"I’m sorry, love." Rowan reached across the table and gave her best friend’s hand a warm squeeze. "Any way you can skip?"
"Only if I’m bleeding to death. And even then . . ." She shrugged.
Rowan raised her coffee cup in a salute. "To family."
Charlotte knocked her cup against Rowan’s. "Happy holidays.” She giggled.
A little while later, they headed back to Elli’s. Full dark had fallen in the meantime and, with it, the temperature. Rowan huddled deep into her coat.
Charlotte walked her to the door and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Good luck with those candy canes," she said. She hopped into her warm car, thanks to her remote starter when they were still a block away, and waved as she pulled from the curb.
Taking a deep breath, Rowan hurried into the warmth of Elli’s. She hung her coat up, then went into the walk-in.
Matt bent over a shelf, his black Dickies accenting his ass.
"Nice," she said flirtatiously.
Straightening, he turned and wrapped her in a hug. Full, warm lips pressed to hers. "Aw, look who’s cold. Let me warm you up, baby."
"In the walk-in?" Rowan lifted an eyebrow.
He smirked. "We could do it in the kitchen instead, if you prefer."
"Tempting," she said, twirling away, "but I’ve got a hot date." She grabbed her chilled dough and took it to her station, leaving him chuckling after her.
Heart thudding in her chest, she eyed the dough on the stainless steel, willing it to cooperate. "All right," she said. "Let’s break this streak."
Two
A frustrated cry rang through the entire Elli’s building. Matt straightened from the shelves he squatted next to. He jotted down the number of bags of flour in Elli’s inventory, listening out for further distress. Seconds dripped by, and he started to think maybe Rowan had just stubbed her toe or something. She could be clumsy at times.
Rowan swore, the string of words reaching his ears. “Again?!” she howled.
Wincing, he put down his clipboard and headed out of the little storage room. He found Rowan slumped in defeat next to a burnt batch of candy cane cookies. “Oh no.” He reached out for her, but she turned, shoulders hunching in protective despair.
“I don’t get it,” she sobbed, her hands covering her face.
His heart ached for her. It was bad enough she’d been stuck in a baking rut. Burning Katherine’s special recipe was an assault on everything she held dear. He rubbed her back. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling helpless.
“I’m cursed,” she cried. “Ruined. I’ll never bake again!”
Matt frowned. He hated hearing her talk like that. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight. “Maybe you just need a break,” he said softly, kissing the top of her head. She smelled like her usual vanilla and sandalwood fragrance, but with an additional layer of peppermint.
“No.” She sniffled. “I have to try again.”
She pulled away, and he let her go, admiring her tenacity. Or maybe it was sheer stubbornness. He loved how important baking was to her, how she could whip up recipes out of nowhere. The defeated creature that had been crying a couple minutes ago was not the woman he adored. This Rowan—the one who was already laying out the ingredients for another go—was the person he admired. She just never gave up. He smiled. She’d kick this bad streak in no time.
“No,” she groaned.
“What’s wrong?”
“We’re out of eggs. How can we be out of eggs?” She threw her hands up. “Did I really go through four dozen already?”
Matt pressed his lips together.
She turned and faced him. “I’m killing our inventory.”
“You’re just working through this.”
“I’m a financial disaster!”
“It’s just eggs.”
He watched as she checked the walk-in. “And butter. Oh my God!” She spun on her heels. “You can’t let me do this anymore. I have to be stopped!”
A smile tugged at his lips. “You’re not an abomination.”
“I’m killing baked goods. I’m like a horde of zombies.”
“You’ve been watching way too much The Walking Dead.”
She sighed. “We don’t get a delivery until next week. I’ve gotta go to the store. Again.” She glanced around for her keys.
Matt held up a hand. “I’ll go. You . . . clean something. Or watch something on Netflix. Anything other than beating yourself up.”
“Are you saying that I’m a clean-aholic?”
“Yes. But if it helps . . .” He grinned.
“Maybe I’ll just go get another coffee.”
“Good. And call Charlotte,” he said. Something about Rowan’s best friend always calmed her down. Charlotte was pure magic.
She nodded. Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed a kiss to his lips. As her warmth tingled against his skin, he sighed. Kissing Rowan was magic. His arms automatically twined around her, and he pulled her tight against him. If the opportunity wasn’t so perfect, he would kiss away her worries. But his window was limited.
He pulled away and kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll be back soon.” He nodded to the tray of ruined cookies. “Toss ‘em. We’ll start over.”
“And what if I ruin them again? How will we win the contest?”
Matt grinned. “We’ll obnoxiously decorate the crap out of the place, and we’ll swoon them all with inflatable Santas.”
She swatted at him with a towel. “You’re insane.”
“And you’re beautiful.”
He kissed her again, then grabbed his coat and hurried out of the bakery. Outside, snow was still falling. Maybe he’d get lucky and it’d snow so hard, they’d end up snowed in for the night. Or at the very least, she’d be so into the romantic weather, she’d invite him to stay over her place. But first he had some things to take care of.
While he waited for his geriatric pickup to warm up, he sent out three texts. He almost felt guilty, like he was somehow deceiving Rowan for going behind her back. But he was desperate. He’d had months to prepare for this, yet he’d been completely unable to find the perfect gift for her.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried.
The girl had everything, including an entire bakery full of her favorite baking tools. What Elli’s hadn’t already had, she’d bought during the past six months with her own money. A new mixer came out in November and, before he could secretly buy one for her, she’d bought it for herself. Besides, he didn’t just want to get her a kitchen appliance. She was a strong woman, and even though baking was her passion, she was so much more than that. It’d be like a guy getting his wife of fifty years a vacuum cleaner. She deserved something amazing because she was amazing.
Buying her an engagement ring would be horribly cliché. Everyone got engaged during the holidays. It was almost expected, and when the time came, he wanted to really surprise her. Besides, he wasn’t entirely sure they were ready for that step. Things were good, but they’d barely been dating half a year. There was no rush.
He’d entertained the idea of getting her a promise ring, but he thought it was too soon. Besides, their relationship itself was a promise. Both of them knew they were it for each other. It was just a matter of time.
He needed help—and allies. Going behind her back was his only option.
Three replies came to him and he grinned. His team was assembled and ready. He threw the warm pickup into gear and pulled out of the Elli’s parking lot. Time was ticking, and he needed to move fast. If he took too long at the grocery store, she’d suspect something.
Matt picked up Leo, Rowan’s often surly eighteen-year-old brother. When Matt first got together with Rowan, she hadn’t been on good terms with her family. In the months since, she’d grown closer to them—even Leo. It turned out that, where her sister Mia was constantly trying to take everything away from Rowan, Leo adored her. He once begrudgingly admitted to Matt that Rowan had taught him all about music he wouldn’t have otherwise
listened to. That, Matt knew, was a lot coming from the teenage boy.
“But don’t tell anyone I said that,” Leo had said. “I’ll deny it.”
Glancing at Leo, who sat huddled in his black Element hoodie, Matt suppressed a smile. The kid totally didn’t look like the type to listen to Kiiara, BANKS, or anything else his sister liked—especially since Rowan loved dance music and R&B. But he’d admitted it was “interesting” to listen to when he was hanging out by himself after a party, and that BANKS was actually “good at writing lyrics.”
“What’s so funny?” Leo asked, scowling at Matt.
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
He picked up his own little brother next. Danny was eleven and Matt was pretty sure he knew the truth about Santa. He figured his little brother needed every drop of Christmas magic he could get. Plus, Danny looked up to Rowan. She let him help her in the kitchen and even allowed him to lick the bowl. Matt’s mom had rarely baked during their childhood. After their dad passed away, she had even less energy to do typical mother/child activities. Danny had missed out on a lot of things. Every time Rowan handed him a spatula coated in raw brownie mix, the kid’s eyes lit up. Matt knew Danny would love to be involved with the surprise.
Danny squeezed into the tiny single seat in the back of the cab.
“You good back there?” Matt asked. The kid was shooting up. Soon he’d be too big.
Danny nodded.
“Seatbelt,” Matt instructed, glancing at Leo to make sure he put his back on. Once everyone was buckled in, he headed toward Frankie’s in Waterbury. It was the only place they could meet that he was positive Rowan wouldn’t go. She might run to Starbucks again or even a book store, but she hated the Chase Avenue traffic. Not that he could blame her. The city was still widening it and the construction choked up the already congested street. Plus, with the holiday shopping rush, it was even worse than usual. Rowan didn’t have the patience for standstill traffic. Matt wasn’t even sure he did. For the first time in months, he wished he had a cigarette.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Leo stick one between his lips.
He yanked it out of the kid’s mouth and tossed it out the window before Danny could see it.
“What—?!” Leo squawked.
Matt jerked his chin in the direction of the backseat and gave Leo a stern look.
“Oh.” Leo actually looked apologetic.
When their dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer, Danny had begged Matt to quit smoking. He’d kept his promise—and tried to shield Danny from other smokers. It bothered his little brother more than usual, and maybe it was a pointless thing to do. There were lots of smokers in the world, and not all of them would get sick with cancer. Danny was probably old enough to know that cigarettes weren’t the true enemy. But still.
The line of cars moved forward a whole ten feet. Matt could see the Frankie’s sign up ahead.
“We could literally ditch this truck and walk over there,” Leo grumbled. “I’m starving.”
Too true. “Me too,” Matt said in solidarity. “But we’re almost there, right Danny?” He smiled at his little brother in the rearview mirror.
Danny crossed his arms. “This traffic sucks.”
Apparently Danny was entering his own surly teenage years.
After what seemed like a century, the line of vehicles moved up enough so that Matt could take the left-hand turn into the restaurant parking lot. He hadn’t had Frankie’s in years. The hot dog franchise and its founding family was a Connecticut celebrity. It’d started off small during the Great Depression and quickly grown into an empire. Occasionally, Matt surmised, good things did come out of the struggling city of Waterbury.
He parked the pickup in the angled slots and jumped out. Too bad he couldn’t tell Rowan where he was. She loved Frankies’s fried broccoli.
Matt, Leo, and Danny strode inside in single file. He was the last in, and as he watched the two boys, a swell of emotion surged through his chest. They were slowly but surely becoming familiar with each other—becoming family. Maybe it was too soon to jump to such things, but he could easily see them ten or more years in the future, doing brotherly things together like playing paintball or going camping.
“We gonna order, or what?” Leo asked, bursting Matt’s daydream.
“Sir?” The young woman behind the counter lifted her eyebrows expectantly. Her brown eyes sparkled in merry amusement. The name tag on her uniform read Joan.
“Sorry.” Matt motioned for Danny and Leo to give their orders, then added his own. Again he thought of Rowan and her love for fried broccoli. If she ever found out he had some without her, she’d make him do the inventory again. Or worse. He gulped. It was a risk he was going to have to take.
It was worth it.
As they waited for their orders, the door opened and Charlotte breezed inside. She ran straight to the counter, throwing her arms around Joan’s neck. Her bright red hair bounced on her shoulders as the two women embraced.
“I haven’t seen you in years!”
“How the hell are you?!”
Matt smiled. It was truly magical, how even the smallest moments seemed so beautiful around this time of year.
“Why are you grinning like a lunatic?” Danny elbowed him.
He sighed. Somehow he was going to have to change the Debbie Downer duo’s moods.
Once the four of them had their food, they squeezed into the only table available.
“Move your elbows,” Danny said to Leo.
“I can’t help that I’m so big and need the space,” the older boy retorted. “Some of us still have growing to do.”
Danny scowled at him.
Charlotte gave Matt a knowing look from across the table. “So,” she said in between bites of her chili dog, “what have we got?”
“Absolutely nothing, which is why we’re all here.” He glanced from face to face. “You guys are just as close to Rowan as I am, if not more. I need ideas. And fast.”
“How about you ask her to marry you?” Leo smirked.
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Cliché. You should know better than that, Leo. Rowan needs romance and swooning.”
He made a gagging face, Danny joining him.
Matt chewed a bite of his hot dog, trying not to regret bringing the boys along.
“I think,” Charlotte said, “you’re trying too hard to come up with one great big grand gesture.”
“You’re probably right,” he admitted.
“So let’s focus on finding little things, gifts that she can enjoy or use.” Charlotte pulled a notebook out of her bag.
Matt stared.
“What?”
“I just didn’t realize you carried a purse.”
She lifted an eyebrow at him. “So?”
“Rowan refuses to.”
Charlotte snorted. “Rowan is Rowan. The girl uses her car as a giant bag. Have you seen what’s in her center console?”
He shook his head.
“Dude. She has an entire extra stash of makeup in there, a Phillips and a flathead, a flashlight, and even a wooden spoon. God only knows what she’d need a spoon for while out and about.”
Matt grinned. That sounded like his girl.
“And don’t even get me started on the capsule wardrobe in her trunk. The only reason she doesn’t carry a purse is because there isn’t one on this planet that she can fit her entire life into.” Charlotte tapped her notebook. “Now, let’s focus.” She opened it to a page with a neat list.
“Wow.”
“Girl’s my best friend, Matty. You came to the right person.”
“The OCD person,” Leo said. He and Danny snickered.
Charlotte tossed them an icy look. “Now, I’ve divided this into categories: things Rowan has mentioned she wants, things I’ve noticed she really needs, and things she doesn’t need but would be really nice.”
Matt peered at the list. “UGGs?”
“Every girl needs UGGs, Matty.”
/> “She already has three pairs. And stop calling me Matty.”
“Yeah,” Danny said. “That’s my name for him.”
Charlotte held up her hands. “Okay, okay. Jeez.” She turned to Matt. “But seriously, these UGGs have a rubber sole with tread. She won’t go slipping and sliding in them.” She beamed.
“Okay. Boots. Great. What am I, her grandma?”
“You’re her boyfriend. It’s your job to keep our clumsy girl safe. And warm. Which brings me to this coat.” She tapped the notebook. “Ro’s allergic to wool, so she has a super hard time finding cute and warm outerwear. But I found one that’s lined with sherpa.”
His eyebrows knit together. “Isn’t that wool?”
“Nope! Sherpa is polyester fleece. Fake,” she added when his confused expression deepened. “Good thing you have me.”
“Yeah. Good thing.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Danny and Leo roll their eyes in tandem. “All right, you two.”
Only Danny looked apologetic.
“Any ideas?”
Danny dunked a chicken tender in barbecue sauce that oozed out of its container. “A Starbucks gift card?”
“Traitor,” Leo muttered.
“That’s actually a good idea.” Matt reached for his phone to start his own list.
“I’m gonna one-up you,” Charlotte said, “and suggest you get her a French press and a five-pound bag of Starbucks coffee. Oh, and a bean grinder.” She tapped her bottom lip with her pen.
Matt tried to envision Rowan going through all of that every morning. She was the most morning person he’d ever met, but the image didn’t fit. “Yeah . . . I’m gonna stick with the gift card.”
“Fair enough.”
“Leo?” Matt nodded to Rowan’s youngest sibling. Even though the kid was annoyed—or at least pretending to be—he didn’t want him to feel left out of the conversation.
Shrugging, Leo crammed fries into his mouth.
“Really? Nothing at all?”
Leo shifted in his seat, the corners of his mouth turned down. “We don’t really do gifts in our house,” he said. His gaze lowered to his burger.
Just One More Christmas Page 2