The Clause in Christmas Page 6

  “You should have told me.” Luke still sounded a little on edge. “I would have gone with you.”

  “For my sake? Or Cassie’s?” Eliza’s dark eyes glinted mischievously, and Luke looked decidedly uncomfortable.

  Coming to his rescue, Cassie asked, “How come you and Maggie haven’t tried to buy some for the bakery?”

  Eliza shrugged, sprinkling a handful of flour on the butcher block. “We’re not really set up to serve coffee. I mean, we have the air pot, but we barely pay any attention to it.” She plopped the cookie dough onto the dusted surface, pausing in thought. “Although, if we could figure out how to use that behemoth in the basement, it may be worthwhile to invest in some quality coffee.”

  “What’s in the basement?” Cassie settled herself on the wooden stool, propping her arms on the edge of the counter, not caring that her red sweater now had white elbow patches, thanks to Eliza’s generous dose of flour.

  Luke perched on the stool next to her, grazing her thigh with his.

  At his touch, Cassie’s senses heightened to everything around her, including the faintly sweet aroma of the sugar cookie dough Eliza flattened with her rolling pin.

  “When Mom bought the building over thirty years ago, the previous owner left a bunch of stuff in the basement,” Luke explained, seemingly unaware of the effect he had on her. “One of the items was an old espresso machine.”

  Cassie straightened, immediately intrigued. “How old?”

  “Not sure,” Luke admitted. “Antique, for sure. It’s huge. Made out of hammered copper.”

  “Can I see it sometime?” Cassie tried to curb the enthusiasm from her voice but clearly failed.

  Luke chuckled. “You sure love your coffee, don’t you?”

  “Do you think you’d know how to use it?” Eliza asked.

  “Possibly. I used to be a barista, so I know my way around an espresso machine.”

  “What do you do for work now?” Luke asked.

  Cassie swallowed, tracing a line through the flour with her fingertip. “I’m in between jobs at the moment.” She chose not to mention she’d been fired from her previous job because the manager of the coffee shop didn’t like her “know-it-all” attitude. Was it her fault he didn’t know the difference between Guatemala Antigua and Fraijanes?

  “I’m sorry.” Eliza set down the rolling pin to preheat the oven. “Has it been long?”

  Long enough. Cassie shifted on the barstool, careful not to bump knees with Luke. “I’m confident I’ll get a call any day now. I have a few résumés circulating.”

  Circulating into the trash, most likely. The truth was, Cassie knew too much to be a barista since the managers felt threatened by her skill and knowledge, but she didn’t have the college degree to warrant a management position. She’d have to find something soon, though. Even if she sold her grandmother’s cottage above market value, she couldn’t live off the money forever.

  Cassie could feel Luke’s gaze on her, but she fixed her attention on the snowman she’d doodled in the flour. She couldn’t bear to see even a hint of pity in his eyes.

  “I wish we had a coffee shop in Poppy Creek,” Eliza said regretfully. “But I bet we could find you a job doing something else. What do you love besides coffee?”

  Cassie blinked, caught off guard by Eliza’s question. What else did she love? Her mother, though Cassie sometimes wished she didn’t. Of course, she knew that wasn’t what Eliza meant.

  Pressing her lips together, Cassie forced a smile. “Thanks. That’s sweet of you. But I won’t be staying in town. I’ll be heading back to San Francisco right after Christmas.”

  An unreadable glance flickered between Eliza and Luke.

  Luke cleared his throat. “Why don’t Ben and I string the lights on the tree while you ladies put the first batch of cookies in the oven?”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal.” Eliza dumped a tray of cookie cutters onto the counter, the metal cutouts of stockings and snowflakes clattering against each other.

  “We’ll call you when it’s time to add the ornaments.” Luke slid off the barstool and turned to Ben. “Hey, bud, ready to decorate the tree?”

  With a rambunctious cheer that doubled as a yes, Ben deserted the Christmas Calendar on the table and scampered into the living room, followed by Luke.

  “Here, you start cutting out the dough.” Eliza handed Cassie a cookie cutter shaped like a reindeer head before rummaging through her assortment of supplies. “There’s one more thing I need to do.”

  Cassie stole sideways glances at Eliza while she dutifully made floating head cookies.

  “Aha! Here it is.” Eliza pulled a small ziplock bag from the crate. Grabbing a dining chair, she dragged it beneath the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room.

  Cassie set down the cookie cutter, curious what would happen next.

  “While you’ve done a lovely job decorating,” Eliza said, climbing on top of the chair, “I thought there might be one small detail you’d forget.”

  Eyes wide, Cassie watched Eliza tack a sprig of mistletoe to the doorframe.

  “There! Now everything is perfect.” Eliza hopped off the chair and brushed her hands together, looking quite pleased with her little addition.

  Cassie gulped. Great. Now she had to add one more thing to her list of worries. No way could she let herself get caught underneath the mistletoe.

  Not with anyone.

  But especially not with Luke Davis.

  A smile tugged at the corners of Luke’s mouth as he watched Cassie gape at the towering fir tree draped in twinkling lights, brilliant hues of red, green, blue, and gold reflecting off the bay window and dispersing around the room like rainbow fragments.

  She held an angel ornament tentatively in her hands, her bottom lip drawn between her teeth. If the thought weren’t so far-fetched, Luke would assume she’d never decorated a tree before.

  Slipping his phone out of his back pocket, he scrolled through his holiday music playlist and the lively rendition of Brenda Lee’s “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” joined the sound of pine logs crackling in the fireplace.

  “There.” Luke leaned his phone against the nativity set on the coffee table. “Now the mood is set for you to hang the first ornament.”

  Cassie’s uncertain gaze flitted in his direction, then back to the tree. “How do I know where to put it?”

  Ben sprang from his cross-legged position on the floor, two nutcracker ornaments in hand. “Watch me! Watch me!” Without a moment’s thought, he crammed both nutcrackers on the nearest branch. They hung back-to-back, as though about to count off a duel.

  Cassie giggled. “Well, if it’s that simple…” On her tiptoes, she secured the angel to a branch directly above her. Stepping back, she placed both hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side. “Not bad.”

  “Nice job!” Luke grinned. “Only ninety-nine more ornaments to go.”

  “So, basically, we’re going to be here all night,” Cassie teased.

  Warmth spread across Luke’s chest, and he tugged at his collar. The idea wasn’t unappealing.

  “Look, Cassie.” Ben tapped her arm. “I picked out this ornament for Grandma Edith all by myself.” He dangled a pair of silver bells by a red satin cord. As he flicked his wrist, the bells chimed in unison, soft and ethereal.

  Eliza joined them, setting a plate of warm sugar cookies on the coffee table. The sweet scent of their golden, buttery crusts mingled with the sharp, tangy fragrance of evergreen. “Ben found it in our friend Penny’s antiques shop a few years ago and remembered Edith’s favorite Christmas song was ‘Silver Bells.’”

  Luke noticed a shadow cross Cassie’s features and wondered if talking about her grandmother brought her sadness. Growing up in Poppy Creek his entire life, he couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be disconnected from your roots. And your family. Changing the subject, he directed a question at Ben. “Why don’t you hang it on the tree and pick another ornament for
Cassie?”

  Ben skipped to the tree and hung the silver bells directly above the nutcrackers, apparently going for the clustered effect. Next, he handed Cassie an ornament shaped like a heart with the silhouette of a man and woman painted on the smooth porcelain.

  Cassie lightly touched the couple, appearing lost in her thoughts.

  Something in her wistful expression tugged at Luke’s heartstrings. And, feeling restless, he reached for a cookie, even though the furthest thing from his mind was food.

  “Edith got that ornament for their first anniversary,” Eliza explained, her voice filled with warmth. “She must have told me the story a thousand times. It started a tradition where each year she’d collect another ornament that represented something important. Either a milestone from that year or some new hobby or interest. She said each Christmas, unwrapping the ornaments was like unpacking a time capsule.”

  “That’s sweet,” Cassie murmured, looping the gold string around a sturdy branch. Turning to Eliza, she bit her bottom lip, as if debating her next words. “Ben referred to Edith as his grandma… There’s no relation, is there?”

  Eliza smiled from her perch on the arm of the couch. “No, that’s just something Ben does. If he feels like someone is family, then they are.”

  “So, when he calls Luke ‘Uncle Luke’ that doesn’t mean you and Luke’s brother…”

  “Me and Colt?” Eliza sputtered, nearly toppling off the couch.

  “I’m sorry!” Cassie flushed with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  Luke doubled over in laughter at the look of dismay on Eliza’s face. Then, noticing Cassie’s discomfort, he softened. “Don’t worry, Cassie. Eliza is only rattled because she had an unrequited crush on my little brother for most of her childhood.”

  “I did not!” Eliza crossed her arms in protest.

  “Sure,” Luke drawled, rolling his eyes playfully. “It was only the most obvious crush I’ve ever seen.”

  Eliza stalked over and snatched the half-eaten cookie from his hand.

  “Hey!” Luke cried, swiping for it unsuccessfully.

  Glaring, Eliza waved the confection in his face. “Fibbers don’t get cookies.”

  Luke shrugged, still grinning. “Luckily I know where to find the main supply.” He strode into the kitchen, chuckling under his breath.

  As Luke selected a new cookie from the dozen or so cooling on the rack, he wondered if he’d get a moment alone with Cassie. He’d been mulling over Jack’s words all day, growing more certain he wanted to see if their friendship could become something more. Swallowing his nerves with a bite of the sugary treat, he made a pact with himself that he’d try to steal a moment before the night ended.

  Heading back into the living room, Luke overheard Eliza ask Cassie to check on the batch of cookies in the oven. Something in Eliza’s tone sounded odd. There was an eager, almost mischievous lilt to it.

  The precise moment Luke crossed the threshold of the kitchen, Cassie collided with him in the doorway. Instinctively, he placed his hands around her waist to steady her, the same time her palms met his chest.

  “Sorry!” she gasped, then froze. Her eyes widened, darting skyward.

  That’s when Luke saw it.

  The mistletoe hanging directly above their heads.

  Chapter 8

  Cassie burrowed beneath the thick layer of quilts, unwilling to face the reality of a new day. Her cheeks still stung from the embarrassment of colliding with Luke under that exasperating sprig of mistletoe. Fortunately, they were interrupted by a glass ornament shattering across the parquet floor.

  As Cassie recalled the moment, a twinge of disappointment lurked behind her relief. But she forced the thought aside. She had no business wondering what Luke’s lips would feel like gently pressed against her own. Especially since she’d sworn off dating. Not that her subconscious cared about her ban on romance, filling her dreams with all kinds of outlandish scenarios. Who kissed in the back of a sleigh? She didn’t even think they existed anymore.

  Before her brain could come up with something even more outlandish—like making the sleigh airborne—Derek texted again, waking her in the middle of the night, prompting Cassie to shut off her phone. He’d even resorted to following up his “I miss you” message with a string of sad-face emojis. As if an emoticon could make her forget last Christmas. As if anything could make her forget.

  In desperate need of a distraction, Cassie threw back the covers, prepared to undertake whatever task the Christmas Calendar allocated for the day. Impersonating one of Santa’s jolly helpers would be preferable to agonizing over an almost-kiss. Especially since every fiber of her being insisted a kiss with Luke Davis would be earth-shattering.

  Cassie sat up in bed, disoriented by the bright light filtering through the gossamer curtains. Now that she wasn’t buried beneath several quilts, the air felt noticeably colder. Squinting as her eyes adjusted to the brilliant glow, she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and padded to the window. Thick flurries of snow danced across the frosted glass, shrouding the sky for as far as she could see.

  Cassie’s heart fluttered in her chest. Her very first snowstorm!

  Clothed in soft, gray long johns, Cassie pulled knee-high socks over her bare feet and skipped down the staircase as eager as a child on Christmas morning.

  The glittering Christmas tree greeted her as she leaped over the last step and sailed into the living room, sliding across the polished floor in her stockinged feet. The night before, she’d been so mesmerized by the tree’s beauty, she hadn’t been able to unplug it before going to bed. Now, as it sparkled in the bright, ethereal glow of the snowstorm, Cassie found herself even more entranced. Who knew something as simple as a topiary draped in lights and colorful baubles could evoke such an emotional response?

  Tearing her gaze from the dazzling tree, Cassie checked the fire, grateful for the sturdy oak log Luke had added to the coals before bidding her goodnight. A few bronze embers still smoldered in a pile of ash and cinder.

  After restocking the fire with another log, filling the cottage with the comforting, smoky scent of scorched timber, Cassie began her morning ritual—steeping a fresh pot of coffee in the French press and checking the day’s activity on the Christmas Calendar.

  December 4: Bake a Mince Pie.

  Leaning her weight against the edge of the kitchen island, Cassie groaned. Putting aside the fact that a mince pie sounded disgusting, Cassie doubted she had the necessary ingredients. Her last trip to Mac’s had produced little more than the basics, minus a can of ground coffee—bleh! Sure, her grandmother’s pantry was well stocked but hardly well enough for something as obscure as a mince pie.

  And only a fool would consider venturing outside in a snowstorm of this magnitude.

  After his third knock, panic rose in Luke’s chest. What if Cassie went out in the storm?

  Luke glanced over his shoulder. In a matter of minutes, his red pickup had become nearly invisible. He knew he should’ve gotten there sooner! But it had taken him almost an hour to dig his truck out of the snowdrift.

  Luke tried the doorknob, his pulse spiking when the handle wouldn’t turn. He hammered his fist one more time, watching the wreath quiver from the force.

  This time the door slowly creaked open.

  Cassie stared up at him, surprise sprawled across her face. “Luke?”

  Luke swooped inside, slamming the door against the freezing snow flurries. “Are you okay? I got here as soon as I could. You haven’t tried to go outside, have you?”

  Cocking her head, Cassie blinked in confusion. “Why would I go outside? It’s practically a blizzard out there.”

  Luke opened his mouth to answer but faltered as the reality of the situation settled. A huge clump of snow dislodged from his coat, plopping onto the clean hardwood floor. He must look like Frosty melting on the Fourth of July. Clearly, Cassie was smart enough to stay inside in the middle of a snowstorm, not that he could say the same fo
r himself. “I, uh, tried to call. But your phone was dead. So, I thought…” His voice trailed off as he caught Cassie trying to hide a smile.

  “You thought the naive city girl had decided to take a jaunty stroll in the storm of the century?” she teased.

  Grinning sheepishly, Luke removed his snow-spackled coat. “Okay, I admit my concerns were… a little hasty.”

  Cassie’s eyes softened. “But it was sweet of you to come to my rescue.”

  Luke’s heartbeat stilled as they stared at each other in the foyer, water droplets from the melting snow pinging against the floor. He wanted to say something, anything, to prolong the moment, but he couldn’t think past how adorable she looked with her long johns, knee-high socks, and tousled hair. But he couldn’t very well say that, could he?

  “Well, now that you’re here, you might as well get warmed up.” Cassie reached for his coat and scarf, hanging them on the vintage hall stand.

  Luke tugged off his beanie, quickly running his fingers through the wayward strands of dark hair. “I can’t remember what’s on the Christmas Calendar for today. Nothing outside, I hope.”

  Cassie wrinkled her nose. “I have to bake a mince pie. Although, it might as well be a pie of four and twenty blackbirds, considering I don’t have the ingredients for either.”

  “Wow!” Luke snorted with laughter. “Pulling out the obscure nursery rhymes. I’m impressed.”

  “As an only child, you read a lot.” Cassie flashed an endearing grin.

  It wasn’t lost on Luke that she wasn’t wearing a lick of makeup, which let her natural beauty shine. A few freckles dusted her nose and cheeks, like a sprinkling of brown sugar, and Luke had a strong urge to run his fingertips over them. He blew out a breath, banishing the impulsive idea. “You’re in luck. I happen to be a mince pie expert. I’ve helped my mother bake one every Christmas since I could hold a spoon.”

  Cassie smiled. “Your spoon-holding skills aside, how do we solve the problem of not having the right ingredients?”