The Christmas Crush

Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Lawrence reasoned that visiting the Sparkle Cookie storefront site might provide him with inspiration. It would remind him of everything at stake and might give him ideas to outmaneuver them. The odds of Elena happening to be at the unopened storefront at the exact time he stopped by were low. After hours spent mulling over the best course to take with the candied orange ginger cookies, getting out to clear his head was the ticket.

Plus he had to think of Sugar. She didn’t want to spend all day in a stuffy bakery. The weather boasted a balmy twenty-six degrees. She’d love the chance to stretch her legs.

“Don’t give me that face,” he said to Sugar when they got out of his red truck. Sugar cast a cranky look in his direction. Dogs couldn’t glare, could they? He must be imagining it. “You’ve got on the pink sweater Nana made you, and you refused the booties. Don’t complain to me if you’re chilly. What is all that fur good for anyway? Do you know how much of it I had to shake off my own sweater before we left? You’d have me running around looking like a yeti if you had your way. Don’t deny it.”

They walked from the parking lot in the newer section of town toward the strip mall that housed Sparkle Cookie. It sat between a dry cleaner and a liquor store. The liquor store window was protected by a metal gate.

“See, I told you they’ve got nothing on our place.” Sugar trotted behind him. When they were closer, Lawrence saw the big Opening Soon sign. Another sign said Try our world-famous flavors . “Our flavors aren’t world famous.”

And they weren’t minutes from the highway. He imagined hungry road trippers taking the nearby exit and falling for Sparkle’s sparkle before they had a chance to get to the historic downtown for a real cookie.

Past the signs, he noticed the interior of the bakery was almost complete. A bakery case and an enormous Sparkle logo in lavender glitter adorned one wall. On the opposite wall, a backdrop made of the faux lavender roses made a picture-perfect spot. Over the roses hung a neon sign—it wasn’t lit, but he could still read that it said #iSparkle . “That’s how they spread like a virus, Sugar. They use these kitschy hashtags, and soon everyone is scrolling past their cookies.”

“Sparkle Cookies are on everybody’s feed,” said a familiar voice behind him. “And did you call me sugar?”

Inch by inch, Lawrence turned toward the speaker. Yep. Elena Voss. She wore a purple button-down shirt under a black peacoat. A few buttons undone at the top of the shirt, a silver heart pendant dipping low, so low he didn’t dare look. Her face twitched with a suppressed smile, eyebrow raised. Pleasure shot through him when their eyes met. Maybe, if he were honest with himself, he’d admit he felt happy to see her again.

Next to Elena stood another woman, shorter, with black hair to her collarbone and a gold nose ring. She looked at Lawrence like she was afraid of his answer.

“As a matter of fact, Elena,” he said, doing his best to sound self-assured, “I was speaking to Sugar Higgins here. Sugar, Elena Voss. Elena, Sugar.”

Elena dropped to her knees, held out her hand, and Sugar danced about, sniffing the air. Sugar must not have sensed a threat—silly dog—and she nuzzled into Elena’s palm.

“And I’m Priya,” the other woman said.

Lawrence quickly stuck out his hand to shake Priya’s, abashed he’d been too entranced by Elena to remember his manners.

“This is Lawrence Higgins,” Elena said, scratching Sugar’s back.

“The baker you keep talking about?” Priya asked.

His ears perked up at that comment. Elena had been talking to her coworker about him? She thought about him outside of work, like he thought about her?

“I don’t keep talking about him. I remember mentioning his reservations about the new site at Monday’s meeting.” She wasn’t a smooth liar—he could tell by the way she didn’t look up when she spoke, keeping her focus on Sugar. After a few more scratches, she stood. “What do you say, Mr. Higgins, should we take a look inside? Or did you want to continue to wander the streets talking to yourself?”

“I was talking to Sugar. She’s a great conversationalist.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

I’d never sleep if you were in my bed. The idea came out of nowhere, biology faster than good sense. Elena’s hands on him. His body wishing for things his mind wasn’t ready to confess it wanted. Funny how his resolve to keep things professional melted like butter in a hot pan the instant he saw Elena.

“You can only come in the customer-facing front,” Priya said, all business. “There are proprietary elements in the kitchen.”

“Priya’s right,” Elena said. “Pinkie-swear it.”

The first time they touched had been when his hand bumped into hers at the cookie exchange. An accident. This time she held out her hand, pinkie extended in offering. She wore the glove he’d returned to her the night they met. His own hand was in a mitten Nana had knitted, which he ripped off without hesitation.

Hand to hand. Pinkie to pinkie, to be fair. Still, progress. Their fingers twinned around each other, separated by that damn glove. He tightened his finger a smidge to give hers a small squeeze.

“Repeat after me,” she instructed. Priya rolled her eyes, then started texting on her phone in its Hello Kitty case to avoid watching them act like idiots. “I, Larry Hopkins.”

He tugged gently on her pinkie; she stepped a hair closer. “Not this again.”

“I, Lawrence Higgins. Wait, what’s your middle name?”

“Benjamin.”

“I, Lawrence Bartholomew Higgins—”

“I’m not saying that,” he countered. This time she squeezed his finger. In truth, he would say anything she desired, but he had to at least put up a tough front. As if she didn’t literally have him wrapped around her little finger. “I, Lawrence Benjamin Higgins, being of sound mind, unlike Elena … Hang on. What’s your middle name, Ms. Voss?”

“Rachel.”

“Unlike Elena Rachel Voss. See what I did there? You thought I was gonna give you a hard time like you gave me, but I’m a nice guy. I used your actual name.”

Pure trouble snapped in her dark eyes. An impulse struck him to put his other arm around her, pull her close, kiss that smirk away.

“Can we go inside? It’s freezing.” Priya stomped her booted foot, and Lawrence couldn’t blame her. Elena let go at once, then unlocked the door. Priya eyed Sugar. “I guess we can make an exception on the no-dogs rule, since we’re not open.”

They all stepped into the strong smell of fresh paint and sawdust. Priya made an excuse to visit the forbidden kitchen, no doubt to avoid any more pinkie swears. Meanwhile, Sugar got to work checking the perimeter, sniffing each and every corner. Now that Lawrence and Elena were alone together, the spark between them dwindled, awkwardness taking its place.

Making a slow circle, he took in the room while Elena rooted through her tote. The walls had a light-purple shimmer to them, he noticed. Gold veins twinkled in the granite countertop. Elena turned on the hashtag sign, which, sure enough, was a neon purple.

“Is it always so dazzling in here?” Lawrence asked to break the silence, blinking as his eyes began to water from all the glowing.

“It is if I have my way,” she said. She took out her phone and snapped a picture of the logo on the south wall. Elena Rachel Voss probably got her way all the time. Look how she had him doing the opposite of what he should be doing because he hoped she wanted to talk for a few more minutes. “Priya and I are here to photograph the progress for our social media. Customers love to see behind the scenes.”

“About ready to open, I’d say.”

“Yes. As planned since the business license application was in order.” She stopped taking pictures to catch his eye. “I’m sorry about that. I know I’m the villain here, but I don’t have any real control in this situation. I can’t stop us from opening in New Hope. Nothing can stop Sparkle.”

A week ago he’d believed he could stop them. Now here it was, almost ready for a line of customers out the door. No, he couldn’t stop the opening any more than she could. The only course left was to be sure to draw as many customers as he could away from Sparkle to Sweet L’s.

“Unless,” Elena said, “you were casing the place, planning to throw a brick through the window. That would delay us, at least.” Her tone was light, teasing, but her eyes were soft, sympathetic. Gorgeous dark eyes, dramatic lashes like the kind you saw in a cosmetics commercial. “I could always be extra picky about the glass to replace it. Buy you a little time.”

Would she do that? Did she feel bad about the unstoppable force of the Sparkle Cookie corporation? The possibility flickered in him.

Not the right moment to confirm it. The last thing he wanted was a repeat of their town hall argument. Too heavy, and the opposite direction he intended to head. “Nah. I’ve been waiting outside for the last two days, hoping you’d show up. Thank goodness you did, because Sugar and I were turning to ice.”

“We can’t have that.”

She took more pictures, looking over her shoulder at him between each click. That knockout smile of hers had disappeared, and her attention flew to random objects—stacked boxes, a table with chairs propped on top—anytime she caught him looking at her. He remembered her rushing from the swap after two hours of banter. He thought of his own personal promise to choose the bakery over getting to know her.

Did she think they could put the rival bakery situation aside? He mulled over her admission that she didn’t have control over the New Hope Sparkle location opening. Did separating Elena from her job mean he didn’t have to choose her or the bakery? The possibility he could end up with the best of both worlds tempted him. He could explore his increasing attraction to her. Dangerous to even hope for, but deeply desirable when she smiled at him as she had today.

Then a horrible thought occurred to him: did she have a boyfriend? A woman that pretty must have her pick. The possibility he’d mistaken her joking manner for flirting made him press his lips into a disappointed line.

Hmm. No smooth way to ask that question either. Much as he loved to slip into his shell and avoid social awkwardness, it might be better to be bold and lay his cards on the table. He could always sell the bakery, change his name, and move to Canada if he humiliated himself.

He paused.

Now. If I’m going to take this chance, it has to be now. Before I second-guess myself or blow it more out of proportion than I already have.

“Elena?”

She had her back to him and went still at the sound of her name. She didn’t face him immediately; she waited long enough for a knot of fear to form inside him. Then she turned.

Eyes dark, yet bright with expectation. “Yes?”

“I can’t make cr è me br ? l é e, but I do know a great place that can. If you’ll go with me.”