The cat stilled as if she knew we were talking about her. She turned her nose in the air, then jumped across to the overstuffed armchair and settled in to sleep, her back toward us like we were unworthy of her attention. Cameron stood and wandered over to the window, stretching his arms over his head as he took in the view, and I took the opportunity to ogle his butt from my seat on the couch.
What? There was nothing wrong with both of us appreciating the view.
He turned just in time to catch me checking him out and I thought he might be offended, but instead the corners of his mouth curled up in a smile. “Did you want more… coffee?”
I wanted more something, but I’d settle for coffee.
“Yeah,” I said and followed him into the kitchen.
“There are more cookies in the pantry,” he said, nodding in the direction of a closed door just off the kitchen while he washed our mugs from earlier. I wondered if he only had two.
I opened the door to his walk-in pantry and peeked inside. I was frankly jealous—my apartment didn’t have a walk-in—but mainly I was curious about what he kept in there. I stopped short when I saw a half-assembled gingerbread castle that had been shoved toward the back of a shelf. I slid the cake board forward and leaned in for a closer look. The walls seemed sturdy enough at first glance, but it soon became clear that one of them had caved in and the roof had been overloaded with fondant, causing it to collapse. There was a single lone turret sticking out of the top at an angle that would have made that tower in Pisa proud.But even with all that going on, I could see that with some structural modifications it was nothing that couldn’t be fixed.
“Hey, did you want—oh.” I whirled at the sound of Cameron’s voice and found him staring at the half-built castle with an unhappy frown. “Don’t look at that. It’s a total disaster and I don’t know how to fix it.”
I bit my lip. I should have been happy that his build was a mess. Objectively, it meant I had a better chance of winning. But the competition had never really been that important to me—not more important than getting to know Cameron—and he looked so dejected I found myself saying, “I do. I’ll help, if you want.”
Something like hope lit up Cameron’s features, but then he narrowed his eyes. “Why would you help? We’re rivals.”
“Why not?” I stepped out of the pantry, still holding the house. “I mean, we’re snowed in. What else are we going to do?”
Cameron’s gaze flicked from the half-collapsed structure to my face and back again. “You should know that my builds are normally better than this.”
“I’d believe it. I heard you made a Nakatomi Plaza last year. Which is why I had to plan something completely different this year.”
Cameron paused halfway through grabbing the container of cookies from the walk-in and turned to face me, eyes wide. “Really?”
“Really. Sherri told me about it, and I might have looked the last four winning entries up online to see what I was up against. You really are good at this.”
Cameron ducked his head, but not before I saw his tiny, pleased smile. “Thanks.” And then he lifted his head, eyes bright, and said, “That means a lot coming from a Kardashian-adjacent baker.”
Wait. Was Cameron teasingmefor a change? Because I was here for it.
I grinned. “For the record, that client was an absolute nightmare, and I would sooner shit in my hands and clap than deal with her again.”
I expected Cameron to laugh, but instead he tilted his head and gave me a long look. “Is that why you’re a lumberjack now? Because of shitty clients?”
I set the cake board on the kitchen island and leaned on the counter while I thought about how to reply. I could tell Cameron was genuinely curious, and since I was the one who’d brought it up, it seemed only fair to answer. “Not the clients,” I said slowly. “Not exactly. Although I did get to deal with some real assholes.”
“So what, you just decided you needed a change? That can happen sometimes,” Cameron said. I got the feeling he knew that wasn’t the reason, but he was giving me an easy out if I wanted it. It was unexpectedly thoughtful. He set the container of cookies in front of me. Gingerbread men. Of course.
I took a deep breath and said, “The bakery got new owners, and you know how it is.” At Cameron’s blank expression I added, “Tale as old as time. Here comes the new boss, ten times worse than the old boss. They wanted to tap into the celebrity market but they also didn’t want to hire more staff, so they expected me to do it all. It was a combination of too much pressure and not enough hours in the day, and I started to dread going to work. I had kind of… a meltdown, I guess. So I quit.”
His gaze softened. “That must have sucked, and I’m sorry it happened to you. But I guess it explains the lumberjacking?”
“Yeah,” I said, absently picking up one of the gingerbread men. “I was well and truly burnt out. So I took some time off. I came to Sugar Hollow to see the fall leaves, and it was love at first sight. And when I saw a job posting for the sawmill, it seemed like fate. So here I am,” I said, adding jazz hands. “Ta-da!”
“Well, at least you’re baking again now,” Cameron said, giving me a tentative smile.
“Yep. I didn’t touch a mixing bowl for months. But I guess the change of scenery did the trick, because I woke up a few weeks back and for the first time since I quit, I wanted to get back in the kitchen.” I gave Cameron a wry smile. “I was so excited that I went straight to the store for baking supplies. Met a cute guy there too, even if I did knock him on his ass.”
Cameron huffed out a laugh. “You stole my fondant.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I did feel bad about that. But you’ve forgiven me now, right?”
Cameron hummed like he was considering it before saying, “I guess knocking you over with my car makes us even.”
“Absolutely,” I said. I bit the head off the gingerbread man, and I was unprepared for the perfect blend of sugar and spices that flooded my tastebuds. A filthy moan escaped me.
