“As you can see,” Jenny said, gesturing to the spread before them, “we have some tough competition tonight. Our judges are going to have their work cut out for them!”
The cookie contest continued as Jenny explained the rules and introduced the judges. I tried to focus on the event unfolding before us but couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between Daryl and me.
But I couldn’t think about that right now. There was a contest to host, and I had to keep my focus.
Jenny moved around the stage, her excitement palpable as she continued introducing the contestants. The crowd leaned in, eager to see and taste what these talented bakers had brought to the table.
Lucy’s table was adorned with rows of meticulously decorated gingerbread men and women. Each cookie was a miniature work of art, with tiny candy buttons and delicate icing patterns. The smell of ginger and cinnamon wafted through the air, making my mouth water.
Next to her, Annie’s display was equally impressive. She had created an assortment of sugar cookies shaped like Christmas trees, snowflakes, and reindeer. They sparkled under the café lights, dusted with colored sugar and adorned with intricate royal icing designs. Her cookies had a playful yet elegant quality that caught everyone’s attention.
As Jenny moved down the line, introducing more contestants, I noticed Daryl still watching from his seat. His eyes followed the proceedings with an intensity that made me wonder what he was thinking. But I had no time to dwell on that now.
The next contestant was Mrs. Thompson, a kindly older woman who had been baking for the contest since its inception. Her table was filled with traditional shortbread cookies, each one perfectly golden and dusted with just the right amount of powdered sugar. They looked simple but were undoubtedly delicious.
Then there was young Peter, who had decided to participate for the first time this year. He presented a batch of chocolate chip cookies that were gooey and warm, the chocolate still melty from the oven. They smelled heavenly and reminded me of home.
As Jenny wrapped up the introductions, she handed the microphone over to our head judge for the evening—Mr. Patterson, a retired chef known for his discerning palate. He stepped forward with a smile and began his remarks on how each cookie would be judged on taste, texture, and presentation.
The room buzzed with anticipation as Mr. Patterson approached Lucy’s table first. He took a bite of her gingerbread cookie, chewing thoughtfully before nodding in approval. The crowd applauded softly as he moved on to Annie’s display.
And he was here.
He came.
And that made me feel more joy than I could have ever expected.
Then again, everything about Daryl Walker was unexpected.
Chapter10
Daryl
Ileaned back in my chair, arms crossed, scanning the scene. Tables lined up with an assortment of cookies, each more elaborately decorated than the last. Judges moved between them, murmuring to each other and taking delicate bites.
I tried a cookie from a booth, one decorated like a little snowman. This one had a sugary glaze that was almost too sweet, but there was a pleasant lemon zest that cut through it. Not something I'd usually go for, but I found myself taking another bite.
I tried a few more, each offering different flavors—chocolate chips that melted in my mouth, chewy oatmeal raisin with just the right amount of spice, and even a peanut butter cookie that was surprisingly good despite my general aversion to sweets.
Beth appeared beside me with a triumphant smile. "So? What do you think?"
"They're all right." I shrugged, trying to downplay my enjoyment.
"Everything's all right to you, hmm?" she asked.
Lucy beamed as she was announced the winner with her gingerbread cookies. The crowd clapped, and she received her ribbon with a modest smile. Beth clapped enthusiastically, her grin wide and genuine.
I tried to focus on the dwindling crowd, but my eyes kept drifting back to Beth. She was sitting next to me, the chair a little too close for comfort. But I didn't mind as much as I should have.
"Congrats to Lucy," she said, standing up. "A well-deserved win."
I nodded, my eyes following her as she moved toward the counter to top off her hot chocolate. The café was starting to empty out, people heading home with satisfied smiles and full bellies.
Beth's hair fell in soft waves around her face as she poured more cocoa into her cup. She looked up, caught my gaze, and smiled before returning to her task. Something about the way she moved, so effortlessly kind and warm, made it hard to look away.
I pretended to be interested in the half-empty tables and chairs as people trickled out of the café. Conversations turned into murmurs and then into silence.
Beth returned to her seat, cradling her steaming mug between her hands. "You want some more?" She gestured toward the cocoa pot.
