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Chapter One
Grace
The secret to making good gingerbread is how long you chill the dough. Some people swear by an hour, but I’ve tried that, and the cookie always ends up soft. I’m looking for crisp, hard edges. A sturdy Christmas cookie that can hold up to all the icing and candy kids will be piling on top.
“How many trays do you have left?” Arnie scrubs his hand down over his beard. It’s been a long day. We should’ve left the lodge two hours ago, but it’s crunch time. The motorcycle club spent almost a year building this place. Now it’s our job to make Balsam Creek Lodge a destination people look forward to coming to.
I blow out a heavy breath. “I still have to finish these two trays and there’s another four to go in. I’ll be here another few hours. You go ahead home.”
He lowers his head and stares at me with the downturned look of a dad who knows better than to leave a single woman alone on the road at night. “I’m not leaving you here. We had an inch of snow fall already and there’s more to come. I’d feel better if I stayed.”
I shake my head and peek into the oven. The cookies are puffing, and the scent of ginger and cinnamon fills the room. “This isn’t about the snow. You’re worried about Jack showing up. I told you he’s all talk, and no bite.”
Arnie is the cook for the lodge, and though he’s in his late forties and I’m only twenty-six, we’ve found an odd friendship in each other. He looks out for me, and I cause him a never-ending train of headaches. It’s our thing.
I roll my eyes and open the oven door, letting the heat blast my face warm as I pull the sheet pan. “Seriously, I’ll be fine. Go get started on your weekend.”
“Oh…” Arnie laughs under his breath. “Well, if it’s that easy, I guess I’ll leave you here to do your thing.” I know he’s being sarcastic.
I settle the tray on the counter and slide the next two into the oven. “You know, we shouldn’t focus on me so much. What we should be doing is looking for a date for you.”
I think this is one of the conversations that causes him so many headaches. I can’t figure why he’s single. A big guy with loads of tattoos that likes to listen to your problems, you’d think he’d have been snatched up years ago.
“I don’t need a date. I told you and everyone else here that. I’m good being single. Besides, my plate is already full. My daughter just came back into my life, and I barely have enough time for her as it is. The last thing I need is a love life to figure out.” He smiles. “Not to mention, you don’t make it look that appealing.”
“Not everyone is like Jack. Jack is a special case.”
“I think a man who takes you out of town and leaves you at a rest stop is more than a‘special case.’He’s certifiable.” Arnie has been upset about this since it happened two weeks ago.
“He’s a hot head. That’s all.”
“You’re making excuses for him.”
I grab the spatula off the counter and transfer the baked cookies to the cooling rack. “I’m not making excuses. I feel dumb.”
Arnie grabs a piece of broken gingerbread from the counter and groans with delight as he bites into the warm morsel. If he wasn’t twenty years older than me, I’d be into him. Aside from the fact that he’s hot as hell, he’s the most emotionally in tune man I’ve ever met. Sure, he has his moments of barbaric nonsense, but for the most part, Arnie’s age brings him a wisdom that men in my dating pool don’t have.
“You’re not dumb.” His big, rough hand lands on my shoulder. “You trusted someone. You’re human.”
“Human? That seems like a really low bar.” I blow out a heavy breath and stare down at the cooling cookies. “Do you think I made enough?”
“I’d say so. There’s wha—”
“Gracie,” a deep voice interrupts. I recognize it immediately and lift my gaze to meet Jack’s. He’s standing in the back door of the kitchen in tight black jeans and a black hoodie. Dark shadows line under his eyes and the scent of alcohol spilling off him overpowers the sweet scent of ginger in the air. “We need to talk. You’ve been avoiding me.”
Arnie steps between us, widening his shoulders. “There’s nothing to talk about. Leave.” His tone is deep and harsh. It’s a version of Arnie I don’t usually experience, but I hear the built-up rage in his tone and I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so protected.
Jack steps forward, tightening his fists.
Alone, Jack is a big guy. I’d say he’s six foot two and maybe two hundred and twenty pounds. Tattoos cover his arms and neck, and there’s an air about him that’s dark and dangerous. As sick as it is, that’s what drew him to me in the beginning. But next to Arnie, Jack may as well be a toddler.
Arnie steps forward, towering over Jack in both height and stature. “I said, leave.”
Jack stares up at Arnie, then back toward me. “Gracie invited me here, old man.”
“I didn’t invite you here.” I step forward, sliding between the two men. I don’t want Arnie getting into trouble. Jack has connections all over the Springs. I know his dad is a big federal defense attorney and half his family works for the police department up there as well.
Jack grins. “The last time we spoke, you told me to stop by and see you.”
