The Christmas Crush

Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

There was no better way to start the day, in Lawrence’s opinion, than waking up next to Elena. By the time the sun rose on his fifth morning beside her, he wondered how he’d ever faced the daily grind without her. Today he got to keep her, since it was Saturday. Nothing to force them apart. She didn’t have to rush back to the city for work, and he hadn’t needed to get up extra early to leave her place in time to open the bakery.

The weekends—especially right before the holidays—were hectic at Sweet L’s, which meant he still had to go in. But she’d be coming with him to the bakery. Between his usual duties, they planned to practice the cookies for the magazine contest, which was about a week away. Her willingness to commit a Saturday to perfecting the recipe more than repaid him for supporting her upcoming opening. Even Trey had made a point of saying how wrong he’d been about her motives when he heard all she was doing for Sweet L’s. In return, Lawrence was telling every New Hope resident who would listen to patronize Sparkle’s grand opening on Christmas Eve.

“Hey, sweetie,” he said, gently shaking her shoulder. Such a waste to wake his beautiful woman before sunrise to put her to work, but that was the baker’s life. She grumbled something incomprehensible, flung her arm over him. Warm and cuddly, she burrowed into him. Her hair smelled of last night’s firewood, from the evening they’d passed in his sparse little living room watching movies with the fireplace going. The way she’d danced around the room, insisted on making him hot cocoa, and told him no one ever wanted to watch holiday movies with her kind of broke his heart. Made him want to watch them with her year after year to make up for it.

She snaked one of her long legs around his, smooth and strong.

Focus, focus. You have a lot to do. He regretted the fact that he had to click on the bedside lamp, felt an almost physical pain when he made himself do it against every instinct. Her face scrunched as she closed her eyes tighter against the light. Fighting every natural instinct in his body, he sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed. Against her mumbled protests he pulled his navy-blue comforter off her. No one could dare doubt his devotion to making Sweet L’s a success. Anyone who saw him now would know he had super strength. After all, she was wearing his faded high school senior T-shirt and nothing else.

“Forget it, let the place go bankrupt,” he said, reaching for her. She opened one eye and swatted him away.

“Don’t you start with me. We’re going to bake.” She dragged herself into a sitting position, hair a bit wild.

“Wanna get in the shower with me?” he asked. He took her hand, nibbled her wrist.

“No way, chef. I’m not having everyone in New Hope crying because their precious bakery didn’t open on my account.”

He groaned, stood up. “Why do you have to be responsible?”

“Why do you have to make me want the best for you?” she asked, and then scampered away before he could catch her. A second later the balled-up T-shirt came flying from the adjoining bathroom. He lurched for the door, but she clicked the lock in the nick of time, laughing as he moaned her name.

“Coffee!” she demanded. He heard the ancient pipes whine and the water splutter.

“Stupid old house with its solid wood doors,” he shouted in to her.

“If you can break it open, chef …” She didn’t finish the sentence, making his imagination pop off. Oh, she was a savage one. He considered the likelihood of a shoulder injury if he threw himself against the door before admitting defeat. Looked like he’d be taking an ice-cold solo shower in a few minutes.

Half an hour later, when they walked into the bakery kitchen, he saw with relief that Carm had preheated the ovens. His fingernails were still blue from that shower. Add to that the bitter predawn cold, and he’d been able to get himself in the right headspace for a busy shift.

“Hi, mija,” Carm said to Elena. His assistant had more than warmed up to Elena as they got to know each other. Some days he thought Carm might prefer Elena to him. “Where’s my Sugar?”

“Can you believe that baby would not get in the truck this morning? She stood at the back door looking at me like I was crazy. I’m worried I might have spoiled her.”

“You think?” Carm asked with a wink. “Do you want some coffee, Elena? It just finished brewing.”

“Yes, please,” Elena said, following Carm.

“Elena Rachel Voss, you did not drink that pot of coffee I gave you already?” Lawrence said in disbelief. Elena gave him a sheepish grin. “You’re worse than Lorelai and Rory put together.”

“Guilty as charged,” she said, though she didn’t seem remorseful that she’d managed to outdrink the two most notorious caffeine addicts in television history. With a wild gleam in her eye, she held up her enormous travel mug for Carm to fill.

“How do you carry that thing around? It must be a gallon of liquid.” He winked when Elena flexed her biceps in response. “Cute. Well, since you’re so buff, you can start rolling out the sugar cookie dough. I have to make four hundred stars and stockings today.”

While Carm got Elena situated at the workbench, Lawrence riffled through a bin filled with cookie cutters and stamps. He located Nana’s candy cane stamp and another of a snowflake. In addition to the stars and stockings he would decorate with icing, he wanted to make cookies with embossed designs. He’d use a plain round cutter, chill the dough again, and then press in the intricate designs right before baking. These cookies required expert judgment on baking time—a minute too long and the delicate details would overbrown. It had taken him many holiday seasons to get it right. Sugar used to help him eat the rejects. Yes, perhaps he had spoiled her.

A sturdy knock came at the back door. They weren’t expecting any deliveries on a Saturday. It better not be a pushy customer who thought they could bully him into picking up their order early. It happened sometimes.

“Nana?” he said, astonished to see her standing in the gray morning light.

“I have it on good authority there is a very special baker in there working on a very special recipe today.” Nana held her crocheted purse in both hands, a matching hat pulled low to the top of her glasses. “I intend to get to meet both.”

“Carmen Garcia, that chatterbox,” Lawrence said, stepping back to let Nana in. Nana went straight to the office, jettisoned her coat, hat, and mittens, then powdered her nose before she let Lawrence lead her to the kitchen.

Elena’s unbothered expression indicated she’d been expecting this visit. The three of them conspiring behind his back. “Nana, this is Elena Voss, who doesn’t seem surprised at all to meet you.”

“I told Carm I didn’t want to ambush the poor thing.” Carm and Nana gave each other a kiss on the cheeks.

“No one worried about ambushing me,” Lawrence muttered.

“You’d have worked yourself into a tizzy if you had advance notice,” Nana said, waving him off.

Fair; he’d last introduced a woman to his family over two years ago. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep thinking about all the ways Elena and Nana might not hit it off.

Elena rounded the workbench and hugged Nana. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Higgins.”

The elegant demeanor he saw less of in Elena these days was out in full force now. Man, she could make a graceful impression when she put her mind to it. He noticed her composure didn’t strike him as cold anymore, merely respectful.

“Aren’t you the prettiest thing,” Nana said, tipping her head back to get a better view of statuesque Elena. “It makes sense. My Lawrence has always been the cutest boy in New Hope.”

“Nana, I’m twenty-eight years old, and it’s a small town. I don’t know that it’s much of an accomplishment.”

“Excuse me, the cutest man in all of Pennsylvania,” Nana said, correcting herself.

“I’ve been lucky enough to travel, and I might go so far as to say he’s the best I’ve ever seen anywhere,” Elena said, somehow making it both better and worse. He would’ve been right to get himself all worked up about this encounter if he’d known about it. Embarrassment flamed in his face, and an introvert urge rose in him to hide in his office until they changed the subject.

“Oh, I know you don’t like when we talk about you, pumpkin.” Nana patted his hand, and Elena smirked at the nickname. The morning was shaping up to be one of extreme temperatures, because now he felt too hot. “Why don’t you let me get a look at this recipe?”

Carm took over rolling the sugar cookie dough, allowing him to gather ingredients while Elena showed Nana a typed copy of the recipe. He’d lost his handwritten one, maybe forgotten it at Elena’s, but luckily, he’d remembered the measurements.

“And here he is with our mise en place ,” Elena said, not only using the culinary-school-approved terminology for premeasured ingredients but saying it with a precise Parisian accent. She could’ve conversed with Lawrence’s French-born decorative pastry instructor without missing a beat.

“She speaks French?” Nana asked, taking a butter block from Lawrence’s hand. “I know he’s a looker, darling, but you are quite the dish yourself. I might be tempted to say he did well for himself.”

“I sure did,” he said, putting an arm around Elena’s waist, keeping a polite distance so he didn’t shock Nana.

“I don’t know about that,” Elena said with a self-deprecating laugh. He couldn’t be this fortunate; he couldn’t have really scored a knockout who thought he was the prize. “Do you know he watched a Christmas movie from 1945 with me yesterday?”

“Which one?” Nana asked.

“ Christmas in Connecticut .”

The black-and-white movie had been pretty funny even though it was as old as Nana.

“A classic,” Nana exclaimed. She and Elena began chatting about the plot points, laughing about a baby the heroine had to borrow so she could impress her boss and her love interest with her maternal skills. Lawrence’s discomfort ebbed as he listened to Nana and Elena move on to debating the best song in White Christmas .

“Hold up there, young man,” Nana said when he went to grate a ginger root for the dough. “You’re not going to like this, but I firmly believe you should use ground dried ginger in this recipe. No, no, don’t give me your speech about fresh versus dried. You want a good balance with the espresso. You know they’ll compete if you use the fresh. It just so happens I brought some in my bag.”

Lawrence opened his mouth to protest, then paused. Nana had a point. Moreover, she’d never steered him wrong before. Nana had impeccable taste.

“Elena, dear, would you get the crocheted bag I left on his desk?”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Higgins.”

They watched Elena walk away.

“Pumpkin, she is a keeper,” Nana said quietly as Elena disappeared into the office.

“Right as always, Nana. On both counts.” Seeing Elena with Nana confirmed Lawrence’s growing belief that Elena belonged here, with him. The possibility that she would quit Sparkle made his hope shine starbright. Their relationship could not only work; it could last. Without Sparkle between them, it could even be easy.