The Christmas Cookie Crush (Arcadian Falls Christmas #4)

Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Nora

I weave my way through the crowd, scanning faces and keeping one hand protectively over the lid of the box of cookies.

Before I can sort through my feelings about the fact that Austin Stanton brought me a box of cookies that he purportedly made and decorated himself—sure, he admitted to having help, but from the way he said it, it sounded like it was so he could make sure they’re perfect, and what is that even about??—I need help.

Finally, I spot her. Uncaring about my oldest brother’s surprised look when I literally step into the middle of a conversation he’s having, I slip my arm through Olivia’s. “Sorry, Ty. I just need to borrow Olivia for a sec. Thanks!”

And with that, I start tugging, uncaring about the looks she’s probably exchanging with my brother, because she’s coming with me, and that’s what matters. I steer us through the crowd and into the hallway, not releasing her arm until we’re outside my bedroom.

I open the door and set the box down on my desk, motioning for her to come all the way inside so I can shut the door.

She’s looking at me, amusement and curiosity stamped on her face. “Nora, what’s going on? I mean, I’m happy to see you too, but …” She waves a hand, indicating the party going on. “I figured we’d have time to catch up when there’s not a houseful of people.”

“Right. Yes. And we will. But I need help, and I need it from you. Not one of my siblings.” I cut my hand through the air to emphasize that last sentence. “They can’t be trusted.”

“Oh?” She crosses her arms and looks me over. “Why’s that?”

I make an incoherent noise. “Just … because! It’s hard to explain.” Reaching for the box, I flip open the lid, marveling at how good these cookies look. They’re perfect.

Picking up the one I broke a piece off of and fed to Austin—I suppress an involuntary shiver at the memory of his plush lips brushing my fingertips—I break off another piece and offer it to Olivia. “I need you to try this cookie.”

She looks from the cookie to me before taking a slow step forward and holding out her hand. I place the chunk of cookie in her palm, and she picks it up with her other hand, eyeing me warily. “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing. I think. I mean, I’m pretty sure. But that’s why I need you to taste it. To be certain.”

Her eyes widen in alarm. “That’s not at all reassuring, Nora. What do you think would be wrong with it?”

“I’m afraid he made it extra sour. It’s kind of a … joke? I guess. Of sorts. A prank, really. With sour candy. It’s a long story. He ate a piece and didn’t react, but I don’t know if he’s just really good at suppressing his reactions in an attempt to convince me it’s fine just to make it funnier when I eat them later or something. And I love these cookies. His grandpa designed them just for me. And if he’s ruined them …” My fists clench at the thought, my molars grinding together. It’s one thing to give me Warheads as a prank. It’s something entirely different to ruin my cookies.

Still looking wary, Olivia sniffs the cookie. “It smells normal.” I nod. She takes a teeny tiny bite, then her face lights up and she pops the rest into her mouth. “It’s delicious,” she says as she chews. “Not sour at all. Eat and enjoy.”

I look down at the broken cookie sitting on top, picking it up gingerly and taking a small, tentative bite. But Olivia’s right. Not that I doubted her, I just … doubted Austin so much that I couldn’t believe he wouldn’t somehow mess with these cookies.

“Is that all you needed?” Olivia asks.

Nodding, I sink to the bed, still holding half a cookie in my hand. “Yes,” I croak, my mind whirring. What does this mean? Why did he make these? What’s his endgame? “Thanks, Olivia.”

She pauses in the doorway, biting her lip as she looks at me. “Are you okay? I feel like I’m missing something here.”

Forcing a smile, I wave her off. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just … confused. But you can go back to the party. I’m sure Ty’ll barge in here in a second looking for you. Do me a favor and stave him off before he comes in with a brother lecture?”

Her lips press together as she studies me for another second, but then she nods and leaves, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

I sit in silence for a moment, trying to piece together my thoughts. The problem is, I only have questions and no answers. And I’m not sure I can get the answers, either. If I ask him directly, will he give me straight answers? And if he does, will I even believe him?

I guess that’s what it boils down to—can Austin be trusted?

Our history points to no. But that was like ten years ago. I don’t play ponies with my friends anymore, so it’s theoretically possible that Austin’s grown out of being a jerk.

Dylan’s still kind of a jerk, though, and he’s grown up too. But I suppose that only proves that some people don’t outgrow being a jerk, not that Austin is one of those people.

He did have someone give me Warheads, though.

Which he later apologized for.

And he did try to give me a pastry that one day—which I rejected—and now these cookies …

More and more it looks like I might be the jerk.

Sighing heavily, I look down at the half cookie I’m still holding and take a bite. Buttery sweetness explodes on my tongue, and I let out an involuntary moan. God, I’ve missed these cookies. Austin seems to have inherited his grandfather’s talent for baking. Or at least he’s able to follow a recipe. Because these are as delicious as his grandfather’s.

After I finish the cookie, I stand and brush off my hands, then close the box. These cookies are just for me, and aside from the bites I gave to Austin and Olivia for test purposes, I don’t plan on sharing them with anyone.

With one more deep breath, I do my best to push aside the swirling questions—most importantly, why did he make me cookies?—and head back to the party. But when I step into the hall and pull my door closed behind me, I stop short.

Austin’s standing in the opening to the hallway, his hands in his jeans pockets, his burgundy button-down open at the collar. I have to admit, he looks good like this. He’s cute in his Give and Cake apron, but he clearly put some effort into his appearance today with his sleeves cuffed just so, his shock of dark hair combed—though I think I prefer it when it’s a little more messy and casual—his face freshly shaved. Like he went home and showered before coming over.

When did he even make the cookies? Because he’s been working pretty much every day that I have, and I’ve worked nearly every day since I got home. Sure, a few were short shifts or half days, but between covering call outs and my own normal schedule, I’ve been busy.

I clear my throat, feeling uncertain, which is not a feeling I’m used to or find enjoyable. I don’t typically have difficulty talking to guys. I know how to flirt or be friendly or whatever the situation calls for.

But with Austin …

I thought I knew what the situation called for, but now I don’t think I know at all.

“Look,” he starts, holding a hand up, palm out, like he’s trying to stop me from speaking or leaving or something, “I just wanted to apologize. Obviously the things I did when we were kids had more of an impact than I realized at the time. I—” His mouth hangs open for a beat, but then he snaps it shut and shakes his head. “I was a dumb kid, I clearly hurt you, and for that, I’m sincerely sorry.” He lets out a harsh breath. “Can we …” He runs his hand through his hair, and I bite back a smile at the gesture, because now his hair doesn’t look quite so neat and tidy, and I like it a lot. “Can we start over? Pretend we didn’t know each other as kids, that we’re both just here to help our families with ChristmasFest and get to know each other as the people we are now?”

Crossing my arms, I pull my mouth to the side, my eyes narrowing as I consider his proposal. “I dunno, Austin.”

He snorts, stuffing his hand back in his pocket. “Seriously? Do you know how long I spent on those cookies?”

I shake my head, my face relaxing, though I don’t uncross my arms. Not yet. “No, actually. I don’t. A long time, I take it?”

Another snort. “That’s putting it mildly.”

“Why?” It’s the question I’ve been dying to ask since he presented me with the box. At first I thought the answer was potentially obvious—to prank me. That would make sense. But when it became clear that wasn’t happening … I just don’t know what to think. And I have to know. Why?

He shrugs. “Like I said, I want to be able to start over. But it doesn’t seem like that’s possible. So I wanted to do something to show I’m serious. When you said how much you missed those cookies, it seemed like the thing to do. Grampy can’t make them right now. And I don’t—” He clamps his mouth shut again and shakes his head. “Anyway, I thought you’d like them. I wanted to do something nice to make up for being a little shit as a kid.”

All I can do is blink at him because … I don’t know what I was expecting, but that wasn’t it. “You want to start over?”

He nods once. Firm. Emphatic. “God, yes.”

I blink at him some more. I don’t even know what to think about that. But also, he’s actually been pretty nice so far? I mean, he spent who knows how long making these cookies … And I have to admit, if I weren’t still butthurt over things that happened when we were kids, the Warheads thing would’ve been pretty funny.

Sucking in a deep breath, I nod slowly. “Okay,” I say at last. “We can start over.”

He lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing, a smile tugging at his lips. “Really? God, that’s fantastic.”

I laugh, more out of surprise than anything. “Is it? You might live to regret that.”

He chuckles too and takes a half step closer. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Aren’t you brave,” I murmur.

That provokes another chuckle, and he shakes his head. “Not particularly. Nearly every choice I’ve made has been safe. Honestly, coming here seems like the most daring thing I’ve done in a long time.”

One of my eyebrows arches up in question. “Here to Arcadian Falls?”

He shakes his head. “No, here to your house with a box full of cookies.”

My lips part, and I want to say something, but I don’t know what. How am I supposed to respond to that?

He retreats that half step, pushing his hand through his hair and giving me a disarming smile. “I mean, the way you’ve acted every other time I’ve tried to give you something, coming to your home turf with your brothers here, there’s a fair chance I could’ve gotten my balls handed back to me in a sack.”

Laughing, I shake my head. “You think Dylan’d help cut your balls off?”

He screws up his face, then gives an exaggerated shrug. “I mean, I’d hope years of friendship would mean something to him. But it’s been a long time. And if you told him I’m harassing you …” Another shrug, this one more normal. “Plus, there’s Ty. He always scared the shit out of me.”

I grin. “Trust me, his bark’s worse than his bite.”

“Good to know.” His hands go back in his pockets, and he looks at his feet like he’s nervous again for some reason. Then he clears his throat. “I know you’re busy with ChristmasFest, and I am too, but I’d love it if I could take you out sometime. Like coffee? Or dinner?”

I rock back on my heels. “You mean like a date?”

He tilts his head to the side and gives me a lopsided smile. “Yes?”

“You don’t sound so sure about that.” But I’m smiling. I can’t help it.

“Yes. A date. Sooner is better, but I can wait until after Christmas if that’s easier.”

I suck in a breath, thinking over my schedule. “I’m working most of next week. But we could do something after work? A late dinner or a drink? Something low-key is fine with me. But I’m always starving by the end of the day, so something with food is perfect.”

He grins. “Tomorrow?”

I smile too. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

“I’ll pick you up at the North Pole.”