The Christmas Cookie House: A Sweet Holiday Romance (Christmas House Romances)

by Jennifer Griffith

  “Let’s do it this way, then.” Jay opened the silverware drawer and pulled out a spoon. He dipped it into the batter bowl, pulling out a small mound of dough, his eye sparking. “I’ll hold it right … here.” He held it out, but not too far.

  “Okay.” What was he trying to prove with this—this holding the spoon like it was a baited hook, but looking past it like he was ready to devour her instead of the dough?

  Leela had to bite her lower lip to keep her chemistry in check. She inched toward him as he pulled the spoon closer to himself. “It’s a moving target, and …?”

  “Mutual truth or dare here.” Jay took her hand, tugging her toward him. The spoon he held out to the side, halfway between their faces. “If in truth I’m a raw cookie dough eater, I’ll dare go for it. If you are, you will.”

  She stood practically toe to toe with him. Jay suspended the spoon between their mouths. His mouth inched toward the spoon, but she hung back, watching, their eyes flicking between each other’s gazes and the spoon. Tension spooled in her.

  He made another move. “If you want some, maybe you should beat me to it. If I’m a raw dough eater, I’ll take it all, you know.”

  “That is so not happening,” she whispered, and in a flash she went for the spoon.

  Jay went for it at the same time. Their lips met on the spoon, which only blocked their way for a split second. The second his lower lip brushed hers, their shoulders touched. She felt his body loosen, and he dropped the spoon. It clattered on the tile.

  Leela hardly heard it. Ginger and spice and sugar mingled in her senses. His mouth was a satin ribbon tied on the gift of his kiss. He cupped her chin and brushed a thumb across her cheek, while she dissolved in crystallized tingles of longing.

  His kiss swept her from the warm kitchen to the North Pole, with a full view of Santa’s workshop, where all the good surprises were being fashioned for future happiness. Jay Wilson’s kiss comprised her entire wish list, as he let it linger, tease, and dominate her every sense.

  “Wow,” she said coming up for breath. “You really know how to eat cookie dough.”

  “It’s because you really know how to make cookie dough I can’t resist.” He wore a glazed expression and spoke in a low, husky voice.

  “Is that so?” Her own voice had gone smoky.

  Jay proved it a few more times over the next minutes, with kiss after spicy-sweet kiss, her back against the kitchen counter and her soul hovering somewhere between the clouds that hung low and threatning and the new fallen snow.

  “Truth?” Jay pressed a kiss to each of her eyelids. He must still be playing that truth or dare game from earlier. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long, long time.”

  “A long time? But we just met.”

  “Seems like ages.”

  Yeah, it did feel that way. “Truth?” she asked. “When we first talked, I felt like I’d always known you.”

  “Maybe our moms’ wish had something to do with that.” He trailed a little line of kisses along her jaw line. “Yeah, I know it’s impossible. But stranger things have happened.”

  “Does this mean you’ll take me to the Holiday Ball?”

  “If you’ll kiss me like this when the clock strikes midnight.”

  “Guaranteed.”

  “I like our system of guarantees.” He placed another kiss on her lips that caused Leela to spin through dress after dress in her closet. The green velvet gown whispered, Jay will like this.

  Speaking of midnight, the clock in the living room struck a late hour. Any later, and Leela’s judgment would get impaired, especially if she was operating under the influence of Jay’s intoxicating kiss.

  “If I’m going to get up early and help you in the attic, we’d better say good night.”

  “You’ll come again tomorrow, then? Your family’s good will hasn’t run out yet?”

  “And the next day, and the next. If you want me, that is.”

  “Oh, I want you.” Jay’s eyes were half-closed. “I mean, to help me with the attic project.”

  Right. She knew what he meant because the blood in her veins raced in the same direction as his.

  “But what about the cookie dough?” he asked. “We haven’t baked it yet. We could put some in the oven, think of something to do while we wait for them to bake. Something productive.” He had a kiss-glint in his eye.

  “Tempting as that is, I’d better put it in the freezer for now. Then I can bake it fresh on the morning of the bake sale.” She still hadn’t told him the truth about the Cookie House. She had to, or he was going to see his address on the fliers all over town.

  Tomorrow. She’d tell him tomorrow. “I’ll see you at the crack of dawn.”

  Jay

  The next morning dawned much colder than those of his previous days in Massey Falls. And Jay was standing out in it, just to cool his irritation caused by this phone call.

  “Yeah, you do always call early, Rance. But it’s okay. I’m up.” Jay paced back and forth on the porch of the Layton Mansion to keep warm while he waited for Leela to appear. He’d fallen asleep last night with the memory of her in his arms, and he’d awakened cold to the reality that she didn’t await him at close proximity.

  How could he have fallen so far so fast for this girl?

  Because she fills my lonely spaces.

  And because she was beautiful, kind, and the first person he’d ever told about his mom’s life.

  Leela Miller could be the girl he’d been looking for. It was far, far too soon to know this—but it was like as a kid, when he’d known he was going to be a vet after the first time seeing a colt born during a difficult delivery. Both mare and colt nearly died, but the doctor had saved them with his quick thinking.

  In one short blast of experience, all other possible professions had fallen away from Jay’s possibility list.

  One short blast of experience with Leela, and any other woman he’d ever known wafted away like so much mist.

  And so he knew. He did. Truth. Admitting it was like taking a dare.

  His breath steamed here on the porch. “I am glad to hear you have other offers for the practice. No, I’m not going to have the money any sooner than I said.” Why were Foster & Cody pressuring him so much? What was the rush?

  “Yes, I appreciate that you’re holding the spot for me.” Naturally, they had to, as it was in their signed contract for the option. “I have to go.” Leela’s car had pulled up to the curb. “No, I’m not trying to delay. Your clients are trying to accelerate the process. That is a totally different thing.” His teeth had turned to chalk, and the sun wasn’t even up yet. “Yes, I know the price. I’ll have it by the third Tuesday. I promise.”

  Promise! How had he dared promise? No actual offer for sale had come in. He hadn’t even put the house on the market officially—because he wasn’t even done with the attic yet. Burt’s ethereal cash offer people might just be hype, for all Jay knew.

  “Hey, there.” Leela carried two cups on a tray and what looked like a gift bag. Hearing her voice, Jay’s irritation at Rance the broker drained away. “I hope you like cinnamon rolls.”

  “Did you bake them?”

  “Heck, no! These are from the coffee shop. They go well with hot cocoa. You skipped breakfast, I’ll bet.”

  “You’d win that bet. Come on inside.” A gust of air from the opening door hit the fireplace, and it crackled. Lit only by the orange glow of the blaze, the room was dim, warm, and inviting.

  “You lit a fire again.” She rushed toward the hearth and turned to face him, her eyes bright as ever. “This room was made for firelight.”

  Yeah, well, she’d been the one who lit a fire.

  “I thought it needed some seating.” He gestured for her to join him on a loveseat. “I found it in the shed out back and dragged it in.” The firewood pile was stacked against the shed, and he’d peered in the window and seen the couch. “Just in case you want to warm yourself before we start upstairs.”

  Or
in case she wanted to cozy up beside him a while until the attic warmed up.

  “This was in the shed?” Leela handed him the tray and sack while she slipped out of her coat. She was wearing one of those curve-highlighting sweaters again. He had to clench his teeth to keep his jaw from hanging slack.

  “The shed? Yeah, there seems to be a lot of stuff out there.”

  “Do we have to clear that out as well? Or did your Uncle Jingo only care about the attic?”

  “Thankfully, the attic was his sole stipulation.”

  Here she sat by him, filling up all his senses with her cinnamon and chocolate—and her touch. Oh, the suppleness of her body beside his. He could get very used to it.

  “It’s just like I dreamed as a girl.” Reflected firelight danced across her skin. She nestled under his arm and they sipped their cocoa. Her stockinged feet rested on top of his. Everything was warm. “Big tree over there, fire over here, a piano, a big dog curled up on the rug in front of the grate. And the kids all sliding down the banister.”

  He could see it. He didn’t even have to close his eyes. The vision of it unfolded in vivid detail: kids laughing and bickering about whose turn it was, badly played carols on the piano, the smell of the pine from the tree.

  “You imagined all of that as a girl?”

  “Girls have good imaginations.”

  Or maybe girls had the gift of prophecy. Like both their moms had attempted in that compact they’d written.

  If I decided differently. If instead I stayed …

  No. Nope. He was selling the Layton Mansion. He was getting his job. He’d planned his work, and now he was working his plan.

  For heaven’s sake, he’d just made a verbal promise to deliver the asking price to Foster & Cody not fifteen minutes ago.

  Even if it meant he wasn’t going to see his children sliding down that newly sanded, stained, and varnished banister. Or if it meant he wasn’t going to let a dog curl up on the rug beside the flame or listen to carols and laughter alongside a gorgeous girl with a heart of gold. He was committed. He would sell this place and use the money to buy a partnership in Precious Companion.

  Leela rested her head against his chest.

  Precious Companion. It didn’t sound nearly as precious in that moment.

  ∞∞∞

  Halfway through their day in the attic, Leela’s phone started blowing up with texts.

  Jay set down his box of tarnished silver candlesticks. “What’s going on? Is your dad okay?” He shouldn’t be keeping her here day after day. It was utterly selfish, and he knew it. But he wanted her, and she’d reassured him that Mr. Miller was being well cared for by yet another cousin. Christmastime service, willingly given, she’d said. “Do you need to go? I can come with you to check on him.”

  Leela put her phone back in her pocket. “Oh, no. Yeah. He’s fine. I just have a ton of cousins in general. There’s always some kind of group text attacking all our phones.” She dusted off a top of a box. “Hey, actually”—she held out her screen to him—“check this out. It’s right within your area of expertise. They’re from Pippa, mostly. She’s the one who married Dr. Harrison’s son.”

  The phone screen told a veterinarian’s worst nightmare: a horse with broken leg.

  New texts popped in from Leela’s cousin Pippa.

  And now, Chub says his dad isn’t sure Rose Red is going to make it.

  Rose Red! “The prize-winning thoroughbred?” he asked, and Leela nodded gravely.

  It’s too much pressure for Chub’s dad. He’s telling Bing Whitmore to take Rose Red to Reedsville, but with the snow, it’s a basically guaranteed loss. Bing lost Snow White last summer. If he loses Rose Red, I don’t know what will happen to the stables.

  “What do you think, Jay? Is there any chance?”

  “I haven’t seen the injury, obviously, but the demands on a performance horse make fractures really common. I doubt the horse’s career can be saved.” Jay had to tell the truth. “Its life may even be in question. A lot of owners would put it down.”

  “Its life!” Leela took the phone back. “I didn’t realize its life was on the line!” The way her whole body tensed, Jay knew this horse she’d never even seen in person suddenly mattered very much to her.

  “If you like, I can go over there. Offer to help.”

  “Would you? Oh, Jay! Please?”

  “Um …” It wasn’t any of his business, but how could he deny her anything when she looked at him with those blue eyes brimming? “Can you check with your cousin to find out if my offer would be welcome?”

  ∞∞∞

  “It’s a compound break.” In the chilly air of Whitmore Thoroughbred’s stables, Dr. Harrison pointed to the obvious break on Rose Red’s leg for Jay to examine. Yeah, severe and complex. “It’s such a shame.”

  The air in the stables smelled like straw, feed, and leather—nature’s most perfect blend of scents. Jay inhaled deeply, not even minding the added horse manure mixed in, to clear his mind to think. Crazy as it might sound to anyone else, the smells around animals were half the reason he’d wanted to become a vet.

  However, a situation like this was half the reason he’d dreaded becoming one. No one wanted to lose a beloved animal. Especially not one worth an enormous investment.

  “So, there’s nothing you can do?” Bing Whitmore put his head in his hands. The guy was a lot younger than Jay had anticipated. In Jay’s experience, thoroughbred owners were usually middle-aged guys who drove Jaguars and drank wines of good vintage. This guy was no older than Jay—and he looked as broken about the possible loss of this horse as Rose Red’s broken leg. “Nothing at all?”

  Dr. Harrison shook his head. “You were wise not to let her walk on it, but it might not be enough precaution. I can splint with boards and PVC pipe, but if she walks again, she’ll put too much weight on it. She’d have to more or less be in traction until it heals. That’s no good for her.”

  Jay was nothing but an interloper here, at Leela’s request. He shouldn’t speak up. But then Leela pulled on his coat sleeve. “Please, Jay? Can’t you help Bing? Isn’t there some way to save Rose Red?”

  “There could be a way,” he whispered. But how could he make a suggestion and not sound like some young upstart meddler? Dr. Harrison knew his business. Jay shouldn’t butt in. “It’s a long shot.”

  “Then tell Dr. Harrison. Tell Bing Whitmore.” Leela’s voice pitched upward. “A life is at stake here.”

  Jay cleared his throat. “While I was in vet school, I was given a chance to assist in a surgery where a horse had a break similar to this.”

  “You were?” Bing lifted his head from his hands. “Dr. Harrison—who is this guy?”

  “Just met him. New veterinary graduate. He’s got roots here, but he’s taking a job over in Reedsville. Small animal.”

  “Oh. Small animal.” Bing visibly deflated. “I guess equine surgery isn’t your wheelhouse.” He collapsed against the rails of the stall again.

  “I have experience in both. It’s limited, mind you.” Extremely. Which about killed him right now. “But the vet I assisted used metal screws inserted both above and below a similar fracture to Rose Red’s in order to save the horse’s leg.”

  And life, he could have added.

  Leela let out a soft cry, which she muffled by shoving her hand across her mouth.

  “I don’t have a full surgical setup, I’m afraid.” Dr. Harrison shook his head. “Anesthesia, some, and a basic kit, but that’s it.”

  “This veterinary surgeon performed the operation in the field, actually.” Yeah, it sounded insane. Jay had thought so at the time, too. Complex surgeries should be done in sterile environments with controlled, well, everything. “The pins had to be extremely strong to hold the horse’s weight, and that required drilling.”

  “Drilling!” Leela gasped. “With a drill?”

  “I have a drill in the shop.” Bing’s voice was a thread. This mattered to him, and it was starting to mat
ter more and more to Jay.

  The shop drill would do in a pinch. As would the supply of anesthetics Dr. Harrison had in his kit.

  “But how were the results?” Bing asked.

  “The horse wasn’t perfect, but it lived.”

  “It was lame.” Dr. Harrison didn’t sound convinced. He turned to Bing. “A lame horse …”

  “Is a live horse,” Bing said firmly and stepped toward Jay. “Could you repeat the surgery? Is it possible?”

  “I was only assisting. And you must realize that even if the surgery is effective, bone density will be lost, and the leg will be prone to re-fracture.”

  Bing pressed his hands together, and then he ran his fingers through his hair. “Here’s how I see it. You don’t try, and we have to put Rose Red down. You do try, and we might save her. If there’s even a small chance of that, it’s not even a discussion.”

  Jay turned to Dr. Harrison, not sure whether to ask permission or to override the older man’s authority here. But Dr. Harrison’s white swirl of hair bobbed a go-ahead.

  “You can use my surgical tools from the truck. Let’s get started right away.”

  Leela

  Another cold, dust-filled day passed in the attic with Jay, now known to her and the Whitmores as the savior of a famous horse’s life. Jay had done it. With Dr. Harrison’s help, of course—lots of it. Bing Whitmore had performed a nurse’s duties of handing the surgeons items while Leela had prayed.

  In the end, Rose Red’s leg was set, and she might make it. If she didn’t, at least they’d given everything they could in the moment.

  When the last stitch was tied, Bing had hugged Jay. Thanks, brother. We love this horse.

  Jay had taken Leela home. She’d kissed her hero tenderly, just like he’d treated Rose Red in her time of pain.

  Tenderly.

  And now, here they were in the attic again, another day turned to nighttime.

  Today, Leela was practically hoarse from laughing and talking so much. They’d even done a karaoke sing-off of their favorite Christmas carols for half the afternoon. Holy wassails, Batman! That guy knew a never-ending list of carols. She’d run out of songs long before Jay had.