How to Bake the Perfect Christmas Cake (Home for the Holidays - Book 2)

by Gina Henning

  “Merry Christmas to you too, Lauren, what are you doing?” Jack asks with such warmth from his voice, my ear is on fire.

  “I was about to make the cranberry relish.” I swipe some hair from my head and push it back behind my ears.

  “Can you come outside for a minute?”

  “Outside?” I rush to the front door and peer out the peep-hole. Jack is parked in front of my parents’ house.

  I unlock the door and walk outside. The phone is dead in my hand. My eyes meet Jack’s. Wow! He has such a strong stare. The kind of stare that knocks you off your feet. The kind of stare that makes you forget where you are, Who you are. Who he is. Is he the elusive one?

  “Lauren. You look—” Jack pulls me in close to him. Our lips meet with such a force, he doesn’t even finish his statement, if he had one. I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t care. I want his mouth on mine. His sumptuous lips, his tongue riding over the top of my own, it’s full and heavy. It’s like I’m drunk and dancing with his tongue, my emotions are wavering all over the place, stumbling, trying to find my footing, but I can’t. I’m falling hard.

  Jack’s lower hand is grabbing a hold of my waist he pulls me in closer. He guides me to his car, with our lips still locked he opens the door. Like a magician he places me into the car seat. Our lips break and I’m gasping for air. I need more of Jack right now. He’s my life line. I’m drowning in sadness without his lips on top of mine. I’m dizzy.

  Through blurred eyes Jack is crossing in front of the car and then slides in behind the steering wheel. He leans over and kisses me once more.

  “Wait!” I mutter before his lips overpower me again.

  “Jack!” I break our kiss for a second. He starts up the engine.

  “I can’t leave, I’m making the cranberries.” I am staring at him with a questioning gaze. The passion is burning for me too, but I did say I would make the cranberries and I have to follow through. I did for Thanksgiving with the pecan pie, I’m on a winning streak of success with holiday recipes, and this can’t be the point where I take a downfall.

  “Lauren, I need to see you away from your parents’ house for a minute. I promise you will be back in time to finish the cranberries.” Jack squeezes my leg and pulls away from my parents’ house.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jack gives me the last of the twelve brown packages. “Save this for dinner.” He kisses me.

  “Okay.” I take the package. Am I ready for this? For this life-changing situation? I’m not sure. I think technically I’m capable of the commitment. But what about the actual changes that will come with a partnership? A lifetime spent with one person. Marriage. I could do it. I could do it for Jack. Anything for those kissable lips. Those lips that are running all over the top of mine. Tasting my tongue and searching for something more, something that would not be happening in the car parked in front of my parents’ house. I unlock my seat belt and squeeze Jack’s leg.

  “Come on, I still have to make the cranberries.” I pull back and reach for the door handle.

  Jack bites my lower lip. “We have to make the cranberries.”

  “Don’t you have to pick up your Aunt Minnie?” I grab for the door handle again and Jack’s hand lands over the top of mine.

  “I’ll get her afterwards.” He squeezes my hands and releases my mouth. The car door opens and Jack runs around to my side. This time I push the door open as he grabs the handle. He smiles at me and offers his hand. I gladly take it. Getting out of a car in stilettos is much easier with support of a strong man than on your own. The smile stretching across my face is not about the change in relationship status, I’m excited Jack cares enough to make the cranberries with me. I really wanted to make them together and the fact that he either sensed this or also wanted to make it happen…I’m warmed from head to toe.

  We stride hand in hand to the door. From the window, the curtain drops and I know we have been spied on. I hope its Winter or River and not my sister or mom or, worse, my dad. I know I’m in my twenties living on my own but still the idea of my dad seeing me making out in the car doesn’t exactly give me warm fuzzy feelings.

  I turn the doorknob and we walk into a wild scene. Winter and River are chasing each other with what appears to be frosting? Megan is in the kitchen with her back turned to us and my dad and Luke are on the couch watching a football game.

  My mom walks down the stairs wearing her ‘Rocking around the Christmas tree’ outfit. It’s a green sweater which looks like a decorated Christmas tree and has a 3D guitar singer made to be like Peggy Lee and when you push the guitar it moves back and forth singing the song. She matches this with her red candy cane leggings, jingle bell bracelet and hair tie to match, which is a bit of a stretch since my mom doesn’t have a ton of hair to bundle into a hair tie, but this does not seem to faze her.

  “Lauren, were you still going to make your cran— Oh, hello, Jack.” My mom peers over my shoulder to make eye contact with Jack.

  “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Hauser.” Jack offers his hand to my mom, to shake I suppose. This is a bit formal.

  “Oh, Jack, please call me Sandra.” My mom giggles. What is up with that? I don’t understand why she gets giddy around him. It’s not like he is flirty or anything. I mean I get it. He is hot, obviously…I picked up on that the moment I saw him, but he is my boy— Fiancé. Shiat. I can’t even get my head round the concept of this title and I have to keep it quiet until after the dinner. I don’t want to. I want to share. I also need to mull over my feelings.

  “Yes, the cranberries, Jack is going to help me.” I grab his hand and drag him towards the refrigerator. I pull out the cranberries from the fruit bin and dig my phone out of my pocket. I check out the recipe. But of course it’s dead. Shiat. I bite my lip.

  “Merry Christmas, Megan.” Jack says to Megan, who still has her back turned to us.

  “Yes. Merry Christmas.” Megan slightly peers over her shoulder and gives a half-smile. Our menstrual cycles used to match up, so if this is still the case, she is a good two weeks away from full-on flow. I’m not sure why she is being such a B Maybe I should offer her some of my liquid Vitamin B. It always puts me in a better mood, especially when I’m in the grumps of bitchydom. I don’t want to offer her any in front of Jack though, that’s not something I would want to share with him.

  Since my phone is dead, I’m going to have to look up the recipe elsewhere. I walk over to Jack’s pocket and reach in to grab his phone. Something ignites in him and he reaches down quickly and grabs my hand. I pull it out of the pocket with his phone in my hand. The look on his face is one that gives me fiery sensations all over. It’s the same one he gave me when I drew stripes on his face with flour over Thanksgiving. The kind of expression that warns of repayment in the future. I’m not afraid of any retaliation from Jack’s part. I mouth “bring it on” to him. Jack shakes his head with a grin. Oh yes, two can play at this game.

  “Okay, so I need to - um - I mean, we need to get these cranberries on the stove and then add the sugar.” I glance up from his phone, Jack’s eyes are focused on me. He tugs on my skirt.

  “Sugar.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

  I grimace and my eyes dart towards Megan who is busy chopping up potatoes and move my head back to the right, to push forth the idea that we are not alone and thus he might not want to be grabby or kissy with me right now. Before we came inside, he put the ring back in the box. He wants to ask me after dinner in front of everyone, or at least announce it together in front of everyone.

  I wish it were on my finger though, it’s so pretty, such a shame to have to wait but, alas, patience is a virtue, or so I’ve been told no less than a zillion times by my mother.

  “Yes, so I’ll dump these cranberries, if you want to get the sugar from the pantry it’s on the third shelf.” I take a saucepan out of the drawer under the stove and turn the burner on. My parents have an electric stovetop with the big coil burners. I’m not much of a cook but I do prefer gas, even though I
get a little paranoid about the possibility of leaving my gas burners on at home and have to check them at least three times before I’m convinced they are actually off, completely.

  “Lauren, I can’t seem to find it…Can you?” Jack calls from the pantry. It is not that big of a room, it doesn’t make sense for him not to be able to find the sugar. It’s in a large canister. My mom painted with chalk paint and wrote in chalk “sugar” in big capital letters. I make my way to the pantry and Jack grabs me and closes the door shut, quickly but with no sound. I don’t even have time to be impressed with his skills because I’m being whisked away into Romancelandia courtesy of his lips that are covering mine and his tongue is pushing into my mouth. He tastes like sugar. I pull back.

  “Did you eat some sugar?’ I flitter my eyelashes.

  Jack smiles at me and nods before he finds my mouth again. I’m falling deep but I have to pull myself back to the present, as we are in my parents’ pantry and I can’t go further than this very sexy kiss. I grab the canister of sugar hidden behind Jack and give it to him.

  “Oh, you wanted that type of sugar?” Jack’s eyes dance and he kisses me once more. Outside the door I can hear my mom talking to Megan. Now I’m embarrassed at the possibility of being called out for making out in my parents’ pantry.

  I purse my lips. “My mom is out there now…” I say through clenched teeth. I can’t imagine what my mom would say. Probably something along the lines of us being in deep kimchi…or at least that’s what she said in high school. I hope he has some sort of excuse for this situation.

  “But, more importantly, we are in here,” Jack says as he slides his hand up my skirt and I’m glad I chose some lacey panties. His hands roam all over my legs and hot spots, I’m doing my best not to make a sound. I bite at his shoulder and his body quivers and his hands stop.

  “All right, we’ll continue that later, Ms. Soon-to-be-Walker.” Jack pulls my skirt back down and opens the door. He walks out into the kitchen with such confidence I can’t help but swoon. I give myself a second to calm down and bring my cheeks to a somewhat normal shade before I enter the kitchen.

  ***

  The table has my mom’s favorite red cloth over it, adorned with glitter and drawings from each Christmas. She always provides markers for new additions to the memory cloth as she calls it. My mom spent the better part of the last ten years hunting down a place setting for every person and then some, to match. Some obscure brand with a painted picture of Santa in his sleigh circles around the rim of the platter. She now has twenty place settings. Last year, she finally found the gravy bowl. I can’t even believe the amount she paid for it on eBay. But to each their own. Megan has gone upstairs to primp prior to dinner. It isn’t enough that she practically made the entire meal herself, she also needs to look like a Hollywood wife upon presentation.

  I need to do some freshening up of my own. I stop at the bottom of the stairs. Brian is where I left him hours earlier. He glances over at me and wipes some sweat from his brow.

  “It’s really coming along, huh?” Brian taps on the rail. Or what would be a rail. Except it does not resemble anything even close to a rail. I’m not sure what his vision was for it. In the place of the rail are shelves of various sizes. Painted different colors. I can’t imagine my dad finding this an improvement. And what is the purpose of the shelves? With the downward slant it’s not possible for them to hold anything.

  “Yes, wow.” I blink my eyes several times. “Excuse me.” I tap him gently on his shoulder as I pass by. After all the kissing I’m sure my lip-gloss is requiring some adjustment. I open the door to my room and sit down in front of my vanity and squint at my hair, it’s not exactly bedhead but it’s definitely calling out for a comb or pick, anything to avoid the wild hair look. Jack might want to call me his wild hare, but I refuse to look like one by choice. I run the pick through my hair and pat it down. I grab my tube of mascara from my makeup bag and apply a few additional swipes to my lashes. My eyeliner also seemed to bleed a bit at the sides…too much closing for long periods of time can do that. Alas…all in the name of romance. I’ll take it.

  In the mirror I adjust my blouse and my ringless finger catches my eye. I wonder how many other people have been proposed to and then had to give the ring back in a matter of hours. I mean I get it, we are going to make it a big deal after dinner, but I’m already missing my pretty ring. It instantaneously brought me closer to Jack. It’s an immediate reminder of our status. We are official and headed somewhere promising, and not on some one-way ticket to a long-distance hook-up. I mean, I know it isn’t like a one-night stand hook-up, but this is so much more. Fiancé-status. Argh. I wish I could talk to someone about it. I grab my phone from my vanity and push the home button. There is a text from Jack.

  Mrs.-Soon-to-be-Walker, I just left your parents’ house and it killed me a bit inside. After dinner, I don’t want you ever away from my side. Unless of course you need to use the restroom then, by all means, have your privacy. See you soon. X JACK

  My chest tightens, I inhale and then slowly let out the breath, but my stomach is all swirls still. Damn. I want to lie on my bed and read his text over and over. Of course I can’t. I check the time of the text, it was from about forty minutes ago. Which means he should be on his way back soon. I slide the phone into my pocket and then pull it out.

  Xss…are you en route back? Missing your lips. And I press send before I can contemplate whether or not it’s a good-enough message.

  My phone buzzes in my hand and flashes a response from Jack.

  My lips are missing your skin…I’ll fix that tonight. Leaving soon. X JACK

  Soon? Why hasn’t he left yet? If I were a gambler I would bet it had to do something with Aunt Minnie and maybe even the cat. Eesh, I hope she doesn’t plan on bringing it. My parents are not animal people. The most I was ever allowed to have as a child was a goldfish. Unfortunately, it wasn’t much of a survivor.

  I close my bedroom door and stop in the hallway outside of Megan’s door. I can hear her crying.

  “I just don’t want her to get hurt.” Megan’s muffled voice says from inside her room.

  “I know, Megan, but you don’t know that she will, he seems like a nice guy.” Brian’s voice responds.

  “Nice is not good enough. This money situation screams of a set-up. I just don’t understand why she can’t see it.”

  “Megan, you don’t know that. Come on, we need to go downstairs.”

  Part of me wants to burst open the door and shout at Megan. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about and part of me questions if there is any validity to what she is saying. He got the random wire transfer and he even put my name on the account. Which must mean something. I would think. But is she right?

  I stumble toward the stairs and grip onto the wall, Brian is still in the midst of fixing the railing. I make my way into the kitchen. Everything is fine. Megan is probably upset because she is over-protective. Or maybe jealous because I will no longer be single. Maybe she feels like this makes me not so inferior to her? I don’t know. Either way. I trust Jack.

  I do. Yikes, and I’ll be saying this very thing soon. But when? We never talked about anything like dates or anything. But that’s probably normal. I let out another big breath. More important than dates is housing, where will we live, will he move to Baltimore for me?

  “Hey, it’s the bird, what’s wrong?” My dad is staring at me with his all-knowing eyes. It seems like he has always called me “the bird” when he can sense something is up. It’s his special name for me. I can’t even remember how I got it. I’m not sure if it was because I was a huge fan of Big Bird as a child or what.

  “Nothing, I just hope my cranberries turn out.” I laugh and stride towards the refrigerator. My dad’s hand covers mine at the door handle.

  “Lauren, baby, are you sure? It’s not that Jack guy, is it? Do I need to have a talk with him?” My dad releases my hand and motions with it. I can see him having a talk w
ith Jack. Actually I couldn’t because I can’t imagine Jack being flustered by my dad or anyone for that matter. He is too confident, a bit on the arrogant side, but I can’t deny it isn’t one of things about him I find attractive.

  “No, Dad. Jack is great. In fact, I think he might be the one.” I bite my lip. Shiat, timing is everything, I wish I could retract that last sentence. But it’s too late. It has already flown out into the atmosphere and is ready to be judged and tackled by all who have heard. I take a quick glance around the room. Whoosh, thankfully it’s only me and my dad.

  “The one, huh?” My dad picks up a piece of salami from the antipasti platter and takes a bite. I would have a piece of mozzarella, but I have zero appetite at this moment. The only thing that would spark my appetite would be Jack. I could live off his kisses and water. No food necessary, I’m sure that’s possible. His lips are sweet, especially when he puts sugar in his mouth. I smile, thinking about how incredibly sexy that was. My dad’s left eyebrow is raised. It’s his questioning stare.

  “Maybe.” There, that ought to suffice. Maybe we can move on, I don’t want to give too much away and ruin the surprise for later.

  “I don’t know, Lauren, I’m not sure if this Jack character is good enough for my daughter.” My dad shakes his head.

  Shiat. That’s not good. The shaking head from my father means he has already made up his mind. I have seen this headshake and tried for years to turn it into a nod only to end up at the starting point of no, exhausted and throwing in the towel. No, I couldn’t go to the sleepover. No, I couldn’t go to the campfire. No, I couldn’t go on the double date. All nos based upon my dad’s headshake.

  The last step of the stair creaks and I know it’s my mom. She is the only person in the house that does not purposely skip the last step. It’s almost as if she enjoys the creak from the bottom step. If it were my house I think I would have fixed it years ago.

  “Who’s not good enough? Are you talking about Jack?” My mom has her discerning face on. The face which has actually won battles against my father.