Page 80 of Cowboy’s Christmas Baker

“Okay,” Mal said to herself, spinning around the kitchen.

It might not be the biggest space in the world, but it was bigger than the one in her apartment and cozier than the one at the bakery. There was a nice window overlooking the hillside and the barns too.

By the time she had finished with the roasted chicken, Harrison was all done with his chores and coming down the stairs after a shower.

Perfect timing.

It had been fun to cook in the new space, and she had taken the liberty of turning on the radio and letting WCCR’s Christmas music keep her company.

“Smells amazing,” Harrison’s deep voice boomed from the stairwell.

Mal looked up as Harrison ducked his head at the landing of the back stairs and her heart skipped a beat.

She had expected him to be in his usual jeans and a flannel. After the day he’d had, she wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d come down the stairs in pajamas.

Instead, he was wearing a crisp white button-down and a pair of charcoal-gray trousers. His damp hair was slicked back, the length of it just brushing his collar.

He dressed for our date, even though it’s happening in his own kitchen.

“Hey,” he said.

“You look amazing,” she said out loud.

“I clean up okay,” he said, smiling. “But you look amazing. And it smells so good in here. A man could get used to this.”

She smiled, trying not to let his sweet words send her thoughts spiraling.

“Shall we?” she asked him, gesturing to the kitchen table, which she had set. “Or we can go out to the dining room?”

“Here is great,” Harrison said.

She brought over the pan with the roasted chicken breasts and potatoes and then came back with steamed veggies to go with it.

“This is incredible, Mallory,” Harrison said. “I can’t believe you baked all day and then came here and cooked. I’m sorry again about that.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she told him as they served themselves. “And this is easy stuff.”

She closed her eyes for a moment of silent thanks, and when she opened her eyes, she was pleased to see that Harrison had done the same.

“Oh, wow,” he moaned over his first bite of chicken.

“It’s the fresh rosemary and thyme,” Mal told him. “I wish I had a little herb garden in my kitchen.”

“It’s handy,” Harrison agreed. “It actually came with the house, but I enjoy it.”

They talked casually about food and cooking while they ate at a leisurely pace.

“By the way, I saw that post,” Harrison said with a smile. “When were you planning to tell me about it?”

“It’s just a post,” she said, smiling with pleasure. Bringing it up would have felt like boasting, but it was so exciting. “But it’s still so cool. And everyone in town was stopping in today to talk about it.”

“I’m really happy for you,” he told her seriously. “What’s next?”

“Well, like I said, it was just a post,” she said. “But it felt good to see someone who doesn’t even know me getting excited about something I baked. It was kind of inspiring.”

She told him about a few of the ideas she had, and even filled him in on her pipe dream to add an oven and more seating if she bought the building.

After a long day, it was such a luxury to sit and talk quietly over a nourishing meal. Mal always had good intentions, but she was prone to finding herself jotting down bakery ideas in a notebook while she ate a warmed-up can of soup for dinner. It just seemed like a waste to cook for one person. She did most of her cooking when she visited her dad’s house.