The Christmas Crush

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Icy air hit Elena’s face as she pushed open the heavy door. Good, maybe it would cool her cheeks, which were hot with embarrassment. Had everyone in the town hall seen her face go red? Seen the tears fill her eyes? Never let them see you cry, Elena , her dad always said. You can’t come back from it. Can’t gain the upper hand. Her boots crunched over road salt as she hurried down the town hall front steps, not even caring if she slipped on hidden ice.

Vosses are bosses, Elena. Dad often hadn’t had time to attend Elena’s soccer games or science fairs or ballet recitals, but on the rare occasions he had, that was his response when Elena acted disappointed, frustrated, or overwhelmed. Life was a constant competition, and he intended her to win. Sometimes his motto gave her a burst of confidence; sometimes it made her feel misunderstood.

Tonight, it reminded her she’d lost control of the situation.

Her phone buzzed with a text at the base of the stairs. Ahead lay the gazebo, eerily dark in contrast to the shops, which were colorful with holiday lights and decorations. Maybe these people were small-town weirdos, like Derick thought. Why didn’t they light the tree in the gazebo, of all things? It looked odd standing there decorated but dark.

She whipped the phone from her bag. As she swiped the screen, she realized she’d lost a glove. Her left hand felt stiff, pinpricks of cold stinging her skin. Report back with GOOD news read a new text from Derick. She fought the urge to toss the phone into a snowbank and run off into the nearby woods. Survival with only one glove and a dressy peacoat might be tough, though. More tears fell at melodramatic thoughts of freezing to death.

Under normal circumstances, Elena could stop tears on a dime. All Dad’s instructions over the years had made her a pro at outward composure, able to suppress inner turmoil at any cost. Derick ripped into her at work multiple times a week, in meetings full of Sparkle employees. Elena always remained calm.

Why were tears dripping from her eyes after a little dustup with the town baker, then? Why couldn’t she stop them? She’d been embarrassed in work situations before, countless times. No matter how well prepared she was, she messed up sometimes, or Derick ruthlessly critiqued her hard work. Usually she didn’t crumple, didn’t have a crushing in her chest.

She strode down Main, momentarily blanking on where she’d parked her car. Earlier, she’d been awestruck by the adorable town, drinking it all in like a tourist. Seeing it with her artist’s eye, as if painted in watercolors. Brick buildings of varying heights, doors painted rich reds and soft creams. Old-fashioned iron lampposts and benches complete with pretty metal swirls. Everything well cared for, well loved. She’d hardly paid attention to where she’d parked. Ah, there it was, right in front of—

No! Not that miserable cookie bakery she’d found precious an hour ago. The large front window decorated with Sweet L’s Bakery in arching gold letters, the beautiful tree inside trimmed with baking accoutrements. Okay, maybe it was still kind of precious. She leaned closer to the window to inspect the tree. One of the ornaments was a framed photo of that jerk Lawrence Higgins with his arm around a tiny old lady. His poor grandmother, she guessed. If he weren’t number one on her list of rudest people ever, she would be charmed by the way his grandma smiled up at her grandson.

Maybe she felt a shade charmed, despite his dismissive behavior. Maybe she was upset because Lawrence’s real-world response to Sparkle Cookie didn’t fit into the idealized vision of the town she held in her heart. She certainly hadn’t expected some hulking beast of a guy to imply Sparkle Cookie’s cookies were garbage in a crowded room. Or make her look like a fool for not knowing who owned competing businesses. She couldn’t believe she’d thought he was cute when he first stood up to speak at the meeting.

She’d been struck by his impressive height, his bright-blue eyes, and his cuddly sweater that whispered touch me across the meeting room. Unlike his exterior, the bakery didn’t impress her close up.

He might be good with cookies, but the storefront could use some major polish. Her tears slowed as she critiqued the many missteps he’d made marketing the bakery. In the window, old flyers from local summer events, yellowed with age, obscured part of the view inside. Made it hard to see the cookies in the case. What would entice visitors to New Hope? A clear view of the cookies from the street was free advertising.

She noticed a piece of plain copy paper taped to the inside of the glass door. Weekly specials were scrawled across it, some almost illegible. The third line had been written with such haste that she couldn’t make it out at all. Surely he didn’t really sell “squid ookies” on Tuesday. She laughed under her breath, retrieved a tissue from her bag to blot her eyes.

This place needed an overhaul. He wouldn’t have to be worried about competition if he put in a little more effort. A small, petty part of herself hoped he never figured that out.

The sound of heavy footsteps on the sidewalk pulled her attention from the window. Oh please, not him , she thought as Lawrence Higgins approached. At least he had the decency to look abashed, like a lumbering bear who’d been scolded for stealing trash. Big shoulders hunched, hands deep in his Carhartt jacket pockets. Eyes downcast.

Vosses are bosses, Elena. You can still turn this to your advantage. She scrubbed her face dry with the back of her gloved hand to hide her emotion.

“Your place is super cute,” she said in a tone that sounded smug, a little mean, even to her own ears. In the darkness he wouldn’t be able to tell she’d ever been crying. The only light came from an iron lamppost adorned with a wreath and the soft glow of the half-lit bakery. “You must have a loyal customer base. Sparkle Cookie doesn’t have that here. However, we do have a sizable marketing budget. You’d be surprised what money can buy.”

The words sounded like they came straight from her father’s mouth. Superior, meant to throw off the opponent. And it worked. Instantly. His blue eyes widened, surprise plain in them. He’d underestimated her. He’d must’ve thought he’d won at town hall when she struggled with her emotions. If he’d followed her to gloat, to scare her off her job here, he’d be disappointed.

“And our cookies may not be as folksy as yours—yours really are tasty—but we can pump out a ton of ours per day. Volume is a powerful thing.”

He narrowed his eyes at her veiled threat. Annoyance flashed hot on her skin in the cold air when he didn’t back down. Then her indignation mixed with a confusing impulse to relent when his gaze fell to the sidewalk. He’d gone from looking angry to seeming strangely hurt with such speed that it threw her. Fight me back; that I can handle. Her hard-won calm began to wane and tears threatened to rise again. What was wrong with her? Her throat spasmed against her attempt to swallow. She charged ahead to rush past her unease. She continued before he could get a word in.

“I see on your sign the bakery is closed Sundays and Mondays. And only open six hours on Wednesdays? That’s very nice. Great work/life balance. Sparkle is open seven days a week, ten hours a day. Where do people go around here for cookies after five PM ?”

“Um, I guess I never asked.” His posture stiffened and he pursed his lips. He had a nice mouth; she’d give him that. Just the right size for his face, expressive. Then he laughed, a hollow, uncertain sound. “You’ve got some confidence rolling into town thinking you can snatch my customers. Most of them have known me since the day I was born. Good luck with that plan.”

Her mind raced, searching for a blistering response to his jab, but he suddenly shook his head and threw up his hands. “Anyway, listen, I didn’t want to argue more with you. I think we both got a little carried away back there. Passions and all that. I wanted to catch up to you because you forgot your glove.”

Nothing he said could’ve surprised her more. He’d seen her fallen glove? Ran after her in the cold to return it? Sure enough, he held it out to her. Elena could escalate an argument in her sleep, but this decent gesture sent her reeling. The glove looked ridiculously small in his hand. The sight derailed her train of thought, and for once in her life she didn’t want to summon a crushing reply. Still, she couldn’t let herself soften merely because he’d shown a shred of kindness. A smile played at the corner of his lips, then faded when she didn’t return it. She managed to say, “Yes, we obviously both have strong feelings about baked goods.”

He held tightly to the glove for a second as she attempted to tug it from his grip. “Mine are probably a little stronger. This is my life’s work. You must have something you love more than anything else.”

Painting. But she said, “You’re right. Sparkle’s success is my life’s work.”

“Thrilling.” Now he was the one who sounded patronizing.

She yanked her glove harder right as he freed it. The force of her own motion made her stumble back a step. Away from him.

“Whoa, are you all right?” As he reached out a hand to steady her, she swiped her arm from his reach. For a split second she wished she could let him catch her. A foolish, fleeting desire to know what his touch felt like. She shook her head to chase out this unwelcome thought. Keeping the upper hand meant taking care of yourself, refusing help from your adversary.

“Perfectly fine.” She recalled the smartass way he’d told her to call him Mr. Higgins. Irritation prickled anew at that embarrassing memory. “Good night, Mr. Hopkins.”

She turned toward her car as he mumbled, “Higgins. It’s Higgins, Elena.”

He remembered her name? “Sorry, Larry,” she said, because even if a small part of herself wanted to give him a break for remembering her name and returning her glove, she couldn’t afford to. Not with Derick breathing down her neck. This time he didn’t correct her, and if he continued standing there while she got into her car and drove off, she didn’t look back to verify.

She had to concentrate on the drive and on how to spin this night to reassure Derick. No room in her life for anything else.