Tasting Her Christmas Cookies: A Holiday Romantic Comedy

by Alina Jacobs

  “If you scratch it, I'll—” he searched for an appropriate thing to say that didn't sound crazy.

  “If I scratch it, I'll let you not only come down my chimney but all over my face any time you like!” I promised.

  “Okay, maybe you can scratch the car a little bit, then,” he said with a slight smile.

  I laughed and took the keys then practically melted in the luxurious seat.

  “Yum. I would ask if you ever had sex in this car, but it's actually not as roomy as you would think.”

  “I have not,” Owen said tensely.

  I started the car. It purred. “Better than a vibrator.”

  I pulled out of the parking space then slammed on the brake and made a car crunch noise with my mouth. Owen cursed and gripped the armrest. I laughed.

  “Relax, I'm just messing with you,” I said, pulling out of the garage.

  62

  Owen

  Holly wasn't a bad driver necessarily; she was aggressive, though. Whereas I like to keep several car lengths between me and the next car, Holly was right up on the bumper of the car in front of us.

  “I can't believe how great these brakes are!” she remarked as she mashed the pedal for the umpteenth time, stopping about an inch before the car in front of us. The car moved, and in a flash, she pulled out in front of another car, zipping through traffic.

  “I need a drink,” I muttered.

  “Don't these fancy cars come with special hidden alcohol compartments?” Holly asked, making a hard left turn at a yellow light then pulling up with a screech and zooming back to parallel park in front of the boutique.

  I sat there for a moment in a daze.

  “Ha!” Holly said, looking at her phone. “Google Maps said it would take us thirty minutes, but I got us here in ten.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Frost,” the boutique manager said when we walked in. She took one look at my face and handed me a scotch.

  “We're looking for a dress for a black-tie holiday party. And shoes,” Holly said.

  “She probably needs some sort of wrap and a purse,” I added, the drink calming my nerves after that drive.

  “You mean I can't take my bedazzled snowflake purse to the fancy black-tie holiday party?” Holly asked with a laugh.

  The saleswoman walked Holly around the boutique while another associate brought out several dresses.

  “These just came in,” she said, hanging the dresses up.

  “This is pretty,” Holly said, inspecting a shimmery black, off-the-shoulder dress with layers of ruffles around the hem.

  “This trumpet silhouette will look great on a curvy figure,” the saleswoman said. “I know your boyfriend will be happy about that too.”

  I felt a rush of satisfaction at hearing them refer to me as Holly's boyfriend.

  “I guess I'll try it on,” Holly said.

  “This fits pretty well,” Holly said, coming out of the dressing room. I was a little surprised. As much as I loved Holly in the fun costumes, in this dress, she looked elegant and chic.

  “Maybe wear your hair in a messy side bun?” the saleswoman suggested, holding up Holly’s hair.

  “You need shoes,” another sales associate said, coming over with several choices.

  “Black seems a little boring,” Holly said, inspecting the shoes. Then she spied a pair of sparkly red, strappy stilettoes with huge bows to tie them around the ankles. Dangling diamond-and-ruby clasps sparkled. I saw Holly's eyes go wide.

  “They have rubies on them,” the salesclerk coaxed, holding them up.

  “Seriously? Get out. I can't wear those.”

  She liked them, though.

  “Buy them if you like them.”

  “It's not too gauche for your holiday party?” she asked me.

  “You can't be too conservative,” I told her. “It is Christmas after all.”

  “They look nice with the outfit,” she said, slipping them on and tying the big red ribbons.

  “Maybe some jewelry,” I prompted the sales associate. Holly started to protest.

  “You can't have a neckline like that without a nice choker at least,” the associate said.

  The store manager came back with an elaborate gold, ruby, diamond, emerald, and pearl necklace. “This would be perfect.”

  “It has some serious Nutcracker vibes,” Holly said.

  “Is that a good thing?” I asked.

  “Of course! Nutcracker anything is a good thing.”

  “It does have a bit of a Russian-Austrian flavor,” I said, studying it.

  The store manager draped it around her throat then added the matching earrings.

  “I don't know, it looks kind of pricy,” Holly said nervously.

  “It looks nice with the dress,” I assured her. “Besides, you can't come to the holiday party wearing some sort of plastic snowman necklace. There will be a large number of billionaires there with their wives and girlfriends. We can't have them all looking down at you and at me for not providing you something nice to wear.”

  “If you put it that way.” She chewed on her lip.

  “It's your early Christmas present.”

  “I guess.” She said, wrinkling her nose.

  Another saleswoman came over with a white and silver fur wrap. “It's going to be cold, so you might want this as well.”

  “It's so soft!” Holly breathed.

  “You look fantastic,” I told her. I wanted nothing more than to take her out of that dress and show her how much she meant to me.

  While Holly changed out of the clothes, the saleswoman gestured me into a side room.

  “Why don't you see if there's anything in there that piques your interest?” It was a whole room full of lingerie.

  “There are even some holiday-themed items,” she said. The saleswoman showed me a piece that was mainly three little puffs of strategically placed white fur. The next option was several pieces of white lace with a subtle snowflake pattern. It came with a matching corset and garters. I wholeheartedly approved.

  “Shall we wrap it?” the saleswoman asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Also,” she added in a conspiratorial whisper as she carefully took down the delicate lace, “we do have a nice selection of unique engagement rings. We partner with local jewelers who source ethical stones. Never too early to start thinking about it!”

  Holly seemed happy when she bounced up to the desk while I was checking out.

  “Thank you very much for your patronage, Mr. Frost,” the manager said. She handed me the receipt, but not before Holly saw it.

  She made a sound like a dying snowman. “I, um, you should probably put that back.”

  “They don't give refunds,” I told her as I picked up the bags with her purchases.

  “I really can't accept all of that. I didn't know it was going to be that much!” she said, horrified.

  Taking her arm, I led her out to the car.

  “It's way more than I spent on Christmas decorations for the whole lobby!” she said, looking up at me with wide eyes. “It's like an entire house.”

  I laughed. “Well, not in New York City, it's not.” I peered at Holly. “You look like you're about to faint. So I guess I’m driving.”

  “I guess,” Holly said.

  I opened the trunk.

  “Don't put that back there,” she said. “Someone could steal it!”

  “How—”

  “I don't know, maybe there's a Christmas caper on the loose, or you could have people watching you…”

  She trailed off, peering into the distance. Then she snatched the bag out of my hands and pushed me to the car.

  “The party's starting in a few hours. I have to do my hair and shower.”

  63

  Holly

  I couldn't believe Amber! She was there in the doorway of a nearby shop, dressed as an elf with a camera. She was totally stalking Owen or maybe me or maybe both of us.

  I stewed as Owen drove us back to his tower in silence
. This was my entire life—whenever anything good happened to me, Amber always found some way to ruin it. She was constantly in competition with me for every little thing. Now Owen was caught in her craziness.

  “I'm sure they would take it back if you really don't want it,” he said when he pulled into the garage.

  “What? Oh, the clothes and jewelry and shoes. No, thank you.” I leaned over and kissed him. “It was very generous of you.”

  He studied me carefully.

  I grinned. “We just need to find you a red tux with a Christmas-themed bow tie so you can look half as awesome as me!”

  When I dressed—after a few hours of answering fan messages on social media—I looked way better than I ever had before. I did a sexy, smoky eye, and my hair was even cooperating. Instead of frizz, I'd been able to tame it into loose ringlets and pin it into a messy bun with little tendrils framing my face.

  The black dress looked amazing. It was mermaid shaped and accentuated my curves in a good way. My mother had always told me I needed to stick to A-lines and leave the more fitted dresses to girls with Amber’s shape, but dammit if I didn't look good. The ruffles at the hem of the dress weren’t too over the top, and they ended in an ever-so-slight train. The off-the-shoulder straps gave the dress a retro vibe. I slipped the red shoes on, fastening the ruby-and-diamond clasps, then I put on the necklace and the earrings. I glittered like a Christmas tree, but a nice, high-end tree.

  Owen was waiting downstairs for me. His bespoke tux accented his broad shoulders and chest, which tapered to a narrow waist and very firm behind. He slipped the fur cape around my shoulders.

  “Do I look good enough to rub elbows with billionaires?” I asked him.

  “None of them better rub anything of yours,” he snarled.

  Waiting outside in front of the tower was an SUV limousine. Owen helped me inside then pressed a button. A hidden bar rose up, displaying chilled champagne and crystal flutes.

  “Drink?”

  “Yes, please!”

  He popped the cork and poured us each a glass of bubbling golden champagne.

  I took a long sip. “This is delicious. Probably shouldn’t overdo it, though. I don’t want to make any inappropriate comments in front of all your billionaire pals.”

  “I think a fair number of the Svenssons will be there,” Owen said with a slight frown. “Archer will definitely be there, so inappropriate comments will be made.”

  “Better him than me!”

  The black-tie party for the TechBiz announcement was being held in one of Archer Svensson’s hotels. I gaped out the window as the limo pulled up in front of it. The historic limestone building had been decorated for Christmas in Victorian fashion, with candles in the windows.

  “Do not trip over this dress,” I ordered myself as Owen and I walked up a grand staircase to the ballroom. It was packed with well-dressed people; the women wore couture, and the men wore tuxes. The whole place was decorated like a Cinderella movie if it had been set during Christmas: a huge tree, chandeliers, miles of garland. A jazz band was playing retro Christmas songs on a low stage.

  “You can tell who the tech billionaires are,” Owen whispered in my ear, “because they look like they found their suits in a dumpster.”

  I giggled. “You’re a tech billionaire! Did you ever dress like that?”

  “Never.”

  I snorted.

  “Okay, maybe when I first started out, but my sister, Belle, didn’t let that go on for very long,” he said. He snagged two red cocktails with green garnish from a tray and handed one to me.

  “Belle and I should be best friends,” I said. A passing server offered me a lobster croquette. “You definitely have a body worthy of a tailored tux.”

  I had just stuffed another of the croquettes into my mouth when Penny waved to me, her boyfriend, Garrett Svensson, on her arm.

  “I love your shoes!” Penny gushed, hugging me. “Also, I don’t know what you’re doing after the bake-off, but you totally need to produce more pieces for the Vanity Rag. Everyone loves you!”

  “You know what?” I said, snapping my fingers. “I was thinking of this sex-and-baking series, kind of like what Cosmo does but better.”

  Penny jumped up and down. “Maybe when celebrities come to be photographed for the cover, some of them could do drunk baking or something!”

  “Sex baking?” Owen asked with a scowl.

  “You should be a little more open-minded,” Garrett replied. The two men stared mulishly at each other. Then they both looked out into the distance like two cats who refused to acknowledge the other’s existence any longer.

  Penny giggled. “Garrett didn’t want to be here. He hates parties.”

  “I do not hate parties. I find them mildly intolerable.”

  “Owen likes parties.” I squeezed his arm.

  “I’m here because I want to find out the rankings,” he said with a shrug.

  “You better beat the Holbrooks,” Garrett warned. “Greg and Hunter came here specifically to see them beaten. And both of my brothers are insufferable when they don't get what they want. And speaking of annoying people…”

  “Hey, Archer,” Owen said, shaking his hand.

  Archer kissed my cheek then Penny's. “Ladies. Everyone's dressed to impress to watch Owen win. Especially me, because I’m tired of hearing about this stupid contest.” He had a plate piled high with hors d’oeuvres.

  “Where did you get one of those?” I said. “I want a huge plate of snacks!”

  The woman next to him giggled.

  “Hazel, this is Holly. Holly, this is Hazel, my fiancée and also a baker. Wait, isn’t that a Christmas song? Garrett, help me out here. You're the freak show with the good memory.”

  “It’s ‘The Holly and the Ivy,’” I said, laughing. “Not the Holly and the Hazel.”

  “Well actually, maybe you two could call your new food sex line the Holly and the Hazel. Has a nice sort of innuendo to it, right?” Archer said, taking a huge bite of a duck slider.

  “She’s not making a sex food line,” Owen stated.

  “It’s the twenty-first century, Owen,” Archer said, stuffing a cracker piled high with caviar and sour cream into his mouth. “Sexy food is big business. Why, I’ve been trying to convince Hazel to bottle her edible body paint for months!”

  “I’m not starting a sex food line,” she said, shoving him.

  “This is why I don’t go to parties,” Garrett complained. “Because there’s no escape from my family!”

  Speaking of no escape from family—across the room, I saw a woman who looked suspiciously like Amber. She half turned, and it was definitely her.

  “Just give me a second, Owen,” I said “Gotta use the little girls’ room.”

  He nodded, and I scuttled off, grabbed Amber by the upper arm, and dragged her to an alcove.

  “What are you doing here?” I hissed.

  “I have every right to be here,” she said, jerking her arm away.

  “Do you even have a ticket?” I fumed.

  “Do you?”

  “I’m a plus one.”

  “You slept your way to a ticket and all those clothes and nice jewelry!” she argued. “Don’t act like you’re better than me.”

  “You need to leave,” I said flatly. I refused to let her cause a scene. What would Owen think? He wouldn’t want to be around me anymore once he realized Amber was a permanent fixture in my life, I was sure of that.

  64

  Owen

  I had a couple surprises planned for Holly for after the party. Since she was currently occupied, I went to a side hallway to make a call and make sure everything was on schedule. That was when Sloane pounced.

  “Owen!” she exclaimed. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she pressed her mouth to mine, kissing me passionately. I tried to push her off, hoping no one saw. Sloane had her teeth sunk into my bottom lip and her hand shoved down my pants. It was a struggle trying to untangle her.

  Tears
pricked in her eyes as soon as I shoved her off me. “You don’t understand. I love you. We’re perfect together!”

  “I’m with Holly,” I asserted.

  “You can’t be serious,” she spat. “Holly is nothing. She’s homeless. She's failing as a baker. She has no career goals or aspirations. She’s just using you for your money.”

  “She does have goals,” I countered.

  “What, a sex food line?” Sloane sneered. “You and I belong together. I'm the type of woman a man like you should be with.” She must have realized she was sounding unhinged, because she calmed her features. “Darling Owen,” she said, sliding her hands back up my chest.

  “I’m not doing this anymore. You can keep spiraling into delusions with my mother, but stay away from me,” I warned.

  Holly looked slightly flustered when I found her again.

  “Everything all right?” I asked.

  “Fine!” she said. She grabbed a glass of champagne from a server and all but chugged it. “I think they're going to announce the rankings.”

  The search committee assembled on the stage. Sloane sauntered to the front of the group and looked straight at me. Evan Harrington, whose hedge fund owned TechBiz and Vanity Rag, approached the lectern and leaned over to smile into the microphone. “Merry Christmas! Thanks for coming out.”

  Now there was a man I felt sorry for. He was engaged to a woman possibly even crazier and nastier than Sloane. Apparently she had even made him sell all of his cars. Evan's situation was dire, and he wasn’t even married yet. No, I would much rather wake up to Holly every day. I leaned over and kissed her.

  She squeezed my hand. “I'm so nervous!”

  “It’s just a petty pissing contest between CEOs,” I whispered in her ear. “At the end of the day, it's not that important.”

  “You're talking to someone whose life goal is to win a Christmas bake-off. I live for petty contests.”

  Evan pulled a piece of paper out of a large envelope. “We have the rankings in. Please, before you all start calling your hitmen, remember I did not make any decisions,” Evan said, earning a laugh from the crowd.