The Christmas Confection (Hardman Holidays Book 6)

by Shanna Hatfield

  The morning passed in a blur as she worked to keep up with baking, dish washing, and waiting on customers. Whether Ethan had been there or not, they could really use a hired hand in the mornings. It seemed that the colder the weather, the more people who showed up, wanting a hot cup of coffee or tea and something warm from the oven to eat for breakfast.

  Elsa wondered if any of the young people in town would be interested in working for an hour or two before school started. It might be something she’d have to discuss with Ethan if their business continued to grow.

  The bell tinkling above the door drew her gaze to the portal as she hurried to restock a tray of apple fritters. In another hour, the lunch crowd would descend and she still needed to whip up something to go with the venison stew she planned to serve. She straightened as Fred walked inside, warming her with his smile.

  “Good morning, Mr. Decker. How does this day find you?” she asked as she finished with the fritters and shut the door to the glass-fronted case.

  “It finds me hungry for one of those fritters.” Fred pointed to the tray she’d just restocked and leaned closer to her. His voice dropped to a nearly provocative, husky level. “Actually, it has me hungry for two of them.” He winked at her and leaned back.

  The man had actually winked at her!

  Somewhat surprised, Elsa blinked at him twice before she gathered her wits and quickly set two fritters on a plate, sliding it across the counter to him. “Would you like a glass of milk or something hot to drink?”

  “Milk would be fine, Miss Lindstrom.” Fred glanced around, noticing he was the only one in the bakery. “Where is everyone?”

  “Oh, it was a busy morning. I think you arrived between the breakfast and lunch crowds.” Elsa nervously brushed her hands on her apron. “If you take a seat, I’ll be right out with your milk.”

  She poured a tall glass of cool milk for him and carried it to the table in the corner where he sat with his back to the wall. The thought of placing a sign on it, declaring it his table, flit through her mind and made her smile.

  He gave her an interested glance as she set the glass in front of him. “What made you smile, Miss Lindstrom?”

  “Me? Oh, nothing. I’ve just noticed you prefer this table above the others,” she said, gathering an armful of dirty dishes off a nearby table.

  “I suppose I do,” Fred said without offering any further explanation.

  Elsa returned to the kitchen, set the dishes in the sink to soak, and then slid pans of cornbread into the oven. She’d just set the lid back on the large pot of stew after giving it a good stir when the stovepipe creaked and groaned.

  Before she quite knew what had transpired, the pipe broke right above the top of the stove, scattering ashes and soot all over her kitchen.

  “Oh, no!” she yelped and reached to grab the section of broken pipe, burning her hand on the hot surface as it clattered to the floor.

  “Miss Lindstrom?” a male voice called, accompanied by the sound of thudding footsteps.

  She’d barely registered the fact she’d burned herself before Fred was there, settling a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  “Are you hurt? What happened?” he asked, glancing at the sooty mess that coated every surface in the kitchen, including Elsa.

  “The pipe. It just broke off and…” She swallowed hard, not sure if she was about to cry or launch into hysterical laughter.

  “Here, let me see,” Fred said, taking her hand and gently cradling it against his big palm. A jolt rocked from her fingers along her arm and all the way down to her toes at his touch. Her gaze dropped to where their hands connected, expecting to see some horrid wound for the flurry of sensations washing through her. A small blister rose from the burn on her palm, but nothing that warranted the weightless feeling in her stomach or the quaking in her knees.

  He led her over to the sink and ran cool water over the burn. When he seemed satisfied with his efforts, he lifted her palm to his lips and kissed the spot, his gaze holding hers the entire time.

  With a rascally grin, he winked at her again. “Better?”

  Too astounded by Fred and the broken pipe to be able to think, she merely nodded her head then turned to look at the disaster in her kitchen. “What am I going to do? I can’t believe this happened today. Ethan will never trust me to manage alone again.”

  “Is he helping Luke today?” Fred asked as he pulled a pair of worn leather gloves from his back pocket and slipped them on before picking up the stovepipe.

  “Yes. He was so excited to go and I never imagined the stove… that the pipe.” Elsa released a sigh as she looked over cookies and pies covered with soot and the frosted white cake that now looked as though it was chocolate. She turned to Fred. “Why did it just fall off like that?”

  “The pipe rusted along the back,” he said, holding the pipe and showing her the spot where it had rusted through. “Have you had problems with it?”

  “Well, yes, just recently. Ethan and I were planning to have it looked at, but we’ve been so busy. I never noticed it looking rusted.”

  “No, you wouldn’t have. The worst of the rust appears to have been along the back, right at the joint where you wouldn’t be able to see it.” He carried the pipe out the back door then returned and surveyed the damage to the kitchen. “What can I do to help?”

  “I couldn’t ask more of you, Mr. Decker. You’ve already provided much appreciated assistance.” Distraught by the state of her kitchen, Elsa twisted her apron in her hands, uncertain where to begin cleaning up the disaster.

  The bell above the door jangled and she cast a frantic glance that direction. “I can’t serve people in this mess. The only thing fit to be eaten is the stew and…”

  She lunged forward and snatched a dishtowel off the counter, yanking open the oven door. The pans of cornbread she withdrew were a perfect golden brown. “Stew and cornbread. That’s all I have today.”

  “That’ll have to do. I can carry the stew pot out front if you’ll bring the cornbread. We can dish the meal for people there without the soot getting in everything. After lunch, I’ll help you clean this mess.” Fred didn’t wait for her agreement before he hefted the big stewpot and carried it into the front of the bakery.

  Elsa had to hurry to place a folded towel on a table for him to set the pot on then scurried back to the kitchen for the cornbread. The dishes she’d just finished washing were filthy, but she found a stack of clean bowls in a cupboard and hastily rinsed a handful of clean spoons.

  With Fred’s help, she managed to serve the lunch crowd. When the last customer departed, she had nary a cookie or slice of undamaged pie left, but enough stew remained she filled a heaping bowl for Fred and gave him two large slices of cornbread.

  “Sit down and rest a minute, Miss Lindstrom,” Fred said, holding out a chair at his favored table. “You might as well eat something, too, because you’ve a long afternoon ahead of you.”

  “I don’t think… I should probably…” she muttered, but found herself seated across from Fred with a bowl of stew and a slice of his cornbread. She bowed her head and offered a word of thanks before plunging her spoon into the bowl and taking a bite.

  “Where’d you get the venison?” Fred asked as he ate his stew with a hearty appetite.

  “One of the bachelor farmers traded half a deer he’d shot for baked goods.” Elsa and Ethan were more than happy to accept the trade. Ethan wasn’t a good shot due to lack of practice and opportunity. Elsa couldn’t have killed an animal if her life depended on it.

  “I’d say he got the better end of that bargain.” Fred smirked as he spooned up a tender chunk of meat.

  “Ethan and I thought we got a good trade.” Elsa broke a piece of cornbread into her stew and stirred it around. “Mr. Decker, I truly can’t ask you to sacrifice more time to help me today. I’m sure you have responsibilities you need to see to that I’ve already kept you from.”

  Fred shook his head. “Actually, I was planning to head ho
me and do some work there. I spent the morning at the livery and this evening I’m helping the sheriff, but the afternoon I have to myself.”

  “I’m sure you have far better things to do than muck out that mess,” she said, waggling her spoon in the direction of the kitchen.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t miss helping you for anything, Miss Lindstrom. I’m hoping if I do, you might see fit to give me some of those cookies I’m so fond of.” He shot her a charming grin then spooned another bite of his stew.

  Her eyebrows lifted and she smiled coyly. “Which cookies, Mr. Decker? You seem quite fond of many.”

  He grinned again. “I am, but I really like the oatmeal cookies you make with the dried berries and nuts.”

  “I’m more than happy to make you a batch, but I can’t promise it will be today.”

  Fred grinned. “I’ll do my best to get the kitchen set to rights as quickly as possible.”

  While Elsa remained at the bakery, Fred took the broken stovepipe to the hardware store and purchased a new one with money Elsa insisted he take with him.

  He returned as she swept the last of the ashes off the floor. She knew it was pointless to try to clean until the new pipe was installed, but she couldn’t sit around and do nothing. She couldn’t wash the dishes, wipe down the soot-streaked walls, or scrub the counters, so she dumped out the ruined food, much to the delight of the dog and two cats that frequently prowled through the trash left in the alley.

  “What can I do to help?” Elsa asked, watching as Fred maneuvered the new pipe into place. Rather than hook an old piece to the new, he’d returned with enough pipe to replace the whole thing.

  Fred stood on a stool, shoving the new piece of pipe through the ventilation hole in the wall near the ceiling. He’d already set the long stovepipe into place and now worked to install the shorter piece that made a ninety-degree angle and carried the smoke outside. He glanced down at Elsa and shook his head. The warmth in his amazing blue eyes made her lean against the counter behind her for support.

  “I don’t want you to get all dirty, Miss Lindstrom. I can take care of this,” he assured her then lifted his gaze back to the pipe in his hands.

  Elsa studied his movements, entranced by the way the cotton of his shirt stretched across the muscles of his shoulders and arms. The view of his backside wasn’t bad either.

  Both appalled and amused by her thoughts, Elsa abruptly turned away. She carried another stool over to the stove, setting it on the opposite side from where Fred worked. She climbed up on it and stood with her arms outstretched, reaching to steady the pipe. “I can hold this while you get it situated.”

  Fred tossed her another glance, but nodded and continued working in silence. A satisfied grunt accompanied the metallic clang when the pipe finally aligned and everything was as it should be. He smiled at Elsa.

  “That ought to last you a good long while. You shouldn’t have to worry about ruining any more of your delicious food with soot or ashes.”

  Dazed by his smile, by something intriguing and mesmerizing gleaming in his eyes, Elsa leaned back then lost her balance.

  She swayed precariously, afraid to grab onto the stovepipe for support. Her arms churned in the air as she fought to keep her balance. Just when she was certain she’d fall to the floor, a pair of strong hands clasped her waist and lifted her from the stool.

  Her hands settled on Fred’s broad shoulders while her heart flopped around in her chest like a fish yanked from the water onto a creek bank.

  Caught by surprise and discomfited by the feel of his hard muscles beneath her palms, she sucked in a gasp. In no rush for him to turn her loose, Elsa stared into his face as he slowly lowered her. His hot gaze fused to hers as the distance between her face and his lessened. Unexpected moisture flooded her mouth and Elsa experienced a surge of heat spiraling from her mid-section to every extremity.

  When Fred’s lips hovered just an inch or two from hers, Elsa held her breath, sure that he meant to kiss her.

  Just as her eyelashes fluttered closed, he gently set her on her feet, but didn’t release his hold. Elsa wanted to stand on her tiptoes and press her lips to his, but she dropped her hands and hurried to take a step back.

  A flash of disappointment crossed Fred’s features before he summoned a nonchalant grin and moved away from her. “I’ll clean out the stove before we build a new fire,” he said, kneeling to begin the task. “I want to make sure it works properly before I leave.”

  “But Mr. Decker, you’ve been so kind, so helpful, I…”

  When he turned and looked at her, she lost her train of thought. How had this man remained single? With those intriguing blue eyes, that head full of tousled hair, his muscular form, and soft lips that looked so kissable, she couldn’t understand how some Hardman girl hadn’t already claimed Fred as her own.

  Sure, Elsa had heard whispers about Fred’s father being an outlaw, but Joe Decker had been hauled off to prison years ago. Besides, what his father had done or who he was held no bearing on who Fred was or the kind of man he’d grown into.

  In spite of a few gossiping townspeople determined to dwell in the past, Elsa thought Fred was one of the finest men she’d ever met.

  She knew others felt the same. Fred was friends with Tom and Lila Grove, as well as the Granger and Guthry families. After all, she and Ethan rented their home from Adam and Tia Guthry and she knew they thought well of Fred.

  Alex and Arlan Guthry also seemed to be quite fond of him. She’d noticed Fred playing with their baby boy after church services several times. Alex, in particular, appeared to hold Fred in high regard. Elsa had heard from Ginny Granger Stratton that Fred had been among the students attending school when Alex first began teaching in Hardman. Apparently, he’d bedeviled Alex for a while before having a change of heart. Rumors alluded his change in behavior had something to do with his father, but Elsa thought it rude to press for more information.

  It really wasn’t any of her business, anyway.

  What was her business was the undeniable attraction for Fred currently plaguing her. With a busy bakery to run and dreams of her own to pursue, the last thing she needed was to have her head turned by a handsome young man.

  But if she was going to allow it to happen, which she most certainly would not, she sure wouldn’t mind if the one doing the turning was Fred.

  She stood back and watched as he worked. Watched the muscles bunch and flex beneath the cotton of his shirt. Watched his long legs bend as he cleaned the firebox of the stove. Watched the sunlight streaming in the window cast a golden glow over his head, making her fingers itch to brush through the waves.

  When she couldn’t stand anymore, she went into the front of the bakery and wiped down the tables, polished the glass of her pastry cases, even swept off the front walk.

  By the time she regained control of her thoughts and senses, she returned to the kitchen to find Fred building a fire in the stove.

  He stood back and observed to make sure everything was in good working order before he washed off his soot-blackened hands at the sink.

  “Here,” Elsa said, hurrying to hand him a dishtowel to dry his hands.

  Fred raised an eyebrow at the sight of the snowy-white towel she held out to him and shook his head. “You’ll never get that clean if I touch it, Miss Lindstrom. I think it best if I just, um…” He looked around then wiped his hands along the front of his denims.

  Elsa shook her head. “I assure you, Mr. Decker, I’ve had far worse than a little soot smeared on my towels. You should see the mess strawberry syrup can make.”

  “Can’t say as I’d mind seeing that, as long as I got a taste,” Fred teased, picking up a rag and starting to wipe down a cupboard.

  “Mr. Decker!” Elsa said, grabbing his arm. “I must insist you go now. You’ve wasted your entire afternoon helping me and haven’t had a minute of rest. Won’t you need to report to the sheriff’s office soon?”

  Fred glanced at the clock on the wall. “Not for anot
her hour. I’ve still got time to help you, run home and change, and get back to town.”

  “Please, Mr. Decker? You’ve been such a big help to me today, and I sincerely regret monopolizing so much of your time. I assure you I’m quite capable of handling the remainder of the work required to clean up this mess.”

  He dropped the rag on the counter and studied her a moment. He tipped his head slightly to the left then gave her what she could only think of as a rascally grin. “The faster I help you clean the kitchen, the sooner I’ll get my cookies.”

  Elsa laughed. “Indeed, Mr. Decker.” She picked up the rag and tossed it to him. “Suit yourself, but I can’t promise you’ll get those cookies any sooner than tomorrow.”

  “That’s fine with me, as long as I get them sometime.”

  As soon as the kitchen was set to rights, the first thing Elsa planned to bake was a batch of cookies for Fred. After all, without him, she wouldn’t be able to bake anything at all.

  No matter how disconcerting she found his presence, a pang of regret sliced through her when he looked at the clock and sighed.

  “I really do need to go, Miss Lindstrom. Will you be okay the rest of the evening?” he asked as he picked up his hat and backed toward the kitchen door.

  “I’ll be perfectly fine, Mr. Decker. Ethan should be back before supper, at least I assume he will.” Elsa dropped a soot-blackened rag in the sink and hurriedly rinsed her hands. “I can’t thank you enough for your help. Are you certain a batch of cookies is enough repayment for your time and all the work you’ve done here today?”

  “Well…” Fred gave her an odd look as he stood in the doorway with autumn sunshine spilling all around him. “There are two other things I’d like.”

  “Two?” Elsa asked, wiping her hands on her apron and facing him. “What might those two things be?” She anticipated him asking for a batch of rolls or perhaps a chocolate cake.

  “My first request is simple. Please call me Fred. I’d like to think, after all this, we’re friends and all my friends call me Fred.”