The Christmas Cookie Crush (Arcadian Falls Christmas #4)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Austin

The pile of candy waiting in my room makes me feel guilty when I get home. She was really mad about me having someone deliver a few Warheads. Yeah, okay, I figured it’d get some kind of reaction, but the sheer fury emanating from her caught me off guard.

A smirk tugs at my lips as I reach for my sketchbook, capturing that expression on a fresh page before grabbing a pair of blue and green flannel PJ pants and a shirt and heading to the bathroom for a shower. It was kinda funny seeing her that pissed off, though. I could practically see the smoke coming out of her ears.

I strip down while I let the water run until the mirror starts fogging up, then step into the shower. The scene with Nora plays in my head on repeat as I wash my hair and soap up my body. The way her crossed arms plumped up her tits. She’s slender, and they fit her frame perfectly. A nice handful, not too big. I bet she wears bralettes. Especially when she’s relaxing.

Where does she live these days? Is she in Arcadian Falls full time?

I do the math in my head. She’d probably be at least a junior in college now, assuming she went to college and didn’t graduate early. Or take a year off. If her life is going on the usual timeline, she’d be a senior, because I graduated nearly two years ago now. God, time flies.

And if she is in Arcadian Falls full time …

My hand strays down to my lengthening cock, and I give an experimental tug, images of Nora flashing through my mind.

But what am I even thinking? It’s not like it matters where she’s living. Whether she’s living here or only home for Christmas break, the end result remains the same—she hates me for being a dumb kid when I was a dumb kid, and that’s unlikely to change. I torpedoed any chance of that with today’s little prank.

Disgusted with myself, I finish my shower, my dick un-wanked, despite the fact that’s the only form of sex I can possibly engage in right now. Given that Nora’s pretty much my only age-appropriate option in Arcadian Falls, my balls are likely to turn blue and shrivel up like raisins before I have sex with anything other than my hand.

I dry myself quickly and efficiently, dressing and heading to the kitchen to find out what leftovers Nana left for me. But no matter what I do, I can’t shake the feeling I royally fucked up today by pulling that stunt with Nora.

It’s a good thing I’ve decided to leave Nora alone entirely because the weekend is so busy, there wouldn’t have been a chance to interact with her anyway. I catch a couple glimpses of her moving through the ChristmasFest space, but that’s it. And when I do, I make sure to duck my head and busy myself with something—anything—else. Which isn’t difficult since there’s usually a line at least five deep at the Give and Cake stand. We sell out of nearly everything daily, which is good for business, but also results in crankier than normal customers by the end of the day.

I do my best to smile and apologize, assuring them we’re likely to have whatever they’re looking for in the morning. But of course, they never want to come back then.

I do take several custom orders as well, sending a text over to Sheila, the head baker at the main shop, to let her know each time I add a custom to the online system. But even the space for those is rapidly dwindling.

Christmas time is busy in Arcadian Falls. I never realized exactly how busy, though. Oh my god. I don’t know how Grampy does this every year. The man must have superhero levels of strength and stamina.

Too bad he doesn’t have superhero powers of regeneration. I think we’d all be happier if he did.

Apparently, he’s been overdoing it, and now his hip is inflamed. He has to rest for a week, and he is deeply unhappy about that. Nana and I aren’t any happier, because grumpy Grampy is no fun to be around.

I suppose that’s one upside to working all the time. I’m not home enough to deal with his moods directly. But Nana tends to fill me in on a lot of what goes on when I get home. She seems to need to vent, and I think she chooses to do it at me because I’m living with them, so I know more of the daily ins and outs than everyone else. I’ve heard her on the phone with Mom and Aunt Stacey, but she glosses over everything, downplaying Grampy’s mood and how upset he is about having to rest. I know Mom doesn’t really buy what Nana’s selling, because she called me as soon as she got off the phone with Nana to get the real story.

Mom’s worried, despite my best attempts to assure her that everything’s fine, that I’ve got it under control.

“But what about after ChristmasFest?” she asked last night when we were on the phone. “You said you’d help for that. But from what you’re saying, your grampy isn’t going to be ready to go back to work in just a few weeks. Are you willing to stay longer to help out?”

I swallow hard as that question replays in my mind. Am I?

I waffled, not giving Mom a definitive answer last night. Part of me wants to say no. As much as I’ve always loved Arcadian Falls, I’ve never longed to move back here. Not since I was a kid, anyway. I always envisioned my life somewhere else.

But where? I haven’t had any luck finding a job I actually care about. Would staying in Arcadian Falls really be so bad? Vague thoughts of designing cookies and cakes float through my head. The creativity of that appeals to me, plus my degree in business would be useful for running the shop.

What if Grampy never recovers enough to go back to working full time?

That question makes my throat close up, guilt washing over me even as I smile and make chit-chat with customers.

It’s a valid question, though, that needs to be thought about. What if Grampy can’t go back to work? Or can’t work as much as he always has?

Even if he does, how long can that last anyway?

It’s clear to me that he’s aging. It has to be clear to him and Nana too, otherwise why would he be so cranky all the time? And Nana keeps trying to sweep it under the rug like it’s no big deal, but I think she’s just trying to keep him from spiraling. More than he already is.

I wonder if they’d both feel better if they knew I’d stay permanently. What if I did take over the business?

Not right away, of course. Grampy’s not ready to quit yet. Even if he never returns to his previous strength, I can’t see him stopping entirely.

But if he knows he’s passing it down to me …

Nora’s appearance at the head of the line pulls me out of my thoughts. She’s scowling like she usually does when I’m around, her shoulders back, chin up in a posture that looks defiant, though who or what she’s defying, I can’t say.

“Sugar cookies,” she says, apropos of nothing.

“You want a sugar cookie?” I ask.

Her nostrils flare. “Yes. But your grandfather always made a special batch for me. An elf with brown hair instead of blond. Like me.” She gestures around her head and face. When I don’t respond, she huffs out a sigh. “Look. I get you aren’t going to go out of your way to do something nice for me, but could you at least tell your grandpa I miss his cookies? And that I hope he gets better soon. Here.” She lays an envelope on the counter. “Give this to him? And your grandma, too, of course. It’s for them.” I glance down and see Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpatrick written in loopy script on the envelope.

When I look up again, Nora’s already walking away.