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She gestured between herself and Red, then back to Jackson. "None of us came here looking for love. Red and I were just here for business, and you were here to start over. Yet, here we are, all warm, fuzzy, and smitten."
Jackson laughed, shaking his head. "Must be something in the air."
"Must be," Viv replied, her gaze softening. "But happy looks good on you, Jackson."
They finished their drinks and left him alone to lock up. Jackson made his way home, Viv's words echoing in his mind. He was happy and in love, and like he promised Doc, he was staying.
He entered the cabin to find Amanda fast asleep at her desk with her hand on the laptop keyboard. The words 'The End' were displayed on the screen. As he woke her and took her to bed, he hoped the characters she created would find the same joy and love he had found in her arms.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Amanda paced the living room of the secluded cabin, the cool hardwood under her bare feet a stark contrast to the heat radiating from the lit fireplace. It was a different kind of anticipation today, not like any of her previous book releases. This one was personal, more meaningful somehow. She couldn't keep still, her heart fluttering with every rustle of leaves or crack of a twig outside, half-expecting it to be the delivery truck she was anxiously awaiting.
Catsby meowed in protest of her sudden movements, weaving around her ankles as if attempting to calm or trip her and stop the endless pacing. Amanda stooped to scratch the cat behind his ears, the purring a soothing balm to her restless spirit.
Gunner chose to observe the spectacle from the comfort of his rug by the fireplace, too tired from the morning's walk to partake in the excitement. His brown eyes followed Amanda, his tail thumping against the floor at her occasional reassuring smiles.
Desperate to ease her nerves, she called Meg. Her friend's voice was always a grounding force in her whirlwind of emotions.
"Hey, Meg," Amanda exhaled into the phone, pressing it against her ear as she continued her restless pacing.
"Has it arrived?"
"No," she said in exasperation before walking three more lengths of the room.
"I can hear you. Have you left a worn path on the floor yet?" The sound of Meg's laughter eased the tension. "You've done this before, remember?"
A small smile tugged at Amanda's lips. "I know, but this feels different. It's ... it's Aspen Cove."
"I get it. It's a piece of you. But remember, you've written a brilliant book, and I can't wait for the next one. Trust me. The world needs more of what you offer.”
A sudden rustle outside had Amanda's heart leaping. "Meg, I think it's here! I'll call you back!" She hurriedly ended the call, leaving Catsby in her wake as she rushed toward the window, hoping to see the long-awaited delivery truck. However, she only found that pesky raccoon who habitually looked in the windows as if begging to return.
Seeing her anxiety, Jackson tried to bring her back into the present moment. "Why don't we focus on our special Christmas Eve plans? That'll help keep your mind off waiting."
Amanda turned toward him. "What plans?"
"Did you forget about the Christmas cookie hop we talked about?"
Recognition flashed in Amanda's eyes. "Oh my God, yes. I did." Every family in Aspen Cove was supposed to bake a batch of cookies and go to Main Street to sample them.
"I thought so, which is why I'm about to get started on our batch."
He gestured toward the kitchen, where a jumble of ingredients lay waiting on the counter. The oven was preheating, filling the cabin with a comforting warmth opposite to the chilly winter outside.
"Would you come and help me?" he asked, his eyes pinning her with a playful challenge. "I could use the company. Maybe the distraction would do you some good."
A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and her mind steered away from her book. She gave a decisive nod with a thoughtful glance at the waiting kitchen. "Alright, let's do this. Christmas in Aspen Cove wouldn't be complete without a proper cookie hop."
With the promise of the warm, shared activity, the cabin was filled with a new kind of vitality—the start of a new tradition and the joy of a group event. And the delivery of her book took a comfortable backseat to the delightful prospect of baking Christmas cookies with Jackson.
With newfound determination, Amanda tied an apron around her waist and joined him in the kitchen. They embarked on the cookie-making journey, a dash of laughter and a sprinkle of playful banter being ingredients just as crucial as the flour and sugar they worked with.
They fell into a rhythm, Amanda mixing the dry ingredients while Jackson whipped up the wet ones. He'd occasionally sneak a bit of cookie dough, grinning like a child when Amanda would swat his hand away, scolding him about salmonella risks. Their smiles were bright and genuine, the kitchen brimming with lightheartedness.
Catsby hopped onto a stool, watching them with intrigue, while Gunner wagged his tail happily, hoping for any dropped goodies.
The cookie dough was soon ready, and they painstakingly shaped it into little rounds, Jackson even attempting to make a few in the shape of Christmas trees, their forms more abstract than accurate. Amanda laughed at his attempt, her worries forgotten in the shared joy of the task.
