Sprinkle All The Way (Evergreen Lake: Under the Mistletoe)

Chapter 11

eleven

VIOLET

“What do you think of starting with five flavors?” Noah asks me the next day.

I’m having a hard time focusing on the task at hand when all I can think about is ice skating last night and getting him close to me again. I almost spill flour all over myself again so I can take my shirt off to see what he would do. I can’t help but want to walk the line of friendship between us and stick one toe over to test him. See how much I would have to push him before he gave in, if he wants to give in at all.

“Five is good, not too many and not too little. What about this one?” I pick up one of the recipe cards from the table. They’re all scattered out in front of us, including several different versions of a chocolate chip cookie. Noah dumped them out when I arrived this morning with coffee and a muffin, telling me he wasn’t set on which cookies to bake for reopening.

“That’s more of a fall flavor,” he says, plucking the pumpkin pie cookie recipe from my hand. “I want to stay on theme with Christmas flavors like peppermint.”

“But don’t you plan to open after the new year?” I ask, confused as to why he would want flavors that are out of season.

“Yeah, but you know how much this town loves all things Christmas,” he says. “I bet I could do Christmas all year, and no one would complain. Maybe that’s how I get them to like me.”

I think about high school and what Ginger would do around the holidays. I remember a cookie with marshmallows on it that melted on my tongue. Or I’m making that up, and Noah snuck them on the cookie for me. Either way, I remember it being around Christmas.

“Is there a hot chocolate one?” I ask, searching for it.

“Maybe?” he says. “I’ve gone through these so many times now, and they all blend together. There should be a gingersnap one in here somewhere too.”

“Shut up, that would be so cute,” I shriek, causing him to jump.

“Jeez Vi, I don’t think everyone in Sips heard you,” he says, covering his ears.

“Come on, gingersnaps? Gingerbreads? Ginger!” I throw my hands in the air.

“I know.” He rolls his eyes, stepping closer to me and pulling my hands down, pinning them to my side. “Why do you think we need to find it?”

He’s so close to me now that I smell the lingering scent of coffee on his breath. I’m becoming more aware of his fingers around my wrists with each passing second, and how if I stick my tongue out it wouldn’t take much to reach him. But I shouldn’t do that. Why am I thinking about licking him right this second? Oh god, I’ve been silent too long.

Violet, say something.

“At least buy me dinner before you pin my arms.”

Violet, no. Not that .

“I’d make you dinner and dessert,” he’s quick to quip, keeping his hands around my wrists.

Don’t say it.

“I thought I’d be the dessert,” I smirk at him, and his grip tighten around my wrists before he lets go and backs up. I hear him mumble something, but I can’t make it out.

“You’re going to be such a distraction, aren’t you?” he asks, returning to the index cards.

“Maybe, but I’ll also be helpful.” I pause, picking up the recipe we’ve been searching for and hoping I sound normal. Meanwhile, my heart is pounding like I recently ran a 5K and my whole body feels like it’s on fire while I overthink my dessert joke. But if Noah had hated it he would have said something instead of his small jab about me being a distraction. Focusing back on the card in my hand, I hope my face isn’t giving away my racing thoughts. “For example, here’s the gingersnap one.”

His eyes light up when I pass it over to him, and I notice they’re lighter today. The green is even brighter than when I first saw him, but it must be the lights in here.

Returning my focus to our current task, I find three more of the recipes we need while he locates the last one. I’m going to need to focus on cookies and not Noah if I want to get through this day without any accidents.

“Okay so we’ve got the gingersnap, hot chocolate, peppermint, and candy cane brownie. Plus chocolate chip because you need at least one classic,” he says, switching between the cards as he lists them off. I fought for the double chocolate chip one, but he said that would be too much.

“Perfect, the chocolate chip will be great for kids who aren’t ready to step out of their comfort zone yet,” I say, stopping myself from pointing out the double chocolate one would have done the same thing.

We quickly fall into baking, me refraining from disaster and Noah directing me. I manage to keep myself from yelling “yes, Chef” every time he asks for something. I guess he’s a baker and not a chef, but I’m also doubtful he would care. I also know if I said it I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from giggling.

He teaches me as he goes, explaining the perfect way to whip the chocolate mousse for the hot chocolate cookie. Each cookie has its own special topping or secret ingredient to it that makes it unique, and the kitchen has started to smell so good that my mouth is watering. It doesn’t help my concentration that every time Noah mixes the batter or picks up anything heavier than a teaspoon, his forearms flex and reveal the perfect combination of tattoos and veins.

Working with him is helping me forget about my train-wreck of a situation. Greg hasn’t crossed my mind in a few days, and the more time I spend with Noah the more I wonder if I ever loved Greg. Maybe he was convenient for where I was in life. I never had as much fun with him in the past several years compared to these last few days with Noah. My heart never skipped a beat with Greg the way it does with Noah. Whatever is happening between us is more real than anything I ever had with Greg, and I’m starting to wonder if he can sense it too. I had the same feeling years ago, though, and he left. Which makes me think I’m making up what might between us.

“What do you think about going to the tree lighting tomorrow night?” I ask, crushing the last bit of the peppermint pieces.

He sighs before answering, and I see his shoulders drop. “Do we really have to go to the festival?”

“We talked about this,” I remind him. “You have to show your face around town. They have to see you engaging with town activities so they stop making up rumors about you. Is there something else that makes you not want to go?” I pry when he avoids eye contact with me like he did any time he had something he didn’t want to tell me.

“Ugh.” He runs his hands over his face. “This is embarrassing to admit, but I applied with the committee for a stand at the festival, and they denied me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” My heart sinks for him. I want this town to understand he’s not a bad guy. I don’t understand why they can’t find it in their hearts to give him a chance.

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault. They really don’t like me. They really can’t get over the Christmas tree incident.” He shrugs defeated. “But I’ll go, just be aware I won’t like it.”

“Then think of it like you’re going with me because I want to go,” I tell him, trying to cheer up the conversation. “I haven’t been in a few years and the tree lighting was always one of my favorite parts of the festival. Plus my family will be there, so you’ll have plenty of buffer if anyone tries to start anything or kick you out.”

“Will Iris fight Bernice for me?” he teases. He’s probably remembering the same memory of Iris picking me up from school once and yelling at someone who was making fun of my dress. She’s always quick to defend the people she likes, and I’ve had to stop her countless times from yelling at Bernice and the other town gossips when they’re being dramatic.

“You know she would,” I reassure him, knowing she cares about him because I do.