by Olivia Miles
He sucked in a breath when he saw the customers at the table next to him tie their scarves and zip their coats and leave their dirty plates on a crumb-covered table. He glanced at Kara to see if she noticed or planned to do anything about it, as another customer searched for an open table, her plate balanced in her hand.
He stood, offering his table to the woman and child Kara had just helped. Kara was too busy ringing up the next order to notice, and still, the other table went unswept.
Little things like this could make or break a business. And he hadn’t even seen her books yet. From his time consulting on restaurants, he knew how costly some ordering issues could be. It was his job to step in, spot the problems, and suggest a plan of attack for running a more efficient business and setting everyone up on a path to success. He might be on vacation right now, but he couldn’t turn off the part of him that was always noticing areas for improvement, especially in a new business.
There was only one more person in front of him in line now, and Nate studied the cookies behind the spotless glass partition, his mouth admittedly salivating. She kept things simple, a strategy he agreed with: Some small business owners like her might tend to go overboard, offer everything and anything, and then end up with waste and a confused clientele. But Kara seemed to be clear in her brand. She sold cookies. Nothing else.
Except… Nate’s eyebrows rose as Kara handed a steaming mug of coffee to the woman in front of him. Catching his eye, her cheeks turned the same shade of pink as her soft sweater, and she looked away, focusing instead on making change for the woman.
“So, you decided to take my advice after all, I see.” He grinned, even when he saw a wave of fury pass through her eyes. He couldn’t help himself. She’d been so damn stubborn the other day at the diner. So determined to refuse his friendly suggestion. Now it would seem she’d had a change of heart.
“I’d been thinking about offering coffee for a while,” she replied briskly. “I just wanted to wait and see if there was any demand for it.”
He nodded slowly. “And is there?” Of course there was.
Kara just shrugged. “It would seem so, yes.”
He bit back a smile. Something told him Kara wouldn’t appreciate it, and he didn’t feel like getting on her bad side again. “Good.” He rolled back on his heels and looked around the room. “You have quite a bit of traffic in here. Are you running everything on your own?”
“Saturdays are always like this, especially during the holidays since everyone’s out shopping. Can I interest you in a peppermint white hot chocolate?”
So she’d taken his idea for coffee and taken it one step further. While hot cocoa might be a good idea from a sales standpoint during the Christmas season, he had to question if the amount of time it took to prepare each cup offset the profit.
“Tell me, is peppermint used in everything in this town? My aunt made peppermint scones for breakfast the other morning.”
Kara grinned. “’Tis the season.”
“Hmm.” His lips thinned. That was probably why he’d never liked the taste. Bad associations.
“I get the impression you’re not quite as into the holiday spirit as most folks around here.”
Ah. Caught. “What gave it away?” he asked.
Kara studied him for a moment, and he felt his stomach churn with unease as he stared at her pretty face, watching her clear blue eyes roam over him. Her lips were soft and supple and parted just enough to make him wonder what it might be like to kiss her.
He stiffened. No good thinking that way.
“Well, for starters, you don’t have that sort of drunk-on-Christmas look that everyone else around here gets this time of year. And you didn’t jump at the chance for peppermint hot chocolate, either.”
“I don’t like peppermint,” he replied.
She pointed a finger in the air, her lips curving. “Aha. Suspicion confirmed, then.”
He shrugged. “Christmas was never that big of a deal in my house. Most years I’m too busy working to pay much attention to it anyway.” More like he worked hard to avoid it… This year’s gift to his parents was supposed to eliminate that gut-churning feeling every time they gathered for the holiday, and the memories that haunted him, shadowing what should be a festive event. Instead, he was now caught up in the spirit of the season at every turn. And, if his aunt had any say in it, from every angle.
“Well, Christmas is a very big deal in Briar Creek. And in case you haven’t noticed, your aunt takes it very seriously.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed.” He laughed, thinking of the bags of decorations she’d triumphantly found at the Holiday Bazaar. Tonight they’d continue their efforts of transforming the house. With any luck, they could knock it out in a few hours and be done with it.
“Let me just wipe down a few tables and then I’ll show you the gingerbread house. I didn’t want to box it up in case you had any changes.”
“Sounds good.” He watched as she came around the corner, the pull of her gray wool skirt accentuating her subtle curves. Her long legs were covered in black tights, and for a moment he could almost imagine peeling them off, running his hands over her smooth, creamy legs, his gaze latching with those electric blue eyes.
He swallowed hard against the desire that built as she bent over a table to wipe it with a rag, giving him a full view of her perfect backside. He could have stared at her all day, if he wasn’t suddenly distracted by the jingling of bells over the door as a new round of customers came in.
“I’ll be right with you,” Kara said pleasantly as she walked over to clean another table.
Nate frowned, resisting the urge to check his watch to see how long it would take her to attend to the people who stood slightly impatiently at the counter beside him. Finally, Kara came back around the corner, a stack of dishes in her hand, her smile broad but her cheeks flushed. She was flustered, and why shouldn’t she be? She was doing too much, managing it all. She’d be better off paying someone to help out, relinquish some control. Because that was what it was about, he gathered. If she’d had the cash to create this place, then she had the cash to pay for some assistance.
Nate turned to the group of women beside him. “Ladies first.” He grinned and stepped back, letting Kara tend to them so she wouldn’t feel rushed when she was showing him the gingerbread house. He wanted to make sure it was what he’d envisioned. And, truth be told, he didn’t feel the need to hurry back to the inn. For a variety of reasons.
“If you won’t take a hot chocolate, then how about a cup of coffee?” Kara asked when she finished ringing up the other customers.
“Coffee sounds great,” he admitted.
She handed him a mug. “Cream or sugar?”
He took a long sip of his coffee. It was smooth and dark, and better than the offerings at the diner. “Black is fine.”
Kara scanned the room, then tipped her head toward the kitchen. “Follow me, then.”
Nate glanced over his shoulder at the door, deducing that she could probably afford to leave the counter unattended for a few minutes, and followed her through the swinging door into the kitchen, which could have been a scene straight from the North Pole, if one existed. The snowflake cookies he’d come to associate with her were lined by the dozens, some iced, some already sugared, the rest plain and waiting. The far counter was covered with gingerbread houses in various forms of completion, and the air smelled of vanilla and molasses and, of course, peppermint.
He fought the urge to pick up a candy cane–shaped cookie made from twisted white and red dough. Kara noticed and said, “These are today’s special. I stick with a standard menu and offer something new each day, in addition to seasonal favorites, of course. Try one.”
He took her up on the offer and bit into the cookie. He’d assumed it would be your run-of-the-mill sugar cookie, but this was something much different—and better. Cream cheese and something like chocolate coated his mouth. Not too sweet, the texture perfect.
“Thes
e are my red velvet cream cheese candy canes. I’ve already sold three dozen since I opened this morning,” Kara said proudly before glancing shyly away.
“You have a good business model,” he said after finishing the cookie.
Kara perked with interest. “Well, that must be good news. Here I thought you’d be full of more ideas for improvement.”
“Well…” Nate regretted the word as soon as he saw her expression fold. He lowered his coffee mug before he’d had a chance to take a sip and set it down on the nearest counter.
“Well what?” Kara leaned a hip against the center island and folded her arms across her chest, accentuating the curve of her breasts through her pale pink sweater. Her lips were pinched, her nose pert, and he didn’t think he’d seen her look cuter.
He held up a hand. “Look, I’m a management consultant. I tend to spot opportunities for improvement everywhere I go.” Other than the inn, he had to admit. His aunt ran that place with the expertise of a veteran, and it showed. She was a perfectionist, like Kara. The difference was that Kara was new to this and, possibly, in over her head. “I didn’t come here to insult you, I promise. You have a beautiful shop, you make damn good cookies, and you probably have a concrete business plan in place.”
Kara blinked. “What do you mean by a business plan?”
Nate stifled a groan. Of course. She hadn’t taken out a loan, hadn’t needed one. No one was backing this place. She’d sunk her own money into it. She hadn’t needed to pitch her idea to anyone, hadn’t needed to prove that she could make it a success.
He gritted his teeth. Reminded himself for the umpteenth time, Say nothing.
“I can tell you want to say something,” Kara cut in. She lifted her chin, her gaze steady. “Go on.”
Nate pulled in a breath. Since she’d asked for it… “I think… I think you might serve yourself better by hiring some part-time help.”
She snorted. “That’s all you’ve got?” She shook her head, laughing to herself as she walked over to the back of the room, where the rows of gingerbread houses were kept. “Of course I need part-time help. The only problem is that help doesn’t come free.”
“Yes, but…” He frowned, suddenly wondering if he’d misread the situation. But no. His aunt had specifically said that Kara had used her inheritance to start this business, and she’d as good as admitted it herself when she admitted to not having a business plan.
Kara turned. “Believe me, I’d love nothing more than to hire someone to help me out. Especially around the holidays. But for now, that’s not in the cards.”
He wanted to tell her it would never be in the cards if she drove away business by trying to juggle too many parts of the business. She should focus on what she did best: baking. She was one hell of a baker.
He couldn’t resist. He reached for another cookie, cocking his eyebrow when she caught him. “May I? I’ll pay.”
Her expression softened. “You may. And it’s on the house. Now, speaking of houses…”
She carried the gingerbread house from last night’s bazaar to the center island and carefully set it down. It was even more charming than he remembered it, made even better by the thoughtful additions she’d made to the decorations. She’d even placed a pear tree in the front yard, complete with a little partridge.
“How did you make this?” he marveled, bending for a closer look. He was astounded to realize that if you looked through the windows, she’d actually decorated the inside of the house as well. The walls were painted, some to even look like wallpaper, and there was a hearth and Christmas tree in the main room. Even a staircase draped in garland.
This thing could sell for three times what she was asking, if not more. And Kara was basically giving it away for free. He couldn’t imagine how much time this took. Had she calculated her hourly breakdown after the cost of supplies?
He scowled to himself. He doubted it.
“Everything is edible, well, technically. I use different ingredients: icing, sugar, marshmallow, marzipan paste, gummy candies, pretty much anything I can think of. I have an entire candy closet back there.” She laughed and came to stand next to him, bending so she could point out the details. “Here are the two turtle doves,” she said, gesturing to the little birds that sat atop the chimney. “And here are the twelve drummers drumming.”
Nate followed her hand to the perfectly formed and painted miniature drums, complete with gold batons, that were tucked around the back of the house, near the pond where seven swans were swimming, but he struggled to concentrate on the gingerbread house, no matter how exquisite. Her hair brushed his arm, and her face, this close up, was smooth and creamy, her nose slightly upturned, her lips full and pink. He stiffened at the surge of heat that fired in his blood.
“Oh, and here are the lords a-leaping. I have to admit, I struggled with this one.” She laughed as she reached out her arm to point out her handiwork, her body grazing his in the process. Nate felt something in his groin tighten as the soft material of her sweater skimmed his hand. She seemed smaller this close to him, and more animated, too. Her blue eyes danced as she walked him through the changes, and her smile never left her face. He liked being close to her like this. Liked the femininity of her energy, the little gestures she made with her fingers, the sweet smell of vanilla that seemed to float off her body.
“So, what do you think?” she asked as she righted herself to a standing position. She was staring at him expectantly, her eyes somewhat hopeful, and there was no way he couldn’t be dead honest with her.
“I think you are doing yourself a major disservice,” he said.
Her smile dropped at once. “Excuse me?”
“This gingerbread house. How long did it take you from start to finish, including the custom changes I asked for?”
Kara shrugged and looked at the house in dismay. “I don’t know. I didn’t really calculate it. I time how long I bake everything, but the rest… I just work until it’s finished.”
Meaning she started early and finished late. If she ever finished at all.
“This gingerbread house is worth four times what you’re charging.”
“Four times!” Kara scoffed and looked at him like he was half crazy. He refused to feed into it. “Please. Maybe in the big city, but not in Briar Creek.”
“The supplies alone cost money. Then you have to factor in your time. This is a work of art, Kara. You have a real gift,” he added softly.
She stared at him for a moment, then dismissed his words again with a wave of her hand. “I don’t want to take advantage of anyone. I think this is a fair price and clearly my customers do, too. I’ve limited myself to three completed houses a day, and I always sell out.”
No surprise there. Deciding to let the matter rest, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He had twice what she’d asked for on him in cash. He handed it all to her.
Kara glanced at the money and back to him, her cheeks reddening. “I can’t accept that.”
“Take it.” He thrust his hand forward. “You did extra work on it. You’ve earned it.”
A small smile teased the corners of her mouth. “Wow. Well, thank you. It wasn’t necessary, but thank you.” She took the money and slipped it into her apron pocket. Composing herself, she joked, “Just think, at this rate, I might be able to get some part-time help after all.”
She’d be able to get some part-time help by tomorrow if she’d listen to some of his suggestions. Then she’d be able to spend more time making the gingerbread houses and cookies she sold, too.
He’d let his advice sink in, like his suggestion for coffee. And he hoped she’d listen to him, too. Something told him she didn’t just want to make this business a success. Something told him she needed to.
Four hours after Nate left with the gingerbread house and the cookies for tea, Kara was still struggling to wipe the grin off her face. He’d liked her cookies. A lot. And he’d loved her gingerbread house.
Oh, she kne
w that folks in town thought they were cute. And she really did love coming up with new ideas for each one. But a compliment from Nate meant a little more, given the fact that he assessed businesses for a living. And whether she wanted to admit it to herself or not, he did seem to know what he was saying.
“Well, aren’t you chipper this afternoon,” Molly said when she came into the shop.
It was true that her good mood had carried her all through the afternoon, and she’d accomplished a record amount in the short period of time. “Ready to meet Ivy?” she asked as she untied her apron strings from her waist.
Before Kara started the bakery, she used to see her friend Ivy almost every day. These days she was lucky to see Ivy once a week, even though they both worked on Main Street. Come the start of the year, she vowed once again, she’d get a better balance on things. She’d take advantage of the holiday demand, get through this crazy time, and then hopefully grow her business in a new and better way in the new year. And after Nate’s words, she felt downright optimistic that this could happen.
“Sure.” Molly didn’t seem quite as enthusiastic as Kara would expect a bride to be. After all, didn’t most girls dream of the day they would pick out the flowers for their bouquet? Kara knew she had, and she remembered Molly doing the same. Molly loved weddings, always had—ever since she’d been chosen to be a flower girl in a distant cousin’s wedding at the tender age of four—and it was one of the reasons she’d been so determined to get a job at the bridal magazine.
Her sister seemed quiet as they walked toward Petals on Main, and Kara filled the gaps with stories from the bazaar, where she had sold all but five cookies by the end of the night. It had been a success, even if they still didn’t have a Christmas present for their mother…