Cameron grinned. “Should I be jealous of that gingerbread?”
“Holy shit,” I said once I’d swallowed. “It’s incredible. I’m gonna need this recipe.”
“The cookies are great,” Cameron said with a shrug. He gestured to the crumbling castle. “But this? It’s a hot mess.”
“I told you, I’m happy to help fix it,” I said.
Cameron hesitated. “If you help me and I win, it would feel like I cheated you out of your title.”
God, he really was adorably earnest, but he was also taking this whole contest way too seriously. “Cameron, I don’t really care about winning.”
“No?” He shot me a skeptical look. “Then why enter?”
I took a deep breath. “Cards on the table? Winning would be nice, but I really only entered as an excuse to get to know you. You mentioned that you made gingerbread houses, and I figured if we both entered we might get to spend some time together and you’d realize I wasn’t a total jerk. Plus this was the first time I’dbeen excited about baking in a long time. But mainly I entered because I think you’re really cute.”
Cameron blinked at me. “Huh.”
Wow. Hardly the reaction I was hoping for. And now I’d put myself out there and made it weird.Way to go, self.
Embarrassment washed over me in waves of hot and cold and I felt my smile fade. I wondered if there was a secret room somewhere that I could hide in until the snowplow got here. Maybe I could fake a dizzy spell and retreat to the bedroom.
But then Cameron took in my expression and his eyes widened. “No! Thathuhwas because I’m not used to hot guys flirting with me. It’s not because I’m not interested.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m bad at this whole communication thing, in case you hadn’t noticed. But I like you too.” A faint blush stained his cheeks and he gave me a shy smile.
“Wait. Are you saying I might have a shot here after all?” I asked, my chest tight as I waited for his answer.
“I mean, IguessI could date the sexy new guy in town,” Cameron said, eyes bright, “on one condition.”
“Yeah?”
“You help me un-hot this mess.” He gestured at the gingerbread and a smile lit up his face, brighter than any Christmas lights. “What do you say, Finn? Wanna ice my baubles?”
I snorted out a laugh. Then I finished my coffee and stole another gingerbread man while Cameron cleaned the counter and pulled out all his decorating supplies, shooting me pleased glances from under his lashes the whole time.
We got to work. Cameron was pretty good for an amateur. He rolled the fondant into a sheet and cut out individual shapes that he attached to the lone remaining turret, his face a picture of concentration. It was kind of cute the way the tip of his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he worked. But it wasn’tlong before things started to go wrong, and the turret tipped sideways and slid gently down the wall, landing in a heap at the base.
“Why is it doing that?” he asked, throwing his hands up in the air.
I picked up the fondant tiles he’d been making, balancing one on a fingertip. “It’s too thick. You either need thicker gingerbread or you need to roll the fondant half as thin again to reduce the weight.”
“But then it’s impossible to work with,” he said, glaring at the broken-down castle like it had personally offended him.
“Not if you do it right,” I said. “Your rolling technique is good, but you need to apply a more even pressure and work faster, before the fondant gets too soft to handle.”
Cameron’s lips pressed together in a thin line, but he gave a terse nod and picked up a new block of fondant and started to roll it. I leaned my ass against the counter to watch and took the opportunity to admire the movement of muscles under skin as he worked. I’d always been weak for a nice forearm flex.
Cameron huffed in annoyance when the fondant failed to cooperate. “This is dumb. Who can’t work a sheet of fondant?”
“Lots of people,” I said. “That’s why bakeries exist.” I pushed myself off the bench and folded my own sleeves up to the elbow. “Want me to help?”
“No.” Cameron snapped, then sighed. “Sorry. Yes.”
I let out a soft laugh. I’d had my share of projects where I wanted to throw the whole thing against the wall, so I recognized his frustration. I moved behind him, bracketing him with my body, and placed my hands over his on the rolling pin. His breath caught at the unexpected touch, but then he settled his weight against me, tilting his head back. “Show me,” he said quietly, his lips curving up.
It shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was.
I let out a long breath and told myself to focus, then leaned forward and started to roll out the fondant in long, practiced strokes. But it was hard to keep my attention on gingerbread houses when I was distracted by the lean body trapped in front of me, the warm, delicate fingers curled under mine, and Cameron’s pale, tempting throat that was just begging to be kissed. It didn’t help that Cameron was rocking back against my body as we worked, his touch teasing, and making my dick harden in my jeans.
I ground forward instinctively, and when Cameron let out a breathy moan, I lost my grip on the rolling pin and it went flying off the edge of the counter, clattering to the floor.
