I watched Delia shuffle from the room with Grandma Jean’s assistance, then I sank onto the sofa. With an agitated growl, I tossed the frozen danish onto the coffee table.Talk about a disaster.The bag of peas had thawed, and the fire had slowly dwindled to nothing but a few weak flames. Without its warm glow, the room was as unwelcoming as the barren Christmas tree perched in the corner. I dropped my head into my hands, doing my best to not relive my last few moments with Delia before Simon’s unwanted arrival. But it was impossible.
Three was definitely a crowd, and unless Simon kept his distance, it was going to be a long two weeks until Christmas.
Chapter 10
Delia
Sprained ankles were the worst. You couldn't even pace properly. With a frustrated groan, I collapsed onto the cushioned window seat and leaned my forehead against the cold glass. Six inches of fresh powder covered the ground. Evidence that you shouldn't cast a magical snowstorm, and then forget to cancel it. And you definitely shouldn’t forget that you left an enchanted pastry sitting on the front porch, freezing in the elements.
But in my defense, I'd been a little distracted. And by distracted, I meant holy holly berries, I’d almost kissed Jack.
I blamed the cozy fire—that I’d magically lit for warmth, not atmosphere, though it kind of backfired—and the way Jack smelled like fresh pine during a manufactured snow squall. He’d literally carried me across a frozen tundra and then bandaged my ankle.A girl can only take so much.
But then Simon showed up and poured a gallon of icy water on the fire. And by fire, I meant the hots I had for Jack.Ugh! No. No. No.This couldn’t be happening. Why was Simon here, anyway? It made no sense. Agents didn’t work in pairs, and there were a million other small towns at Christmastime to perform miracles. The agency wouldn’t send us to the same place.
Unless…Maybe this wasn’t the agency at all, but the universe trying to knock some sense into my romance-starved brain. I’d been pining after Simon for three years, and right when I was close to attracting his attention, and getting everything I’d ever wanted, I was sabotaging myself. This was just destiny swooping in to keep me on track.
I glanced at my poinsettia sitting on the nightstand and frowned as a leaf came loose and fell softly to the floor. A few other leaves had already met their demise sometime overnight.That can’t be good.Had I forgotten to water it?
A soft knock on my door made me jump, and I limped from the window seat to open it and poked my head into the hall. Simon greeted me with a cool smile and a mug of steaming coffee in each hand. He was dressed in a pressed suit with a holiday tie expertly knotted around his neck. A little formal for the Bradley Inn, but not for Simon.I wonder what he’d look like in flannel?
“I brought reinforcements,” Simon said, handing off one of the mugs. His mouth twisted in distaste as he surveyed my messy appearance and bandaged ankle. “You look like you could use it.”
“Yeah, well, it's been a week,” I said, peering in both directions and listening for any other signs of movement. When I was sure the coast was clear, I waved Simon inside my room. “Quick, before anyone sees you.”
“Why are photographers not allowed in the first-floor bedrooms?” he asked dryly.
“It’s part of my cover story.” I closed the door behind him and leaned against the wood, taking a life-saving sip of caffeine. “As far as anyone’s concerned, I work for an occult magazine, and I’m featuring Grandma Jean’s Spells and Brews Ladies’ Club in our holiday edition.”
Simon nodded and rested a shoulder against the bedpost. Everything felt surreal. The man of my dreams was currently sipping coffee in my bedroom, and instead of feeling joy, I was trying to stave off a stress-induced headache.
He shrugged. “It’s not a bad ruse. But what are you going to do when they want to order a copy?”
I nearly choked on my coffee. I hadn’t thought about that. “Photoshop, and a little bit of magic?”
“That could work, and actually your story fits well for my purposes.” He tipped his mug in my direction. “Good work, Frost.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked. My eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Is this about my trial period? I’m doing great. Right on schedule for a miracle. You can let the agency know there’s no need for check-ins.”
Simon shook his head and drained his coffee. “It’s true the agency is often nervous about first-timers, but this isn’t about that. I’m here to work a case.” He pulled his phone from his suit pocket and scrolled until he found what he was looking for. Turning the device, he displayed a close-up photo of a smiling young woman wearing a white chef’s coat.
“Wait. You’re here for Becky Santos? There must be a mixup. She’s part of my case.”
Simon frowned and checked his phone. “There’s no mistake. Becky Santos is my target. The case file says it’s always been her dream to win one of those prime-time holiday bake-offs and open up a fancy pastry shop in the city. So I’m here to make that happen, and it’s a tight deadline. It just came across my desk. Usually, I have more lead time. I've had to pull quite a few magical strings back home to make things happen.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and hobbled back to the window seat. This was a disaster! Becky couldn’t leave town now. It would ruin my plan and effectively my case. Not that I wanted to stand in the way of anyone’s dreams, but I couldn’t start over. How was I supposed to make Jack fall in love at Christmastime with a complete stranger? I might be a miracle worker, but I wasn’t bold enough to think I could pull off a love-at-first-sight match on my first try. Those were saved for level three agents at least!
Besides, case files were never wrong. The information was rock solid, based on a mystical formula that was way above my pay grade. If I couldn’t make it work, that was my failure, not the agency’s.
What was I going to do? Disappointment stabbed me behind the ribcage.
“I’m going to lose the promotion, aren’t I?”And the cute office right next to Simon. And his respect. Plus, I’m going to be stuck doing Agatha’s menial tasks forever.Seriously, at this point, I was a candidate for a miracle. Why weren’t they sending someone out for me?
Simon cocked his head and gave me a quizzical look. “It’s far more dire than that, I’m afraid.”
“What do you mean?”
“The agency guarantee isn’t just a saying, it’s contractual. There are consequences if we don’t complete our missions or if we break the rules. Frankly, I’m surprised you were allowed to work a matchmaking case before you were a full agent. They look easy on paper, but matters of the heart are complicated, and the punishment is severe if you fail.”
