Most Wonderful

by Bryce Oakley

  Most Wonderful

  A Lesbian Christmas Romance

  Bryce Oakley

  Copyright © 2019 by Bryce Oakley

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For more information, contact bryceoakleywriter@gmail.com.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used for fictional purposes. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Edited by Amanda Laufhutte

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Thank you!

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Bryce Oakley

  Chapter 1

  Emilia

  Emilia was comforted by the sound of her heels clicking on the hardwood floor of Between the Covers as she paced back and forth, going over the particulars of Friday's event again.

  Her cousin and business partner, Frankie, was switching out records on the vinyl player behind the counter. The Beach Boys’ “Little Saint Nick” began blaring through the speakers, those familiar few bell dings instantly making her cringe.

  Ugh, Christmas music already?

  She walked through the front of the store with its hip-height shelves, straightening Best Sellers and New Releases and Staff Favorites. This week her pick was the new Johanna Kissler memoir, Brave Souls.

  Seeing it on the shelf made her stomach flip over in equal parts excitement and terror. The shop was hosting an event for Johanna Kissler, a New York Times Bestselling Author, in just a few days and the planning was still frustratingly up in the air.

  To say Emilia wanted nothing more than for the shop to succeed wasn’t quite right. She wanted the shop to not only succeed, but to be amazing. She wanted Between the Covers to be a landmark. An establishment, like the Strand. Or Powell’s. She wanted authors to get excited about reading there.

  And that all started with Johanna Kissler. That’s why it had to be perfect. She had never been so happy to host a non-holiday-related book event.

  She looked around the shop with pride. The holiday decorations were Frankie and Nico’s doing, her little shop shined regardless.

  A brightly colored loft above was filled with children's books and a reading nook where mothers brought toddlers for morning readings on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

  The lower shelves in the front of the shop were interspersed with five smaller dining tables, perfect for enjoying a coffee and a new book.

  Further back on the main level, behind the lower front shelves, were floor-to-ceiling units stocked with new and used books covering more subjects than she could ever fathom reading.

  She inhaled and smiled: equal parts musty paper and the sweet richness of coffee.

  Along one side of the shop ran the cash register and coffee counter, where Frankie was currently drumming along with her best Dennis Wilson impression.

  "Relax, Emilia, it's only Monday. Plenty of time,” Frankie said with a wink.

  Emilia paused in mid-step, shaking her head. Frankie had a creepy way of always knowing what was on her mind.

  Frankie's dog, Austen, came trotting out of the History section with Nico, the morning barista, right behind her, shooing the beefy pup along. "You little beggar," Nico said, pointing to the dog.

  Emilia watched Austen grunt and woof at the attention, and she tried her hardest to suppress a grin as Nico rolled her eyes at Frankie laughing.

  "She's a spoiled little brat. She was trying to break open the fridge," Nico teased Frankie.

  "This angel?" Frankie’s voice raised an octave. The dog's large mouth split into her signature giant smile. "Look at that face and tell me she even has to start begging," Frankie said, waving her hand toward Austen.

  Even with the friendly banter, The Beach Boys’ harmonies and Austen's insistent woofing of innocence, Emilia felt strangely calm. At home, even.

  Frankie and Nico were her closest friends, and they made work even better each day.

  Emilia’s stomach growled, reminding her that being awake for five hours and not eating was not a great idea. With a wave to the other women, she grabbed her jacket and slipped out the front door, the bells affixed to the top jingling behind her.

  She took a deep breath, the crisp early December air invigorating her again, and leaned back against the brick doorway. It was her absolute favorite weather. The air was chilly but fresh. A perfect winter morning in Denver.

  The little bookshop was nestled in a great spot, near Union Station in LoDo, and though the traffic and parking was terrible, the shop still rarely had a moment without at least three customers browsing the aisles or sitting down with a coffee.

  The bookshop wouldn't open for another thirty minutes, but she was already growing anxious again about the final plans for Friday's author reading. She took a deep breath, and tried not to panic about how Johanna Kissler was sure to be a huge draw.

  She was thrilled that Kissler had selected such a small independent shop for her reading, but having such a big name in the little store also made Emilia stressed beyond belief.

  The list of things to get done was ever-growing.

  Rent chairs? Check.

  PA system working? Checked three times, just that weekend.

  Tickets already sold out? Within hours.

  Hors-d'oeuvres ordered? Yes.

  The specific cupcakes Johanna had requested? Ordered, even though the shop she had to buy them from was across town instead of the bakery next door.

  Her stomach rumbled at the thought of cupcakes. She almost always forgot to eat breakfast at home in her haste to get to the shop. She straightened her pencil skirt, pausing to look at her reflection in the bookshop’s window. She pushed a stray hair back into her pin-tight bun, straightening her posture before opening the bakery door.

  The overwhelming aroma of warm, buttery bread and sweets made her feel like she hadn’t eaten in years.

  "Morning, Emilia," Henry said, as his familiar, wrinkled face pulled into a smile.

  She smiled and said good morning to the older man, who had been her shop neighbor for three years. She ordered the same thing each morning, a spinach and egg white sandwich on a whole grain roll.

  It was easy to see that Emilia liked routines, and coming over to Henry's Bakeshop was definitely one of her favorite parts of each morning. Henry was as much of a constant in her life as her employees.

  Looking in the cases at all of the pastries and treats and smelling the delicious bread that lined the back wall in baskets was as almost comforting to her as the paper scent of the bookshop. She also deeply appreciated that zero holiday music was blaring from the speakers. In fact, there were no speakers. Blissful peace at last.

  She looked down at her wallet, grabbing her card out, and glanced back up to ask Henry about his morning, but momentarily forgot how to speak.

  A woman had appeared beside Henry, someone she didn't recognize. She was in an apron, so apparently, she belonged there, but Emilia would
have remembered that face. The woman had bright blue eyes and cheekbones carved from marble — solid, with a strong jaw. Her light brown, reddish hair fell in shaggy, loose curls around her ears, and her biceps flexed against the fabric of her shirt when she reached her hand out. Emilia’s heart did a little skip and her stomach joined in with a flutter.

  Cool it, body, she scolded herself, knowing that there were way more important things to be thinking about this week. Besides, this woman was way too stunning to be a regular person. Undoubtedly, she was a model or actor with those looks, and thus, way out of Emilia’s league.

  "You must be Emilia," the woman said with an easy smile.

  Emilia stared for a second too long before reaching to shake her hand tentatively.

  "My niece," Henry said. "I told her to watch out for the librarian-type who means business. Told her you enjoy cutting people off at the knees. Emilia Marin, this is Cody Nowak."

  Cody chuckled, shaking her head. "Wow, a last name introduction, even. Please, you can call me Cody."

  "Nice to meet you," she said, her cheeks flushing. She cleared her throat, pushing back a stray hair that had fallen from her bun.

  Cody smiled as she ducked down to get something from under the counter, then stood, brushing at the chest of her apron.

  Emilia’s eyes followed her hand, and she found herself staring where those fingers had just been. Oh, to be those fingers. Or even the apron, she considered.

  Cody cleared her throat, and she started with a jerk. Oh god, what had she asked? "Hmm, what? Yes. The usual." She handed Henry her card, trying her hardest not to make eye contact with Cody.

  “The holidays, huh?" Henry grinned, typing in the order on the tablet in front of him and running the card. She swore she thought she saw a small, knowing twinkle in his eye.

  "Something like that," she said, only halfway paying attention before remembering herself. "Sorry, I must be really out of it today. We have this huge author coming on Friday, and there's a lot to do. Johanna Kissler, have you heard of her?" She was rambling, unable to stop the words from coming out of her mouth as she stuffed her card hastily back in her wallet.

  "Oh, yeah, she writes those dramatic, ‘find yourself' memoirs I see on the endcaps at Target, right?" Cody said with a teasing grin, her dimples popping.

  Emilia quirked a brow. "Or you may recognize her from the large display in our window," she said. And there she was, back again, the Ice Queen. She mentally high-fived herself.

  "Did I say Target? I definitely meant your shop. Does Target even sell books? What's Target?" Cody said, raising her shoulders in an animated shrug.

  "Solid recovery," Emilia said, smiling despite herself.

  The bakery was busy that morning, as she noticed it was most mornings, and Cody was taking orders and grabbing pastries and loaves of bread out of the case in front of her.

  Despite the newness of her, Emilia was struck by how she looked as though she fit in so naturally. She seemed to know where things were and how the bakery ran without having to ask questions.

  Emilia was most definitely not struck by the way her thick hair curled around her ears. Or how broad her shoulders were, and how Emilia could see the muscles in them move under her shirt as she reached for a bagel for another customer in line.

  A young cook from the back walked up with her sandwich wrapped in white butcher paper, startling her from her daydream. She hurried out with a small wave to Cody and Henry.

  She walked back to Between the Covers feeling a little lighter. Her cheeks still felt warm, and she couldn't wipe the smile off her face. When she walked in the front door, Frankie and Nico were dancing behind the counter and singing into invisible microphones.

  Frankie noticed her, and dance-walked over, doing a dramatic dip in her path. Emilia giggled, joining in by singing the next line of the song, which made Frankie raise an eyebrow as she righted herself. Frankie looked down at the sandwich in Emilia’s hand and nodded her head in an understanding moment.

  "What?" she asked, looking down at the sandwich.

  "You met Cody," Frankie said, matter-of-factly.

  Nico clapped, making an excited squeal.

  "What?" she repeated, looking back and forth between the two women. "What are you talking about?" Seriously with the mind reading, Frankie.

  "That smile, that saunter, we know it well. It's the look of ‘I Just Met Gorgeous Cody From Next Door,'" Frankie said, leaning against the counter.

  "We both had it on Friday, didn't you notice?" Nico added. She fanned herself. "That jawline," she kissed her fingertips like an Italian chef. "In fact, I think I'm going to spend more time eating baked goods. I think I'm going on a pastry-only diet."

  "Oh, I, uh, didn't notice her," Emilia lied, feeling self-conscious while both women stared at her with broad, knowing smiles.

  Both Nico and Frankie burst into hysterics. "Keep telling yourself that, Emmy,” Frankie said with an obvious wink.

  She sighed, walking towards the office in the back of the shop. She had way bigger things to worry about than some good-looking woman. But that stupid, silly smile just kept returning, no matter how much she tried not to let it show.

  Chapter 2

  Cody

  Cody watched Emilia walk out the door to the bakery. Well, it was more of a strut, wasn’t it?

  Henry chuckled beside her. "I've never seen any hint of frazzle on that woman before," he said.

  Cody didn't doubt that for one moment. But if she didn't stop thinking about Emilia’s round ass in that pencil skirt and the whole Sexy Librarian look she had going on… She shook her head, clearing her thoughts.

  She couldn't be distracted. Getting distracted had gotten her into this mess.

  Mess was a loose term. Situation?

  She had been back for about a week, and had only started in the store again on Friday. Of course, nothing had changed. Being at the bakery felt as natural to her as breathing. She would do a good job, even if the bakery wasn't where she was staying. It was only a temporary gig. And what better time to return home for a few weeks than during the holidays? Christmas always felt magical at the shop, surrounded by Christmas cookies and treats. Even the fruit cakes somehow felt right.

  Uncle Henry's Bake Shop. The one constant buoy in her mess of a life. She had grown up in this shop. It had been her first job, given her responsibility when she was in dire need of it, and had kept her coming back to Denver over and over again.

  Maybe that's where the teen hormones were coming from. Maybe there were just so many memories of her adolescence in these walls, she couldn't help but get caught up in feeling all of that again.

  A week ago, she had been a paramedic in Fort Collins, just an hour north of Denver. Before that, she had been on track to become a chef before realizing she hated working in a kitchen. Before that... well, the point was obvious. She had always reveled in being a drifter, unable to be tied down, but the last gig had actually turned into a passion.

  Being a paramedic had given her so much purpose, no matter where she was. Sure, the pay was awful and the work haunted her long after she had gone home, but it gave her a reason to get up each morning. She was saving lives. She was comforting people in their most terrifying moments.

  Until... she wasn't. Until she failed.

  She desperately needed a break from that life to figure out if it was even the right path for her.

  Her mother was always saying that Cody let her emotions guide her too much. Taking a step back would help put things in perspective.

  That's all the bakery time was. Perspective. A break. It was not permanent.

  "Honey, are you going to crush that bagel or put it in the bag?" Henry asked from over her shoulder.

  She released her grip on the poor undeserving bagel. It hadn't done anything to her, after all.

  She had been at the shop since 3 am, up to her elbows in dough, and she was exhausted. Happy and fulfilled, but exhausted. She tossed the mangled bagel aside and grabbed a new one
to toss into the slicer and toaster.

  She bent, grabbing a small tub of cream cheese out of the cooling drawer to toss into the bag with the bagel, when she heard giggles behind her.

  She turned to find Frankie and Nico from the bookshop next door with looks that said she had definitely just busted them for giggling like teen girls.

  At least she wasn't the only one feeling immature that morning.

  Henry had already given her the rundown of the bookshop, as if the gossip subject was his favorite. He had told her that Frankie and Emilia were cousins who owned the shop.

  Cody had learned that Emilia was driven and focused, and Frankie was rambunctious and wild. She had heard her extremely loud music from the backroom, and while she didn't have bad taste by any means, it was still pretty presumptuous to think that anyone else would want to listen to The Smiths at 7 pm on a Friday night.

  "Hey Frankie. Nico," Cody said, smiling. "Sorry, but we don't serve troublemakers." She made a half-hearted gesture towards the door with a shrug.

  Nico turned bright red, but Frankie clearly never missed a beat. Her grin switched to complete innocence, her eyes growing in size as she practically morphed into a Precious Moments doll on the spot.

  "You would refuse two hungry women in need of a scone?" Frankie said.

  Frankie was exactly the type of woman Cody would have gone for before coming back to Denver. She was funny, gorgeous, and kept the whole world on their toes.

  But after meeting Emilia this morning, Cody was surprised to find that it was definitely the older Marin cousin who had caught her eye. They looked nearly identical with their dark hair and full, round lips, but something about Emilia piqued her interest.