Christmas Comes to Main Street (15 page)

She raised an eyebrow. “Suggesting it? From where I stood, you didn't leave me much of a choice. Not that I'm glad you didn't.”

“Competitive, are you?”

Kara considered the question as she broke off a piece of the crusty bread. “Not competitive, no. More like… determined. Even though I opened the bakery for myself, part of me feels the need to keep it going to prove the naysayers wrong.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I understand,” he said, and something in the distance in his voice told her that he really did. Why he understood was yet to be determined. She hoped to get to the bottom of it—to know him better.

But why?
she asked herself, remembering how Christmas would come all too soon. There was no sense in getting to know Nate; she needed to just enjoy his company and leave it at that.

She stole a glance in his direction, her pulse skipping at the sight of his face. Easier said than done, she realized.

“I'd love to see what you've come up with for the contest,” Nate said suddenly.

Kara hesitated. It wasn't like she worried he would copy her idea—how could he?—but more that she wasn't sure she was ready to share such a personal part of herself yet. With him. Or with anyone.

“It's nowhere near finished, and after today, who knows if it will be. I'd hoped to do some baking today, to work on the roof. If I feel better later on, I might go downstairs and try.” She sneezed and guiltily met Nate's eye. So much for that.

“If you'd rather not share, I understand. My aunt is guarding that house from anyone but paying guests. And beautiful women who deliver mouthwatering cookies in time for high tea,” he added with a grin.

Kara's hand stilled midway to the soup bowl, and she felt her cheeks grow warm at the compliment. He'd just called her beautiful—something she hadn't heard in a long time, especially from a man. And it wasn't just the fact that a person of the opposite sex found her attractive. It was that a man she was growing more and more fond of might feel the same.

She let out a small sigh. If only he wasn't leaving in a week.

Not knowing what to do with the compliment, and embarrassed by the heat of her face, she blurted, “I'll show you what I've done so far, but remember it's not finished. I still have to do the roof and the chimney, and most of the decorations, too.” She stood, finding she already had more energy than she did before he stopped by, and guided him to the kitchen door, which led to an internal staircase down to the first floor.

She began questioning herself as soon as her foot hit the first step. What was she thinking? This man was the competition! And unlike Kathleen Madison or her mother, or some of the other people in town, Nate had made it clear that he was determined to win, and no doubt Mrs. Griffin was, too. She hardly knew the guy—he wasn't willing to open up much. And here she was about to reveal something that wasn't just her chance at a big break for her bakery but also something that was deeply personal. Where was her judgment?

But that was just the thing, she supposed. When it came to Nate, she hadn't shown much of it. He had a knack for talking her into things.

Minutes later, they were standing in the kitchen of Sugar and Spice, Kara careful not to breathe on anything for fear of spreading germs, and Nate almost deadly quiet as he stared at the giant house she was constructing in the back corner of the room. Kara shifted the weight on her feet, feeling uneasy and full of regret, knowing they should have just stayed upstairs in her apartment. But oh… the thought of sitting there, looking into those eyes, alone in those quiet four walls… It made her want something she probably couldn't have.

“I think this Kathleen person may have met her match,” Nate finally said.

Kara blushed and waved away the remark, but her heart was racing with fresh hope. She might actually stand a chance! She might really win!

“It's not finished. See this?” She pointed to the pattern she'd managed to cut the day before, just before the cold hit full force and before the fever started. “I still have to make the roof. It's the last piece I'll add, but it needs to be finished soon so I can focus on the decorations.”

Nate nodded and quietly studied the rest of the house. “Is this design modeled on anything?”

Kara hesitated. She didn't often talk about her father; he'd died so long ago. It was sad in many ways, even though he was always in her heart. “It's my childhood home. My mother still lives there. I wanted to re-create the feeling of Christmas morning. The excitement. The joy. The comfort.” She glanced through one of the windows. “See that chair near the fireplace? My dad used to sit there while we all scrambled around, tearing open our gifts. I love that chair.”

She swallowed the lump that had welled in her throat and stared at the room as memories sprang to life, almost real enough to touch. When she finally blinked, she realized that Nate was staring at her.

“Sorry,” she muttered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She suddenly felt vulnerable, exposed. Here she was in her pajamas, with no makeup, getting emotional about her past with a guy who was just passing through town… Only somehow he was beginning to feel like so much more than that.

“No apology needed,” Nate said, giving her a kind smile. “It sounds like your Christmas mornings were something to be cherished.”

There was something wistful in his eyes that made her think his Christmases weren't ones he wanted to remember.

She nodded, struggling to push back the mix of emotions she felt when she thought of those days. Picture-perfect moments. Hers to keep forever. Just ones not meant to last forever, however much she'd wished they could.

She blinked back the tears that threatened to spill, telling herself firmly she had nothing to be sad over. She should be grateful, really, that she'd had that time. After all, she thought, drifting her gaze to Nate, perhaps not everyone did.

Kara sneezed, managing to turn her back from the gingerbread house just in time.

“You should get some rest,” Nate said firmly. He reached out to wipe the strand of hair from her cheek, the pad of his thumb lingering a second longer than probably necessary as his gaze bored into hers.

Kara held her breath. It was the perfect moment to kiss. To just lean forward and… She sneezed again, managing to bring her arm up just in time. Laughing, she said, “You're probably right.”

The moment was gone, but something told her she hadn't imagined it. She'd seen the way his eyes had locked with hers, and her cheek still tingled from the memory of his touch. She brought a hand to it, recalling the warmth of his skin.

With great reluctance, she walked over to the door and turned to see him still standing near the gingerbread house. “You coming?”

Nate shook his head. “I'll let myself out. You focus on getting better.”

Kara nodded, even though she wished she could press the matter, invite him back upstairs. Disappointment landed heavily in her chest. “Thanks. For today.”

“It was my pleasure,” Nate said.

Kara rested her hands on the doorjamb and smiled. The pleasure had been all hers.

T
he next morning, Kara stared at her Holiday House contest entry in disbelief. For a moment she considered the possibility that she was dreaming, but the warm morning sun told her otherwise. She couldn't believe it. She honestly couldn't believe it. Her mind whirred with possibilities, but every question led to the same answer. Nate.

But how?

Gingerly, she reached out and touched the edge of the perfectly assembled roof, created exactly from her pattern and held together with royal icing, expertly piped.

Maybe he'd gotten Anna involved. But he'd only met her briefly at the Christmas party. No, he must have done this himself. There was no other way.

She shook her head as the smile spread over her face. And here she'd thought a bowl of soup was one of the nicest things a man had ever given her. This? This required some kind of payback.

She set to work on the cookies right away, and even though she knew they'd probably be snatched up if she sold them in the shop, she decided against it. Nate had supported her entry yesterday. Today, she would support his.

After she'd made her morning batches of snowflake cookies, iced gingerbread men, chocolate-dipped shortbread, and today's special, cranberry spice biscotti, she got to work decorating the individual sugar cookies and carefully set them in a tin lined with parchment paper.

The sun was back, and shoppers were ticking off the last items on their list as they strolled Main Street. While still not one hundred percent, Kara was feeling much better than yesterday, and she suspected that the soup, and Nate's visit, had something to do with it.

By noon she was able to turn the sign on the door, allowing herself enough of a break to dart over to the inn to deliver the daily order. She was already dreaming of the day when she'd have someone to help in the kitchen, and another to man the counter, thus making these little delivery breaks a little less cumbersome. It could happen, she realized with a flutter in her stomach. And soon. All she needed to do was win the contest and then…

She stopped herself right there. No use getting ahead of herself just yet. As Nate had inadvertently reminded her yesterday, Kathleen Madison was a force to be reckoned with. It would take something really special to compete with the woman who had won the contest every single year she had entered. People had tried, and no one had succeeded thus far. But maybe this was the year…

The paths through the town square had been shoveled, and Kara took the shortcut, knowing she had a lot to make up for since she'd lost all of yesterday. Her gingerbread house orders were behind, thus doubling today's work on them, and if this morning's traffic was any indication, then she'd be busy serving customers through to the close of the day. It was a good thing she'd had the sense to double her batches.

Kara glanced longingly at the skating rink. Once January came, and the contest and Christmas orders were behind her, she hoped to find more time in her week to get out on the ice. Not that it would be the same skating alone, instead of with Nate…

She stopped and looked up at the inn. He'd certainly been busy. In the one day she'd spent holed up in her apartment, the outside had all but sprung to life. Lights were wrapped around every tree branch and shrub, and each window box now boasted beautiful greenery with sheaves of magnolia to match the wreaths on the front door. The house was large, with three windows on each side of the door, a large, dome-shaped window above it, with three paned windows lined with black shutters on either side. In each of the twelve windows, a different item from the song was featured, starting at the top left corner with a gilded partridge.

Kara felt a flicker of panic. Competition was stiff this year. Kathleen Madison might lose her reign, but that didn't mean Kara's gingerbread house would top the list.

She hurried to the inn before her nerves could get the better of her, eager to get back to the bakery. But first… she had to thank Nate.

He was inside the lobby when she pushed through the doors. She held back, stomping the snow off her boots as he helped an older guest carry her luggage down the stairs. Spotting her, he raised his arm in greeting, a signal she took to mean she should wait.

“I've called a cab to take you the airport,” he was telling the woman as he led her over to the sitting area. “They should be here in about twenty minutes. In the meantime, why don't you relax by the fire? There's coffee and tea on the console near the hall if you'd like anything.”

“You're becoming a pro at this,” Kara remarked with a smile as he came to meet her.

“I enjoy it, actually,” Nate said. “I'm not really sure how my aunt does it all on her own.” He frowned a little at that.

Kara shrugged, hoping to downplay his distress. “She loves it. It keeps her young, fills her days.”

“I suppose so. Especially since she's here all alone.” Again the little wrinkle between his eyebrows appeared.

“She's not alone,” Kara corrected. “She has a whole community of people who know and love her.”
And tolerate her
, she thought to herself. “She knows any one of us would roll up our sleeves and pitch in if needed.”

Nate grimaced. “That's what family is for, though, right?”

“She understands you're busy in Boston with—”

“My fancy job and my fancy car and my fancy apartment.” Nate gave her a long look, his mouth set in a grim line. “I know. But I haven't made the time to visit like I should have.”

Kara felt her heart speed up. “Do you intend to change that?” she dared to ask.

“I do,” Nate replied, and Kara felt a grin break out over her face. She hoped he kept to his word.

Clearing her throat, she broke his stare and got back to the purpose of her visit. “I have your cookies,” she said, handing him the order for tea. “And I brought you a thank-you gift, too,” she added, a little more hesitantly.

His expression turned puzzled. “A thank-you gift?”

She gave him a knowing look. “You never told me you could bake.”

A slow grin curved his mouth. “You never asked.”

So it was true. It had been Nate, all on his own, without help from his aunt or a mysterious guest. The thought of him working on her contest entry, while she lay in bed just one floor above sneezing and coughing, made her feel warm and fuzzy all over. So often she was alone—at work, in the kitchen, and upstairs in her apartment. She liked the image of him there, in her home, in her bakery. It was a feeling she could get used to.

“But gingerbread… it's not the easiest dough to work with. Especially when it involves patterns and precision.”

“My mom used to make gingerbread,” Nate explained with a casual shrug. “It's actually one of the only fond memories I have of Christmas.”

Kara frowned at this. “The
only
fond memory?” Her chest felt a little heavy when she considered the meaning behind his words.

“Pretty much.” Nate shrugged again. “Let's just say that Christmas was always a stressful time for my family. Still is for me.”

The holidays were stressful for most people, but something in the way his eyes had gone flat told her that Nate wasn't talking about the usual chaos that came with roasting turkeys and getting presents wrapped in time.

“Well, hopefully this Christmas is a little different,” she said hopefully. She wanted to think of Nate happy, enjoying the season the way so many others did. The way she did. It would be nice to share that with him, she realized.

“It is,” Nate said, giving her a slow grin. “So far, I might even say, it's one of the best Christmases I've ever had.”

Kara beamed at him, feeling her panic slip away. “Me too,” she said, holding his gaze. His honey-brown eyes were warm and flecked with green, and something unreadable passed through them. Something she almost thought matched her own secret feelings.

A car horn honked, and Kara jumped. It wasn't a sound you heard often in quiet Briar Creek, but based on Nate's lack of reaction, it was something he was all too used to.

“Mrs. Lancaster's cab is here,” he said, his voice laced with regret as he began moving toward the stairs.

“I'll leave you to it, then,” Kara said. “I should get back to the bakery anyway.” She turned, feeling the same twinge of disappointment that came every time she said goodbye to him. The days to Christmas were dwindling, and today's visit had come and gone far too quickly.

“Wait.” His voice was thick and insistent, and with a flicker of her pulse, she looked back at him. “What time do you close for the day?”

She swallowed against the pounding of her heart, not even daring to think of why he might be asking or what he could be suggesting. “Four,” she said as casually as she could manage. “Why?”

“I was planning on stopping by the toy store today to buy some gifts for the toy drive. If you're free, maybe you could help me pick out a few things for the girls? I have to admit, my knowledge of children stems solely from my own life experience.”

Kara thought of the hundred and ten things she had to do before she went to bed that night and tossed them all aside. “I'd love to,” she said.

Nate couldn't remember the last time he'd actually gone shopping. Typically, he limited the experience to online purchases only, something that could be done with a click of a button in between meetings or while he was listening to a conference call. But there was something more personal about picking out a gift in person, and as he reached for the toy car set and set it in his basket, he could almost imagine the child who would receive it.

“Can I ask you a question?” He walked a little closer to Kara, who was studying the back of a board game box with fixed concentration. Hints of sugar and cinnamon and sweetness filled the air as he approached, and he stood as close to her body as he could without it getting awkward. Luckily the toy store was cramped, packed to the ceiling with every kid's delight, making the gesture a little less noticeable than it might have been somewhere else.

“Hmm?” Kara slid her blue eyes to him, distracted.

“How do you structure the donations for the families? Do they pick up their items, or does someone deliver them?”

Kara set the game in her basket. “Each family stops by the Hope Center on Christmas Eve. Why do you ask?”

Nate looked away and tried to focus on some action figure set high on a shelf. “No reason.” Eager to shift his thoughts away from the growing dread of memories he'd rather forget, he nudged her with his elbow. “Do girls really like these dolls that eat and drink and—”

She laughed. “They do. At least I did. I had one of those dolls when I was little. I suppose it was good practice for whenever I have kids.”

He frowned, imagining her with some guy, a couple kids in tow. He didn't like it. Didn't like the thought of another man in her life. Someone who lived with that soft laugh, eating her delicious treats, living a cozy little life in this cozy little town.

“Hungry?” he asked as they walked to the counter. He reached for his wallet, holding up a hand when she began to protest, and paid for the items in both of their baskets.

“At least let me give you a donation receipt for your taxes,” she said.

Nate shrugged. It wouldn't matter. He had enough money to buy the toys. Enough money to buy most things he wanted in life, not just needed. He'd made damn sure of it. And he'd continue to do so, too. It was what he'd come to live for. Not the act of working, not even the business itself, which could be interesting but was hardly his passion. It was the thrill that never tired with each paycheck. The relief that settled in when he checked his bank account.

He'd told himself when he made a certain amount, he could relax. But then he found a way to worry it would run out, so he raised the bar a little higher. Would it ever be enough to undo the worry that plagued him, the knot in his stomach whenever he thought of the dark time in his life, the sad days, the look in his parents' eyes? He wasn't sure. He kept reaching and reaching. Maybe he was reaching for the impossible.

“You didn't answer my question,” he said, nudging her arm as the girl set the toys in red paper bags.

“Considering the only thing I've had to eat today were nine cookies and your aunt's peppermint scone, yes. Very hungry.”

“Why don't we try your cousin's place, Rosemary and Thyme?” He held his breath, knowing this was more than a friendly dinner invitation. Any question he had that she knew it, too, disappeared when he saw the pink rise in her cheeks.

“That would be nice,” she said with a slow smile. “We'll drop these off on our way.”

The dance studio was a few blocks off Main Street, disguised in a renovated barn. Inside, the space was fully modernized, with skylights in the lobby and studios through glass doors. A fresh bouquet of pink flowers was centered on the coffee table, where women read magazines while behind the doors music swelled and girls in tutus twirled across the floor.

“Let's leave them back here,” Kara instructed, motioning for him to follow her down a hallway and into a crowded storage room. “Mind the glitter…” She smiled over her shoulder as she wove her way through gold and pink and red costumes. Lace and sequins and satin in every color and fabric brushed his coat as he wound his way through the stuffed racks to a clear spot at the back of the room.

“There are already some toys here,” he said, setting the bags on a bench.

Kara nodded. “My friend Jane brought some over. She has a little girl, and they went through some of her unused toys. She wanted to teach her that Christmas isn't just a time of receiving presents, but also for giving back.”

Nate thinned his lips. “Not every parent bothers with that lesson.”

“Sadly, no.” Kara sighed. “I think Sophie was excited to think of a little girl she's never met enjoying one of her toys and having a magical Christmas on her account.”