The Christmas Crush

Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Elena wouldn’t stand him up or change her mind, would she? This distressing thought popped into Lawrence’s head without preamble, intrusive, elbowing its way in. His lips dropped into a frown, regret suffusing him. Regret for giving her several days between accepting his offer and making good on it. A delay gave her more opportunities to mull over the compelling reasons they didn’t make sense. The professional rivalry. The fact that she was out-of-his-league pretty.

No matter what other people said about his appearance, he knew he was the reacher in this situation. Beautiful and an accomplished woman to boot. Those paintings she made looked as good as anything he’d seen in a museum, and she had a job with a killer title—VP of marketing at a major corporation. Fancy business cards and all. Not that he’d looked at the one she’d included in the sample she gave him multiple times a day. He figured she was in her midtwenties, a few years younger than him. Sure, he owned his own business, but he didn’t exactly run the tightest ship.

He disliked working for other chefs because they expected him to do things on their schedules. Elena struck him as someone with a packed schedule that she stuck to. Probably got more done in a day than he could ever dream of. She’d be producing dazzling works of art while he played Xbox in his flannel pj bottoms, hair mussed, Sugar chewing a bone beside him.

“Lawrence?” Nana adjusted her big glasses and looked him over. “Pumpkin, you haven’t touched your cookie, and you’ve spoken all of two words since you got here. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he managed. He shifted in Nana’s fussy mauve armchair—the one all the cousins fought not to get on holidays—and took a cookie off a floral china saucer. He bit into the cookie, registering its tart yet creamy taste from a distance, his cluttered thoughts keeping him from enjoying it.

“Is lemon cheesecake too outrageous for a cookie?” Nana asked.

“Everything you make is good, Nana.” His thoughts drifted back to his last relationship and how much his laid-back attitude had infuriated her. His ex-girlfriend was a garde-manger chef at an elegant hotel restaurant. She’d had a schedule and stuck to it. No puppies hiding in her kitchen or extra time off for coworkers. Would career-driven Elena get similarly annoyed with him? Why wouldn’t his mind give him a break from these awful thoughts?

“Listen up, kid, I’m planning to take these to the Junior Women’s League luncheon tomorrow; you have to be honest with me.”

Nana’s direct tone shook him out of his fog. He took another bite, rolled it around his tongue. “Cut back on the lemon.”

“I knew it.” Nana snapped her fingers, scratched out a line on the recipe card lying on the mahogany tilt-top tea table. “No zest. A touch of juice will be enough.”

Nana’s recliner whirred as the motor inside raised the footrest, leaned the chair back. With an oof and a quiet complaint about old bones, Nana settled into the worn fabric, an eye-popping paisley velour. He chewed the inside of his cheek while Nana took her embroidery hoop off her lap and started embroidering a flower onto a tea towel.

He decided he would do his best to impress Elena with his date-planning skills, start off on the right foot. No trying to play it cool or casual. But maybe it was too late to start off on the right foot, considering he’d made her cry within minutes of meeting her. Okay, get on the right foot, make sure she forgot all about their unlucky beginning. Make sure he got the fun, flirty Elena, not the serious, business-focused Elena.

He planned to take her to Francesco’s for dinner and dessert, but that was pretty standard as far as first dates went. True to his word, Francesco’s did have amazing cr è me br ? l é e on the menu, and the candles in empty bottles of Chianti were romantic. Would it be exciting enough? Why couldn’t he come up with something more original? A creative woman like Elena would have high expectations; he needed to rise to her level.

“If you don’t exhale soon, pumpkin, you’re going to pass out, and I can’t lift a big guy like you off the floor without upsetting my knees.” Nana didn’t look up. She sewed away, then said in a casual voice, “Are we going to talk about what’s bothering you, Lawrence?”

How to put his myriad fears into words? “Am I a hot mess, Nana?”

Nana paused midstitch. “A what, dear?”

“A hot mess. Like, do I seem like I don’t have my sh …” He caught himself in time, remembered he was talking to Nana, not Trey. “Does it seem like I don’t have my life together?”

“You own a marvelous bakery, and you run it almost single-handedly.”

“But you had to give me the investment money, and I haven’t been able to pay you back. It’s been two years.”

“I don’t think that’s unusual. Businesses take time to be profitable. Besides, I told you, that money was a gift.”

“I know, Nana.” No matter what Nana said, he intended to give her the money back. Not because she needed it but to show her he’d made good. To show himself he could do it on his own.

“Let’s not forget, I had to give Charlie a gift too, and we all know that divorce was his own fault.” Nana loved all of her grandkids, but she also loved dropping nuggets of gossip about them to other family members. First, he’d heard that his cousin Charlie was to blame for the end of the marriage. Juicy. Nana had a trove of secrets, he was sure. He wondered if she had any dirt on Lonnie he could use to torment his sister. He did owe Lonnie one, though, since she’d introduced him to Gilmore Girls . “Do you need more money? Let me get my checkbook.”

“What? No. Absolutely not.” He didn’t need money. True, some months he couldn’t afford to pay himself, and the rent increase loomed like a knife-wielding, deranged boogeyman. Still, he’d sell a kidney before he took more of Nana’s money. She was comfortable living off her teacher’s pension, but expenses added up. “When I got here, I noticed those boards in your front steps are getting pretty rotten, Nana. You need to replace them. Use your money for repairs.”

Nana’s house, right near the heart of town, was a beauty, but it was an old beauty, built in 1923. All the charming elements, like wainscoting, solid wood doors, and a spacious porch, outweighed the fact that the house needed near constant renovations to meet modern code standards. Lawrence wished he had the time to repair the steps himself. He made a mental note to tell his dad to come take a look at them ASAP.

“Never mind about that. I know which spots to avoid. Anyway, I think a few hundred dollars to support my favorite local business would be all right.” Nana pressed the button, and the recliner began to return to its upright position.

“Don’t you dare, Nana. I will rip up that check.”

“You wouldn’t. My checks have kittens printed on them. Innocent kittens.”

“I didn’t say it would be easy, but you’d give me no choice.”

“Oh, you’re no fun. I’m going to waste it all on bingo, then.”

That got a laugh out of him. Sugar wagged her tail from her spot by the fire that he’d built in Nana’s fireplace, figuring they must be happy about something significant. “I worry I don’t have much to offer,” he admitted.

“Who are you worrying about offering to, young man?” Nana said, peering over the top of her glasses. Shrewd, Nana, very shrewd. He hadn’t intended to hint at feeling inadequate socially, just professionally.

“No one. I … I don’t know. Someday in the future, I might want to impress someone.”

“If you attempt to impress this nonexistent person anywhere within the borders of New Hope, I will hear about it before you try to kiss her good night, so fess up!” Nana pointed the needle with a long trail of red thread in his direction.

“I cannot believe you think I would give up a kiss on the first date.” He held his fingers to his throat in a mock pearl-clutching gesture. “I have my standards.”

“Back in my day we didn’t consider it a successful date if there was no smooching.”

“Nana Banana, you shock me.”

“Please. With that attitude, you’ll be lucky to get a second date.” Nana tossed a bobbin of thread at him; he ducked, laughing again. Sugar’s tail beat against the stone hearth. “In all seriousness, you have seemed anxious about making a good impression lately. All those questions you had about conversational skills before the cookie swap. Was that because of her?”

“I didn’t know Elena Voss would be at the swap. That was because I spend too much time in my comfort zone here in New Hope.”

“So, her name is Elena Voss? I will use my Google skills to look her up. Is she pretty? What am I saying? Of course she is. Why would my handsome grandson have a date with some ugly stepsister?”

“Nana, I taught you those Google skills, and now you’re going to use them against me?”

“What I do with the knowledge you impart is my own business.” Nana separated a few stands of gold thread from the floss and threaded the needle.

When she finished, he said, “If you Google her, you’ll probably find out she works for Sparkle Cookie.”

“That dreadful chain that wants to steal your customers? Oh dear, Lawrence. How star-crossed.” Nana clucked.

“Do you think she only agreed to the date because she wants to weaken me so she can ruin Sweet L’s from the inside?” A new fear he hadn’t come up with before. His stomach twisted; his breath caught again. What if Elena didn’t see their upcoming date as anything but an opportunity to get a leg up on the competition?

“Do you really think that’s her intention?”

He ran his fingers over his jaw. Was that what he thought? Deep inside, in the place far away from all his eccentric worries, he trusted her. At least enough to risk getting to know her better. “I’m not sure, Nana. I think she’s legit. Legitimate, I mean.”

“Then trust that instinct, sweetie. Take her at face value unless she gives you a reason not to. I think any young lady would be excited to spend an evening with you, for you. You have a lot to offer.”

“Do I?” He didn’t mean to be self-pitying, but he did wonder what would attract Elena to him. Was she like all the people who only saw him as a buff ideal, not a human? Maybe he should be content his height and muscles had piqued her interest and not expect anything deeper.

“I don’t know too many other grandsons in their twenties who make time to visit their grandmas.” Nana gave him her best, sweetest smile, which warmed him through. Made him feel more confident, more sure of himself.

“That’s easy, Nana. I love you.”

“I love you too, pumpkin.” Nana set down the embroidery hoop, beckoned Sugar over for a pat.

“And I love spending time with you. You’re awesome.”

“Now that is one hundred percent true. Some grandmas complain about bunions and medications. I like more interesting topics. Did you know Gladys Martin got pulled over on Spring Street for going fifty-five in a twenty-five?”

Lawrence rubbed his palms together, eager to hear all the local dirt straight from Nana, the best of all sources. If Nana said Elena was interested in him for himself, it must be true. He must be worth it. He couldn’t allow his social anxiety to get the best of him.

Nana gave him a break from ruminating as she spilled about Gladys Martin’s wayward behavior ever since the octogenarian had purchased an all-wheel-drive SUV. After, Lawrence went to the kitchen to make them tea. While he waited for the kettle to boil, he looked out the window with its white lace curtains, mulled over Nana’s points. He also considered his own tendency to let his shyness come across as aloof, uninterested. A great way to protect himself from disappointment, to put the ball in the other person’s court.

His gut told him he should be willing to take a small risk for Elena, to show her outright how much she intrigued him. Before he could talk himself out of it, he sent her a text. Not to give her the details of the date—he’d already done that—but simply to say Looking forward to seeing you .