in town. You can’t miss his cart. He’s normally around the gazebo in the center of town. His cart is called Santa’s Milk.”
Her smile softened as she studied me. My heart picked up speed as I tried to keep my reaction to myself. I wasn’t sure how she felt about me, but my interest in who she was was starting to grow. Stronger that I cared to admit.
“Santa’s Milk.” She wrinkled her nose.
“I know. It’s weird, but it’s a fun cart. You’ll enjoy it.” I took a step forward and then regretted it when Beatrice straightened and glanced down at my feet. Had I made a mistake? I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.
“I’ll keep an eye out for it.”
“Bea,” Emilia called from the front door, where she was waiting with Porter.
I tried to catch his gaze, but Porter wasn’t complying. Instead, he just stood there looking pleased with himself.
“You driving them?” I asked. Everyone looked over at me, and I realized that I hadn’t made an effort to police the bite to my tone. To everyone here, Porter was just another guest and I was the jerk yelling at him. “I’m sorry,” I muttered.
“Yeah. Their car is still in the shop.” Porter pushed his hand through his hair and gave me a what was that for look.
I wanted to respond. After all, he was my punk cousin, but Emilia looked so happy as she stood there, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet and waving for Beatrice to hurry up.
Beatrice offered me a weak smile before she turned and headed over to her friend. “I’ll see you later?” she called over her shoulder as she lingered in the doorway.
My entire mood lightened as I realized she was waiting for me to respond. “Yeah. I’ll be here,” I said as I lifted the tray of discarded cookies.
Her smile broadened as she nodded. “Perfect.”
She turned and walked out onto the porch, shutting the door behind her.
My gaze lingered on the door as I sighed. What was I doing? Why was I allowing myself to react this way? She was a guest, and I was hiding out here until my wounds healed enough for me to go back. I was an idiot to entertain thoughts like the ones I was currently suppressing.
I wasn’t here to indulge in the idea of romance. I was here to work and forget. That was all.
I blew out my breath as I turned to focus on cleaning up the table. Just as I turned around, Mom’s face popped into view. She was inches away, peering up at me with a smile that made me want to groan.
I moved to the other side of the table to continue cleaning only to have her follow after me. When it became apparent that she wasn’t going to leave me alone, I clamped down on my frustration and turned to face her. “What’s up?” I asked.
Mom folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. Her fingers tapped on her forearm as she studied me. “What happened in town? You didn’t want to go, and then when you got back, you spent the entire evening staring at Beatrice.”
“I did not spend the entire evening staring at anyone.”
Mom nodded. “You’re right. You spent the entire evening trying not to stare at Beatrice.” Mom held still as her eyes darted back and forth.
“I did not do that,” I lied as I moved to collect a few frosting bottles and place them on my tray.
“Mm-hmm,” Mom said as she gathered a few empty cookie trays and followed me into the kitchen.
I placed my tray next to the sink and then turned to face her. “Hypothetically”—I narrowed my eyes—“hypothetically,” I repeated, “if you wanted to give someone the perfect Christmas, how would you do that?”
Mom’s eyebrows rose higher than I’d ever seen in my life. Her eyes widened and I feared I’d made a huge mistake.
“Hypothetically,” I whispered.
“Hypothetically,” Mom responded, her voice breathy and full of relief.
I nodded.
Mom studied me for a moment before she turned on her heel and started walking over to her small office just off the kitchen. Not sure what she was doing, I followed but lingered next to the door instead of going inside.
A moment later, she emerged with a piece of paper in her hand. She waved it under my nose until I took it from her.
“Hallmark Bingo?” I glanced up at her.
She nodded.
“Holiday baking slash flour fight?” My gaze moved through the boxes. “Interrupted first kiss?” My