“No, really, he’s a sweetheart. Most of the time he’s quiet as a church mouse, but when the holidays roll around he really leans into his title as the gingerbread king, you know? It’s the high point of his year.”
“Are his designs really that good?” I asked, curious.
“Oh, yes,” Sherri said, nodding vigorously. “Last year he did that tower from that movie, you know, the one with Bruce Willis?”
“Nakatomi Plaza,” I said faintly.
“That’s it! He even had a little helicopter!” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s not what I’d call a Christmas movie.”
Welp. It looked like I was coming up with a new plan for my competition entry. Still, I was impressed that Cameron had the skill to execute that level of build. Maybe he’d give me a run for my money after all.
“You know,” Sherri said, a gleam in her eye, “I’m not saying my pot holders are lucky, but Cameron’s bought a new set every year that he’s won the contest.”
I bought two pot holders and a set of dish towels, just in case she was right. After I left Sherri’s stall, I spent some time browsing the tables, stopping to make small talk with the few people I knew as I looked at all the various crafts on sale. I had to hide my laughter when I saw that there really were cookie plates made from hubcaps for sale, as well as some eye-wateringly ugly ceramics, and enough knitted goods to build an entire sheep out of. I bought myself a pure wool handmade scarf and beanie, and when I slipped them on I could feel the difference immediately, so I got the matching gloves as well. It was warm enough in the hall, but I had no doubt I’d need them once I got outside.
I got myself a hot chocolate and a package of maple and walnut cookies—purely for professional reasons and not because I had a sweet tooth the size of Texas—and then, loaded up with my purchases, I made my way back to where I’d parked, sipping my hot chocolate as I walked. It had started snowing more heavily, and snowflakes rested on my clothing and my cheeks. By the time I reached my car, I looked like I’d been dusted with powdered sugar.
As I drove slowly home, watching out for meandering pedestrians, I thought about my evening. I’d gone to the diner on a whim, but I was glad that I had. I’d had a good time apart from my argument with Cameron, and I was willing to admit that I was at least partly responsible for that.
Yeah, his reaction to my question had been over the top, but now that I thought about it, it tracked with what Sherri had said and what I’d seen of him—Cameron was shy, kind of awkward, and kept mostly to himself. So of course me inviting myself to sit at his table for dinner and asking about his plans for the contest would make him suspicious, even though I’d been flirting with him every chance I got.
Wait.
Cameron didknowI’d been flirting, right?
I parked in front of my apartment and sat there, unmoving as it hit me. The way he’d reacted when I’d teased him about being a lumberjack, it had seemed like he thought I was joking. Which to be clear, I had been, but it had been in a laughing-with-you kind of way, not a laughing-at-you way, and there was a big difference.
Surely he knew that.
Shit. Was it possible that Cameron thought I’d been making fun of him this whole time?
Maybe Ihadn’tmade it all that clear, but I was definitely attracted to him. With his slim frame and dark, scruffy hair, I thought he was cute as hell, and I wanted to kiss him until the slightly worried expression he always wore melted away. And more than that, he was good company. He was obviously smart, and he was fun to talk to—when I wasn’t accidentally pissing him off, that was.
But it seemed like at least until after the competition, my chances of kissing Cameron were about as good as the chances of a Hallmark heroine going back to her big city job and deciding she preferred the single life.
But maybe after the contest was over, I could try again.
Thinking about the competition reminded me that now I had to think up a new design for my entry. Which sucked, but I wasn’t worried. I was a Kardashian-adjacent professional. I wasmore than capable of coming up with something that would impress both the judges and Cameron—unless some unforeseen disaster struck.
And in a town as peaceful as Sugar Hollow, what were the chances of that?
Chapter 5
CAMERON
This was adisaster.
I groaned as the walls of the gingerbread castle I was constructing slowly sank inward, causing the roof panel to slide off and hit the cake board and crack up the center as it landed, leaving me with a mess of fondant and gingerbread fragments.
I sighed and shoved the whole thing to one side. I should have stuck to making cookies for the bake sale, but after having dinner last night with Finn, I’d come home and checked out his Insta page in more detail, and as much as it killed me to admit it, I was going to have to bring my A game if I wanted to keep my crown. People were counting on me.
And it wasn’t just local pride. Once word had spread around town that Finn had been a professional baker, the odds against me had jumped significantly, so of course, in a weird show of loyalty, everyone was still betting on me to win—which I was pretty sure skewed the odds in the other direction. But I didn’t really care about the betting pool.
Now I just wanted to win for the sake of winning.
Which, given that my castle resembled a haunted ruin more than anything, was about as likely as me finding a boyfriend.
I sighed and put down my piping bag. Maybe I’d make more cookies after all. The bake sale started on Saturday at noon and my dining table was already buried under stacks of festively wrapped cellophane packages of shortbread, gingerbread, brownies, and maple cookies. But I knew from experience that there was no such thing as too many baked goods. Last year my cookies had all sold within a couple of hours.
