I hopped up immediately, flipped the camera again, and took him right to the tree. I did a slow pan, up and down, and all the way around, pointing out my favorite ornaments as I went. “This one here, I bought at a craft fair. See how the globe catches the light? It’s gorgeous and I love it….oh! This one? This one I’ve had my entire life. My parents bought it for my first Christmas, and it’s been on my tree ever since.” I paused and touched the gingerbread man that had been inscribed with my name and my birth year. “Hmm, maybe that’s why I love gingerbread people so much.”
Jason made an amused, but thoughtful sound. “Perhaps.”
I cackled, loving the slight smirk on his face. “I came by it honestly, though. Look at this one.” I had to move around the tree until I found the one I wanted. The tin ornament’s paint had faded over the years, chipping in some places and nearly non-existent in others. It was the shape that really indicated it was a gingerbread man with a bow tie around his neck. I reverently touched it with one finger. “This was my mom’s favorite. It always had a place of pride on the tree.”
Jason cleared his throat, then gave a sniff. I dragged my attention away from the ornament to his face. He was intently staring at me.
“That’s really nice. I’m glad you have that. I’m sorry you lost your parents.”
“Thank you. It’s…” I had to take a second to sort out my feelings and think of what I wanted to say. “Christmas was a big deal growing up, both my parents loved it and it was the one time we, without fail, had time together. Because of school break for me, and the plant where my dad worked closed for the week, and it was just…it was just really special.”
Jason made an encouraging noise, so I continued.
“So, you know, at first it was hard to celebrate. Especially after my dad was killed. But it also helps me remember them and honor them and…I don’t know. Now I feel close to them during the holiday season.” I shook my head and gave a rueful grin. “But I just love the whole season. I love the decorations and the joy and the cheer and the charity and hope and joy.’
Jason laughed. “You said joy twice.”
“Well, it deserves to be mentioned twice.” I chuckled. “But honestly, I just love the whole thing.”
“I can tell.” Jason’s eyes twinkled, which I didn’t think was possible for brown eyes, but he somehow managed it. “Take me on a tour, show me everything.”
So I did. I spent a little more time at the tree, pointing out a few more ornaments, then walked through the rest of the place, showing off every decoration and telling stories for the ones that had them. Jason listened patiently, laughing at the appropriate places, a smile playing on his lips the whole time. I camped it up, really getting into it, loving his reactions. He was a very good audience.
Eventually, I made it into the kitchen, showed off my dishes, then made a big deal of placing one of the gingerbread rolls on a plate. I sighed happily, then propped up the phone and flipped back the camera.
“There you are,” Jason said, and the light or something made it look as though there was heat in his eyes. My face warmed but I pretended it hadn’t. Jason did, too, because he gestured with his chin to the roll in front of me. “You gonna eat that?”
I pursed my lips as though thinking about it. “I should eat dinner first. Save it for after.”
Jason’s eyes crinkled, though he was trying to keep the smile off his face. “Go for it. It’s the holidays and it’s your special treat.”
I didn’t need any more persuading. I broke off a chunk, toasted the screen with it, then popped it in my mouth. I made an incredibly inappropriate sound as I chewed, it was that good, but startled and froze when Jason dropped his phone.
“Sorry,” he hastily apologized as he fumbled it upright. “Sorry about that.”
I quirked an eyebrow and tucked what was left of my bite in my cheek. “You okay over there?”
“Yup. Yes. Good.”
I snickered. “So is this gingerbread roll. The café should put this on their menu permanently. This is delicious.”
“It sounds like it.”
“I’d have shared with you if you were here.”
Jason blinked, then smiled. “Thanks. Uh, do you have plans for tomorrow?”
I took another bite, shook my head, and did my best to keep any untoward noises to myself. When I swallowed, I answered with words. “Nope, just me and my Christmas movies. Well, I have to log in to work at some point just to double-check no disasters have happened. But my plan is to binge-watch everything curled up with Pippa.” I did a little wiggle of happiness just thinking about it. “On Christmas Day, though, I’m going to Scott and Amy’s. They’re doing the whole family thing and have invited me over. How about you? Any plans?”
“That’s great. Hey, listen. Cody, I’m really glad you shared this with me. It meant a lot to me. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
“Oh.” I was taken aback by this abrupt dismissal and the fact that he hadn’t answered my question, but tried to keep a happy face. “Yeah, of course. Have a good night.”
“You, too. Bye.” And he stared at me for a long second before reaching out to end the call.
I sat in stunned silence for a long moment, trying to figure out what had just happened. I could only surmise that I’d made Jason uncomfortable somehow, and instead of calling it out or saying something, he’d just ended the conversation. I hoped it wasn’t the noise I’d made, because I couldn’t help it and hadn’t meant anything by it. I scratched my chin and wondered if I should text him and apologize, or at least ask if I’d done something, but then decided against it.
I didn’t want to push or make things worse, especially when we’d begun building a friendship. So I told myself I’d leave it for now, and if it didn’t blow over or it seemed to come between us, then I’d deal with it later.
But somehow, my roll didn’t taste quite as good anymore.
Chapter 4
The Christmas movie marathon, interrupted by walks for Pippa, kept my mind off Jason’s weird goodbye the evening before. I texted him a “good morning,” which he replied to, but neither of us said anything else. I knew he had to work half a day because it had been mentioned in the group thread days before, so I didn’t want to bother him while he was busy.
I was just relieved he’d responded at all.
Movie after movie, I lost myself in the holiday spirit, even as I kept one eye on the clock. Because after three days, I was expecting a delivery today. I tried to tell myself not to, that I wasn’t entitled to anything at all, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted that delivery. I wanted to see what my holiday treat fairy had in store for me today.
Since yesterday’s delivery had been later, I wasn’t even concerned about the lack of delivery until the sun started to set. It was after four, and nothing had appeared. Untangling myself from the nest of blankets I’d created was a chore, but I managed, then got up and wandered to the front door. I peeked out the window but there was nothing but silent, snow-covered street.
It seemed too late to be getting a delivery now, and my heart sank. It dropped even further when I pulled up the website for Pounds and Grounds and saw that they’d closed at noon today and had stopped deliveries then. I’d been waiting for hours for nothing. It was silly that I felt like crying. I sat heavily on the couch, and picked up my phone.
Cody: No baked treat today. I shouldn’t feel sad and disappointed, but I do.
It took Jason more than ten minutes to respond. I’d just given up that he would when his chime sounded.
Jason: I’m sorry to hear that.
It wasn’t the most encouraging response, but I wasn’t about to let it go at that. It was important to me that we talked this out. We’d begun a deeper friendship that I wasn’t willing to let go. Unless he flat out asked me to leave him alone, or said he didn’t want to be closer friends or something, then I was going to try to fix this between us.
Cody: Did I do something yesterday that upset you? Made you ang
ry? If I did, I’m sorry. Can you talk to me about it so we can fix it? I thought we were becoming closer and I don’t want to lose that.
A few seconds later, the reply came through.
Jason: No.
My stomach sank to the floor, and I actually got nauseous for a second. I wracked my brain, trying to figure out what I’d done to make him just dismiss me completely and not even want to talk to me. My brain spun, and the harder I thought, the more my stomach hurt. But then, before I could work myself up too much, another text came through.
Jason: Wait dam it hold on I’m driving stupid car
Relief flooded through me so fast, I got lightheaded for a moment. He was clearly using his hands-free, voice-to-text through his car, and I knew firsthand how that could do things a person didn’t intend. I’d once tried to send Rick a rant about idiot drivers while I’d been driving and it accidentally sent to one of my coworkers Richard instead. So I waited, somewhat impatiently, for Jason to text again.
Jason: sorry about that. I’ve pulled over. I meant no you didn’t upset me or anything like that. It’s been a day.
Cody: Oh good. I was worried.
Jason: Don’t be. I’m sorry.
Jason: And I’m sorry you were looking forward to a delivery today and didn’t get one.
Cody: I shouldn’t feel so entitled *sigh* but it really made my days bright. It was an extra holiday surprise and it was nice. Made me feel special.
Jason: You are special. Will you hold on for a few minutes? I’ve gotta take care of something real quick.
Cody: Sure.
I started a new movie—Muppet Christmas Carol, because it was one of my absolute favorites—and tried to focus on that instead of waiting for Jason to text again. It took a little, but eventually I got lost in the story, singing along in my horrible off-key voice and quoting my favorite lines. Kermit, as Bob Cratchit, had just finished singing about how there was only one more sleep ‘til Christmas when Pippa bounded off the couch and ran for the door.
I followed behind her, confused at who could be here, when I caught sight of a familiar dark head through the window. I picked up the pace and opened the door. Jason smiled with his eyes, his mask covering the lower part of his face, and stomped snow off his boots. Pippa pushed her face into the reusable grocery bag he was carrying, and we both ignored her to stare at each other.
“Can I come in?” he asked softly after a moment.
“Oh! Of course, yes. Pips, go lay down.” She ignored me, which she hardly ever did, so I grabbed her collar and gave her a gentle tug. She backed up, but kept her body between me and Jason. She was on alert, but not being overly protective. She’d met Jason before, but it had been a long while ago.
Jason stepped into the small hall, set down the bag, and pulled off his gloves. After shoving them into one pocket of his navy wool pea coat, he held out a hand, loose and relaxed, for Pippa to scent. She did with great enthusiasm, then gave me the side-eye.
“He’s a friend, Pippa girl.” It was the permission she needed, and she pushed her head into his hand for scratches. Jason obliged, and I let them have a minute before I nudged her with my knee. “All right, baby girl. Go lay down.”
This time, she obeyed, but even as she climbed onto the couch, she kept her eyes on me. She really was the best dog in the world. I made a cooing noise, which made Pippa huff as though she thought I was ridiculous. Laughing, I turned my attention back to Jason.
“It’s nice to see you. But what are you doing here?” And then realizing my lack of manners, I held out a hand. “Here. Let me take your coat.”
Jason unbuttoned it, then shrugged it off. I hung it on the pegs along the wall, and when I turned around, Jason was bent over and unlacing his boots, his ass on perfect display. I wanted to run my hands over the denim, but I stopped myself in the nick of time. Damn but he had a good ass. I was sad when he straightened enough to toe off the boots and carefully place them on the mat. Then he grabbed the bag.
“I, uh, brought stuff to make gingerbread cookies. I thought we could, you know, make them.” He lifted his free hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “Just need a bowl and a cookie sheet.”
I fought back a chuckle, because I didn’t want him to think I was laughing at him. But he’s awkwardness was so dang cute. I squeezed his forearm, then quickly dropped my hand.
“That’s really sweet,” I said as I turned toward the kitchen. Then raised my voice a notch so he could hear me while I was facing the other way. “It was kind of you to try and cheer me up. I really shouldn’t be disappointed not to get something today. Let me get a mixing bowl.”
Jason mumbled something I couldn’t hear with my head buried in the cupboard. My mixing bowls were way in the back, in a bottom cupboard, because I didn’t use them that much. I straightened up and set the bowl on the counter. He was standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, clutching the bag in both hands. I didn’t know why he was nervous—maybe because this was the first time he’d been at my house—but I smiled to show him it was okay
“What was that?”
Jason took a long, deep breath. “You were never supposed to get a delivery today.”
I heard the words, but they didn’t make sense. “What?”
“This was always the plan. Send you goodies this week, then show up here to bake the final cookies with you.”
It took me longer than it should have to put the pieces together. And when I did, the bottom fell out of my world for a second.
“It was you the whole time.”
Chapter 5
I needed to process all this, because I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. Too many emotions were swirling around, and I had to take a moment to sort it all out. Part of me felt like I should have guessed; the rest of me knew there had been no clues. In order to get the time, I decided to distract him so I could actually think.
“Do you have a recipe?”
Jason stared at me, then blinked. “What?”
“A recipe. For the cookies. Do you have one or do we need to look one up?”
“Y-yes. I, uh, I have one. It’s supposed to be, um, yeah. A quick one? Yeah, a quicker one. It doesn’t need to sit in the refrigerator overnight or anything. So, um. Yes. Here.”
He finally walked forward and set his bag on the counter. Then he started unpacking it. He’d brought everything we needed, including a rolling pin and cookie cutters, and he laid it all out until he finally pulled the printed recipe from the bottom of the bag. He didn’t look at me as he did it, and studiously kept his gaze averted while he meticulously folded the bag and set it to the side.
Carefully, slowly, I laid my hand on his shoulder. He froze. I wasn’t even sure he was breathing. But he didn’t pull away.
“I’m not upset or anything. Just confused,” I murmured.
“Yeah? You sure?”
“I’m sure.” I couldn’t quite zero in on what I was feeling, but it definitely wasn’t anger or anything remotely like that. A little hurt, because we’d been talking about it for days, and he’d been my source of common sense through the whole thing. And it had been him all along, so it made sense he’d been confident in his assertion that the treats were safe and well-intentioned.
“Good. That’s good,” he whispered. He relaxed a little, but not completely. I patted his shoulder and moved my hand.
I fully intended to figure out exactly what was going on here, but first things first. “You can take your mask off.” He cut his gaze to me, and I smiled. “You get screened every day, and you wouldn’t be here if you thought there was even a chance you had COVID. Or the flu. Or even a cold. So I’m not worried.”
He nodded, carefully unhooked the ear straps, then pulled them so they broke and wouldn’t get tangled up around some poor animal if the little critter decided to go trash-diving. My stomach warmed at the action, because it showed he cared. He looked around, and I pointed to the cabinet under the sink where I stashed the trash can. He disposed of the paper mask, then
washed his hands.
I was mesmerized by his long, strong fingers as he methodically worked the suds in his hands, not missing a spot. When he finished, I kept staring as he dried them on the towel. It wasn’t until he was done that I realized I hadn’t taken my gaze off him, and I chuckled and picked up the recipe.
It seemed simple enough, and I set him to work washing and drying the new rolling pin, measuring cups, and cookie cutters while I opened the flour, sugar, and all the spices. It took only a few minutes and we were ready to start.
“I’m confused,” I admitted as I measured the flour. He made an inquisitive sound, so I shrugged one shoulder. “Why didn’t you sign the notes? Why did you keep it a secret? We talked about it every day.”
“I didn’t expect that,” he said after a minute. “I mean, I wasn’t surprised when you said something in the group, but then you started talking to just me and I…well, yeah. I didn’t expect that.”
“Well, you were the only one who was level-headed about it. Makes sense now, though.”
“Yeah.”
He still wouldn’t look at me and we worked quietly for a few minutes until all the dry ingredients were in the bowl. I got out a second bowl and my handheld mixer, then creamed together the butter and sugar. Once it was done, I set it to the side and turned to face him.
“So what was the plan?”
“I just…”
I waited but he didn’t continue, so I smiled gently. “I didn’t know you were this shy. You don’t have to be. Not with me.”
He let out a small, sheepish laugh. “I can be confident when I need to be. But this? You and me? Christ, I’m nervous.”
I didn’t know what he had to be nervous about, but I wanted him at ease so I said, “Let’s get this dough mixed, because it says even though you don’t have to chill this recipe, it’s best if you do for an hour or two. You get your thoughts together. Sound good?”
He nodded, and that’s what we did. It didn’t take long until we had a bowl of dark brown dough. I wanted to taste it, to see if it tasted as good as it smelled, but I knew that was a bad idea, so I covered it with plastic and slid it into the fridge.
Gingerbread and Good Tidings Page 3