“You must have been busy, getting ready for the photoshoot,” he said quickly, feeling foolish and wanting to change the topic. “The sculpture is gorgeous. Really incredible… I can’t believe something like that was made out of chocolate.”
“Thanks,” Imogen said with a small, nervous smile. “I have been really busy. I can’t believe I pulled it off, honestly, but it’s not over yet. I need to get a few things done before the reporter gets here, actually—” She paused. “Can you excuse me? It was nice of you to come by, but she’ll be here really soon, and…”
Lincoln knew she was giving him the cue to leave. Everything about their conversation had felt different, nothing like the nostalgic camaraderie of their sleigh ride just a day ago. The laughter and easy-going feeling was gone, and now everything felt heavy and awkward.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat again. “Good luck with the shoot and… everything. I’m sure it’s going to be perfect. You’ve done a really great job. You deserve all of this. It’s… it’s going to be wonderful.”
Imogen smiled. “Thanks,” she said, and it sounded genuine. But she didn’t say anything else, and he knew he needed to go.
He gave her another smile, and then headed toward the door, stepping back out into the cold December morning. The door closing behind him felt uncomfortably final, and Lincoln stood on the sidewalk for a moment, trying to process what had just happened.
Imogen hadn’t been upset or rude. He honestly wasn’t sure she was capable of being rude to anyone. But he’d felt the distance between them, the awkwardness. And she’d wanted him to leave, he felt sure of that.
Lincoln walked slowly back to his truck, his mind spinning as he tried to figure out what had gone wrong. Had he misread the signals during their evening together? Had he been too eager about the connection he’d felt between them? Or had she justhad time to think about their conversation and decided that she should never have let it get that far?
He couldn’t think of anything he might have done that would have been so terrible that it would upset her. Maybe the way the conversation had felt had just been because of her nerves over the photoshoot and the interview.
But he couldn’t help feeling, as he got into his truck and headed toward the rink, that it was more than that.
That whatever there had been in that moment between them, he’d lost the chance to find out if it could have been more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Imogen checked her reflection in the small mirror in the bathroom for what felt like the hundredth time in the past hour, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from her blazer and making sure her lipstick hadn’t bled in the fifteen minutes since she’d last applied it. Her heart was beating so fast that she was genuinely concerned the photography crew might be able to hear it.
She knew she needed to be going over what she was going to say to the reporter when they arrived for the interview, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Lincoln’s face when he’d walked into her shop twenty minutes ago.
She’d seen the way he’d been looking at her sculpture, like it was the most incredible piece of art he’d ever seen, and it had made her heart melt. And then… the way he’d looked at her.
Like she was also the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She’d remembered what it felt like for him to look at her that way. It had felt good and confusing and terrifying all at once, and it was so much more than she could deal with when her shop was full of photographers and she was minutes away from one of the most important mornings of her entire life.
Imogen pressed her palms against her cheeks, trying to calm the flush she could feel building there. She’d handled the whole conversation terribly. She knew Lincoln probably wanted to find out why she hadn’t answered his texts or calls, and what was going on in her head after their sleigh ride. She wished she’d just been able to tell him, so that she could know one way or another what he felt too.
But in the moment, she hadn’t been able to say any of it. It had felt so much easier to just hide behind the preparations for the shoot and the interview, and it had been technically true that she still had things she needed to get ready. But she also knew he was probably wondering why she’d been so distant. It had probably just made things even more confusing for them both.
There was nothing she could do about it now, she told herself. She needed to be thinking about making a good impression for the magazine.
“Focus,” Imogen whispered to herself, straightening her shoulders and forcing her attention back to what was happening right that moment. “You can deal with Lincoln later. Right now, you need to make this interview amazing.”
She left the bathroom after one more once-over of her appearance, and walked over to check on her chocolate sculpture one more time. The piece sat on a display pedestal in the center, where the best light was coming in from the windows.
It was perfect. It showcased all of her abilities, everything she’d learned over the years and a lot of techniques she’d only heard of and had tried out just for this. It was the most ambitious thing she’d ever attempted, and she’d pulled it off exactly as she’d imagined it.
Unfortunately, it didn’t do much to take her mind off of Lincoln. All she could think about, looking at it, was how the North Pole decorations he’d gotten in for the rink had been the inspiration for it. How that afternoon when she’d played hookyfrom work to take Katie to the rink at his encouragement had been the catalyst for her finally deciding what the perfect project would be for the feature.
There was the smallest swoop in the roof, indiscernible unless someone knew where to look for it, and that immediately brought back the memory of Lincoln showing up and nearly knocking over the entire thing. She pressed her lips together, remembering how terrified she’d been that it was going to be destroyed, and how relieved she’d been that they’d managed to right it without anything having been too badly damaged.
And that was the day they’d exchanged Secret Santa gifts. It had seemed like such a coincidence at the time, but of course now she knew it hadn’t been. They’d picked out the perfect gifts for each other, and she knew that was real, but she couldn’t stop the way her stomach dropped every time she remembered that their friends had orchestrated it.
The bell above the door chimed, interrupting her brooding, and Imogen turned to see a tall, elegant woman with perfectly styled dark brown hair enter the shop. She was carrying a leather messenger bag, her heels clicking against the tile floor as she walked in.
“Imogen?” the woman asked with a warm smile. “I’m Whitney Calahan fromSweet Confectionsmagazine. Thank you so much for agreeing to feature your beautiful shop in our holiday issue.”
“Ms. Calahan!” Imogen replied, relief and anxiety together flooding through her as she realized that this was the moment she’d been preparing for all week. She hoped she didn’t look as nervous as she felt. “It’s such an honor to have you here. I’m so excited about the opportunity to talk to you about my shop.”
Whitney’s smile broadened as she looked around the shop with obvious appreciation. “I have to tell you, the space is even more charming than I expected from the photos you sent. It’sexactly what I hoped it would be and more.” She set down her bag, taking it all in for a moment longer. “I’m going to start with photos, and then we’ll talk about your shop and the inspiration for all of this. We can chat while I’m taking photos as well, if you like. Just to get comfortable.”
She and the photography crew began the work of taking photographs of the space—everything from wide shots of the shop itself to zoomed in pictures of each chocolate display, several photos of the hot chocolate counter before and after Imogen filled the mugs and topped them with whipped cream, marshmallows, and caramel, fudge, or pumpkin sauce, and pictures of the exterior as well before coming back inside. As Whitney snapped photo after photo, Imogen felt herself beginning to relax into the familiar rhythm of talking about her business and her love for creating chocolates.
