And maybe, just maybe, he could bake whatever this was out of his system.

It was a tried-and-true technique that had worked many, many times over the years . . . but it hadn’t worked yesterday. No, it had made things exponentially worse. They had indeed sold out of the cupcakes before closing, which meant he was going to have to make another batch today . . . and if those sold out, he’d be making them all week.

Whenever there was a new flavor, word of mouth traveled very quickly around town, and he had no doubt that people would be coming in to get one for themselves. It was what happened when he’d made the sticky toffee cupcakes last Christmas; he couldn’t keep up with demand. Then there was the tiramisu cupcake he’d whipped up for Valentine’s Day last year. He’d had to make those the entire month, three to four batches a day. The longest run had been the strawberry–pink champagne cupcake . . . it sold out every single day this past spring.

He really didn’t like to disappoint his customers, which meant today was going to be another day of a Lucy-filled head.

Theo reached forward, lifting the change tray and tugging out the napkin from the till.

It had been Lucy who’d pulled the purple pen from her purse to keep score, telling Max that she liked the way it wrote better than the black ballpoint he’d gotten from behind the bar.

The paper soaks up the ink better, she’d said as she grabbed a clean napkin and wrote Theodore and Lucy across the top, underlining each name with a separate flourish.

It was such a small thing to pull up an old memory, a memory that he’d forgotten until that moment. Of her in his bed, wearing his T-shirt, the end of a pen between her lips as she looked down at a notebook, reading what she’d just written.

What is that? He’d walked across the room to her, pulling the blankets up and crawling between the sheets and settling in closer to her. It had been a chilly night in late October and his body craved her warmth.

But his body had craved her everything.

Working on a song. She didn’t look over at him as she moved the pen from her lips, crossing out a few words with a quick flourish before writing something next to them.

Can I see? he’d asked lightly, tugging on the edge of the notebook. I want to know more of what goes on in that pretty head of yours.

She’d held tight to the notebook, not letting him take it as she looked over at him. The corner of her mouth had quirked up in that way that drove him out of his ever-loving mind.

Not yet. She’d shaken her head. I haven’t finished writing it. When it’s done, I’ll play it for you.

Except she never had played it for him.

Theo rubbed the napkin between his fingers and was just about to toss it into the trash when his hand stopped and changed direction. He dropped it into the drawer in front of him instead, closing it with a snap before he started to count the cashbox.

He didn’t know what possessed him to save it . . . and he wasn’t going to look too closely at the why of it either.

* * *

Cardi B was blasting through the speakers at Mind otherwise, Mind there is no shame in my game.”

“There never has been any shame in your game.” He reached into the cart, grabbing the package of lotion and bodywash. He turned it over in his hands before taking a moment to study the label. “You should know”—he looked back up at her before he placed the package back in the cart—“this scent works on you.”

“What?”

“Have a good night, Lucy.” And with that he rounded her cart with his and headed off to the opposite side of the market. Lucy stared at the back of him, her mouth hanging open in confusion.

What the hell was that?

* * *

This scent works on you?

What in God’s name had possessed Theo to say that to Lucy? Had he lost his mind? Well, yes, that much had been clear when he’d come up to her.

He’d spotted her the second he walked into Fresh Harvest, like a homing beacon had been implanted in his brain and refused to turn off. Why was it that if she was anywhere in the vicinity, he always immediately found her?

She’d just been standing there, looking stupidly beautiful with her face in a bouquet of roses and wearing those damn yoga pants. But come on, she had curves in all the right places, and that stretchy material highlighted every single one. Not even her oversize yellow raincoat could hide them.

The thing about the entire situation that drove him the craziest was that his first thought was Lucy shouldn’t be buying herself flowers. And yes, he understood the whole thing of women could buy themselves flowers. They could buy themselves whatever they damn well pleased. They didn’t need a man. He got it.

But why, why was it that his very next thought had been that he wanted to be the one buying her flowers?

And then, and then he’d just had to grab that package of lotion and bodywash—the source of the scent he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about—and say one of the most insane things he’d ever said to her.

Vanilla, cloves, and cinnamon; that scent was going to be the death of Theo. That smell had never been this distracting in his life, but there was something about it being on Lucy’s skin that drove him crazy. But she’d been driving him crazy for weeks.

Well, if he was being honest, it had all started when she’d moved back to Cruickshank six months ago.

But that wasn’t entirely true either. It had started seven years ago, that very first time he’d kissed her.

No, it was further back than that. All of this had really started in high school, it just wasn’t nearly as intense as it was now.

And now he was saying ridiculous things like this scent works on you.

He’d had to walk away after he said it, otherwise he probably would’ve said something else stupid. Like that he, in fact, didn’t think she was basic. Or that he found it pretty fucking cute that she liked all of that stuff that she was buying. And how much he liked that she was unapologetically herself.

Yeah, none of that was an option. Saying any of that out loud would be insane, mainly because he liked those things that drove him crazy. He didn’t want to like anything about her. It was just too bad for him that he was too late for that.

Theo made his way through the aisles, grabbing what he needed for family dinner night at his parents’. His mom hadn’t had time to get groceries and she’d gotten delayed that afternoon with her last batch of blondie brownies. They were a bonus item added to the online cookie orders that would be shipped out that week. So Theo had offered to go while she finished up with the bake and closed down Browned Butter. It was a good thing she’d written him a list, otherwise he would’ve forgotten half of what was needed.

This scent works on you.

Had he really told Lucy that? God, he was such an idiot. Maybe that was why they didn’t always get along, because when she flustered him, he’d say the stupidest things to her. But then when he kept his mouth shut, he came off as a grumpy prick.

There really was no winning.

Theo made his way over to the next aisle but came to an abrupt stop when his cart crashed into someone else’s, everything bouncing around. He looked up to find that it was Lucy’s cart, because of course it was.

“I’m sorry,” Theo apologized.

“No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Well, that made two of them. “It was clearly my fault.” Theo waved a hand at their carts. “I ran into you.”

“I whipped around that corner pretty fast,” Lucy countered.

“Can you just let me apologize?”

“Fine. It’s your fault.” Lucy threw her arms in the air, very clearly exasperated with him.

“Thank you!” The words came out of his mouth with a little too much force, and the second he said them, Lucy burst out laughing.

He liked that sound a lot . . . which annoyed him even more. “What’s so funny?”

“Are we really arguing about who gets to apologize? We’ve reached a new low.”

Theo couldn’t help it: his own mouth cracked a smile. “It would appear so.”

Lucy bit her bottom lip as she glanced at his cart. “I think you have a casualty.” She pointed to the bag of chips that had been squashed by a container of sour cream. It had busted open and there were crushed blue corn chips spilling to the floor.

“Better them than the salsa.”

“Not that salsa. I see you’re doing Taco Tuesday,” Lucy said, her eyebrows raising high. “Who’s basic now?”

“Hey, it’s Gia’s thing. I don’t argue with her.” Theo grabbed the bag to stop more chips from spilling out. “And judging by the ingredients in your cart, you’re doing Taco Tuesday too.”

“Theo, it’s always Taco Tuesday in my house. I was just stocking up on ingredients.”

“Whatever . . . and what’s wrong with my salsa?”

A knowing smile spread across her pretty mouth, and he hated how much he liked it. “If you aren’t making it fresh, you should be buying the kind in the produce section. So. Much. Better.” She reached into her own cart, showing him the container. “There’s really no comparison. And I know that the pre-shredded cheese is more convenient, but if you want the best, you have to grate it yourself. But that’s just a general cheese rule. For tacos, I would specifically recommend Cotija cheese; it crumbles quite nicely. Shouldn’t you know this as a man of the culinary arts?”

Theo frowned at her. “I bake. If you want to discuss the uses of different flours, I’m your guy.”

At his words Lucy’s eyes widened, something flickering in the depths of that hazel green. But she didn’t comment on it, instead looked back to Theo’s cart. “Also, the premade guacamole is no good. Get some avocados, add fresh cilantro, lime juice, and some of this salsa. But make sure to drain it before you add it. Salt to taste.”

“Anything else I’m doing wrong?” Theo waved his hand at his cart. “Did I grab the wrong tomatoes? Is my lettuce choice subpar?”

Lucy shook her head. “Your tomato selection is good, but I’d go with the pre-shredded coleslaw mix. It lasts longer than the iceberg and has a better crunch. It’s one of the few areas in which convenience can be to your benefit. Enjoy your tacos, Theo.”

This time it was Lucy who maneuvered her cart around his and continued toward the dairy section. Theo watched her walk away until she turned a corner, somehow feeling even more off-kilter than a few minutes ago.

* * *

Theo could hear Taylor Swift playing the second he walked into his parents’ house, and it got louder and louder as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Took you long enough,” Gia said, dropping her pencil onto her notebook and pushing her chair back, the feet making a loud squeak on the tile floor.

“What are you talking about? It’s a quarter till six.” Theo’s delay in getting out of Fresh Harvest was because he’d begrudgingly gone back and gotten all of Lucy’s suggestions.

Fine, he wasn’t a master taco maker. He never made them on his own. Pico De Gallo had what were arguably the best tacos in North Carolina, and it was exactly five shops down from Browned Butter. If he was going to eat them, that was where he was going to go.

Theo’s specialties were sandwiches, mainly because he was all about that bread. Ask him to make a grilled cheese, and he couldn’t be beaten.

“Mom said you’d be here at five thirty, and I’m starving.” Gia grabbed one of the bags from his hands.

“Really? We’re counting fifteen minutes as late?”

“Star-ving,” Gia repeated with no small amount of drama as she started to pull out all of the contents. “Oh, this is the good salsa.” She looked at the plastic container before popping the lid and pulling off the plastic seal. She then grabbed the bag of chips and ripped them open. A long, satisfied groan filled the kitchen as she crunched down on the salsa-covered chip. “My mouth is happy now,” she said once she swallowed.

“You going to help me get dinner ready?” Theo asked as he grabbed a chip for himself and scooped up a generous amount of the salsa for his own taste test.

Damn it.

One bite and he knew Lucy was right: this salsa was far superior to anything he’d ever had in a shelf-stable jar. He still ate two more chips just to make sure.

“You going to cook the meat while I make the guacamole?” Theo asked.

“Sure,” Gia said around another mouthful of chip and salsa. She started pulling out the other stuff from the bag, stopping to study the cheese. “This is different cheese.”

“It crumbles. Apparently, it’s really good on tacos.”

“Fancy.” She grabbed the sour cream in her other hand, taking them to the fridge. She put them away before pulling out the steak that their mother had marinated.

“Where’s Dad?” Theo asked as he set up a cutting board and all of the ingredients Lucy said he needed.

“Working on his bike. Want me to get him to help?”

“Nah.” Theo shook his head. “I think we can handle it. Turn Taylor up.” He nodded to the little speaker in the corner.

“On it.” Gia nodded and a couple of seconds later, “Anti-Hero” filled the kitchen. Theo knew this one well, and he and Gia were singing along to it together. Once the song ended, she turned the music down a little, and he looked up to see her staring at him.

“What?”

She waved the tongs at his setup. “Fancy cheese, the good salsa, a different lettuce topping altogether, and guacamole made from scratch . . . what’s going on here?”

“Nothing.” Theo shrugged before he moved his focus back down to his hands, running the knife around the outside of the last avocado. “Someone told me this was better.”

“Who’s someone?”

“None of your business.” Theo carefully whacked the avocado pit with the knife before scooping out the contents into the bowl and adding them onto the mounting green pile.

“Is someone Joss?” Gia pressed.

“No.” Theo was pretty sure Joss wouldn’t be giving him any kind of cooking tips. It wasn’t that things had ended badly . . . they’d just ended. He’d taken her to get a coffee that afternoon but before he could tell her how he felt, she’d been the one to call it quits.

But Theo didn’t have time to dwell on what had transpired with Joss as Gia very loudly said, “Huh.”

Theo looked back up at his sister. “What are you huh-ing?”

“Nothing.” She shrugged before she looked back down to the meat she was cooking. “Just trying to figure out why you won’t tell me who someone is. I mean, if it was Oscar, or Sasha, or even Jeremy, Lilah, or Caro, you’d just say it was one of them . . .”

“What are you getting at, Gia?”

“There’s only one person who you wouldn’t tell me gave you the suggestions.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. The one person who gets under your skin like no other.”

“Lucy doesn’t get under my skin.” She wasn’t under anything that had to do with him.

Gia looked up, her mouth splitting into an enormous grin. “I knew it was Lucy.”

“Just focus on cooking the meat.” Theo pointed to the skillet in front of her with the spoon in his hand.

“Fine.” She emphasized the word with her own special amount of sass.

Theo just rolled his eyes, feeling his phone buzz in his pocket with a text. He pulled it out, seeing Lucy’s name on the screen. That was all he needed to see before he unlocked the phone to get to his messages. She’d sent him a picture of a line of ducks walking outside Sweeny Park. The mama was followed by a dozen little babies and underneath the picture she’d typed out bingo!

He didn’t understand the smile that pulled up the corners of his mouth . . . nor did he know what possessed him to respond with best two out of three.