by Jana Aston
I eye the other contestants while I work. The Great Lakes Holiday Pie Champ looks far too smug for my liking. The woman from Ann Arbor appears to be baking a ginger-apple pie. She didn't pre-cook the apples though so I think she'll be in trouble because those apples won't be tender enough with the amount of time we have. I can't tell what the cupcake celebrity chef is baking for this round from my station but she doesn't seem under any stress.
Keller is totally at ease. He's already slid his gingersnap pie crust into the oven and moved on to the butterscotch cream filling. He winks at me when I peek a glance in his direction. I blush and turn my attention back to my own workstation. My jackal is an incorrigible flirt.
The remaining minutes fly by. This is it. This pie is the final obstacle separating me from the finale and the chance to compete for the title of Great Gingerbread Bake-Off Champion and the ten-thousand-dollar prize.
Baking can be tricky, even for an experienced baker. My crust could crack or the filling could ooze all over the plate. Things that would be okay if I didn't need to plate three perfect, camera-ready slices. So far so good though. My pie looks perfect as it sits at my workstation cooling, but the real test will be when I slice into it, which I'll do at the very last moment. I want all the setting time I can get. Eye on the clock, I grab the mixing bowl I put into the freezer fifteen minutes ago in preparation for making whipped cream. I'll add the tiniest hint of cinnamon for both the taste and the gorgeous speckled color it'll provide. And the colder the cream the easier it is to whip. I picked up the chilled bowl trick years ago back when I was twelve and watching the Food Network for fun.
When we reach the two-minute warning I slice into my pie and... it's perfect. I swiftly plate three slices and top them with a perfect dollop of whipped cream just as the clock runs out and the show hostess cries out, "Time’s up!"
Next up we film the segment where the judges taste each of our submissions while we all stand and politely listen to their critiques. I've always hated this portion of baking contests because clearly the contestants are meant to play along as if they weren't just given seventeen minutes and no butter to complete a challenge. But playing along is part of the gig, I guess, ’cause we all do it.
Two eliminations this round. The first to go is the celebrity chef with the Food Network show featuring her cupcake shop. Next off is the Ann Arbor Gingerbread Festival champion.
I nearly slump against my work station in relief when it's over.
I've made it through.
I'm a finalist on The Great Gingerbread Bake-Off. I've got a one in three chance of winning this competition and the prize money, which means Ginger's Bake Shop is within my grasp. It's so close I can taste it.
It tastes like sugar and spice and everything nice, in case you're wondering.
I can nearly taste Keller James too, because I intend to kiss him again the first chance I get. Which might seem counterintuitive because he's my competition for the grand prize. It's me versus Keller and the Great Lakes Holiday Pie Champion, so I should be thinking about ways to best him, not ways to kiss him, but the heart wants what the heart wants. Besides, Keller being in the finale means he'll need to stay in town for a bit longer, so my heart is feeling very optimistic.
Kissing the competition seems dicey, doesn't it? I've never been a dicey girl, either. But I kinda like this new naughty elf version of myself.
Chapter 10
Keller texts me that very night. It's a bit late. I've already turned off the lights and I'm snuggled beneath a blanket on my sofa watching old episodes of Brunch, Biscuits & Tea with only the lighting of my Christmas tree to light the room.
Yeah, yeah, I've got it bad.
Keller: Gingersnap, you awake?
Ginger: Yes...
Keller: I've got something you might be interested in.
Yeah, he does. He's about to proposition me for a booty call, right? For sure that's what's about to happen. Or a torrid sext exchange. I hold my breath while I tap out a reply, typing and deleting a few times, unsure how flirty I should be. “Show it to me, big boy” is the most clever response I can think of, which isn't saying much. Clearly my naughty elf persona needs work.
Ginger: Oh, yeah?
Keller: Hold on. I'll send a pic.
Oh, my Santa Claus. He's going to send me a dick picture. Then he'll probably want me to send him a naughty picture in return. I glance down at my pajamas in horror. They're my favorite, a waffle knit covered in reindeer. I've had them since college and they definitely don't belong in a sexy selfie. Not that I've ever sent a sexy selfie before, not that kind anyway. What am I supposed to do? Just rip off my top and then pose naked in front of my Christmas tree while holding the camera at some kind of bizarre angle to make my boobs look good? Dang it, I'm not really sure how I feel about this. I should have spent the evening researching how to behave like a naughty elf instead of watching a bunch of Brunch, Biscuits & Tea episodes I've been hoarding on my DVR.
Except, wait.
What is this? Did he just send me... a picture of baked goods?
Keller: I was thinking of you so I made gingerbread scones with a lemon drizzle.
Ginger: Get over here.
Keller: This late? Gingersnap, I'm not sure you respect my virtue...
Gah, this jackal.
Ginger: Of course I do!
Keller: Glad to hear it, for I am a gentleman and I would never dare make assumptions of your character.
Ginger: STOP REGENCY-ROMANCING ME AND BRING ME A SCONE.
Keller: So spicy tonight, Gingersnap. Open your door.
Oh, my word. He's here? I scramble off the couch and fling open the door, my heart beating in nerves and excitement. And there he is. Keller on my doorstep holding a baking container I know he's nabbed from the Busy Bee Inn.
"Hey." Keller smiles, and just seeing his smile and hearing his voice makes me light up. "Aren't you something?" he adds, running his gaze over me from head to toe. Right. I forgot about the reindeer pajamas. I'm sure the fuzzy reindeer socks aren't helping the visual any.
"Sorry." I shrug. "I'm adorable. Chronically adorable. I don't even own any sexy pajamas that I could slip into to seduce you. I own a red bra, but I don't have any matching underwear so it'd be a red bra and these flannel reindeer pajama bottoms, which no-one really wants to see together, I don't think. Or I could put on the red bra and a pair of cotton underwear with candy canes printed all over them. But they don't really match."
"Uh-huh." Keller nods, a small smile playing at his lips. "Can I come in?"
Oh, goodness me. I've left him standing on my doorstep in the cold while I blabbed on about my underwear. Also of note, I've let all the cold air into the house and I'm not wearing a bra, red or otherwise, under my knit pajamas.
"Yes! Please," I add, stepping aside so Keller can enter before closing the door tightly behind him. And just like that, we're alone. Unattended. No cameras. No Pete to bust in and interrupt. No nosy production assistants trying to eavesdrop. Just me and Keller. In my house. Where sex things could happen.
I feel totally awkward.
How do naughty elves do it? They'd probably just start ripping their reindeer pajamas off in the entryway without a single word. Or shove him against the wall and kiss him, scones smashed into smithereens between them. Instead I ask Keller if I can take his coat. I'll probably offer him tea next.
"Would you like some tea?"
Yup. There it is.
"I'd love some tea, Gingersnap. Though I do hope you have a kettle. I always cringe in horror when you Americans use the microwave to heat water for tea." He makes a play at shuddering as I take the container of scones from his hand. They're still warm and I relax a bit. Keller's just here for a biscuit and tea. I'm probably imagining all the torrid sex stuff. I mean really, he never once insinuated anything filthy. That was all me. In my own head. He's literally brought me scones, which isn't exactly a seduction technique, I don't think.
Keller follows me to the kitche
n and watches as I fill my tea kettle with water and put it on to boil. More accurately, he pokes around my kitchen, which I understand. I'd poke around his kitchen if I had the chance too. I love seeing what people use the most. Which are their favorite bowls and mixing spoons. If they use cast-iron baking dishes or glass. Nonstick skillets or stainless steel. If they've got a warming drawer or an ice maker. All of it fascinates me.
"This house is a rental, so this isn't my dream kitchen, but it's cozy and it does the job."
"What would your dream kitchen have? This one is pretty great," he adds with a glance around my tidy but effective space. I've got an eclectic mix of high-end and vintage. The open shelves are filled with stacks of vintage mixing bowls, with an assortment of Christmas mixed in. Santa mugs, reindeer salt and pepper shakers, an old wooden sign advertising twenty-five-cent cups of hot chocolate.
"A great big farmhouse sink. I don't even care if it's cliché, I've always wanted one."
"It'd be cast-iron, not stainless," Keller fills in, pulling a couple of Christmas mugs off my shelf.
"Yes! A single bowl, big enough to bathe babies in."
Gah. Why did I bring up babies? I'm trying to seduce him, not make him think I'm trying to lock him down for diaper duty. A naughty elf would want a farmhouse sink to clean sex toys, not babies. Actually a naughty elf would never have brought up a farmhouse sink in the first place. I do my best not to sigh as I ask him if he wants to see the rest of my house. I've got to get him out of my adorable kitchen.
Except when we walk into my family room I forget I've left Brunch, Biscuits & Tea playing on the television. Keller starts laughing the moment he sees himself on screen. Great. Now I look like a stalker. With all the threat of a tiny kitten that shows up on your doorstep and refuses to leave.
"Um..." I stumble for something to say as I grab the remote. "This must have just come on. I've got the Food Network on all the time, I hardly even notice what's playing anymore!" I jab at the remote until the television turns off. Now it's even darker in here, because the only lighting remaining is my tree and the light filtering in from the kitchen.
"Gingersnap." Keller closes the distance between us and takes the remote out of my hand, tossing it onto the couch. He keeps my hand in his though, tugging me another inch closer. "I think you've got a bit of a crush on me."
I mean, duh.
"I find it charming. You're adorable."
Ugh. Is this the part where he rejects me? Tells me he thinks of me like an adorable little sister? I don't think so.
"I'm not adorable," I announce, and then I give him a little shove so that he topples back onto the couch. "I'm a vixen. Ignore the pajamas. Think of me as a naughty elf," I instruct as I straddle him on the couch.
He looks surprised for a brief moment but then he's smiling again. But I'm undeterred, so I slide one hand under his shirt, searching for his belt buckle at the same time as I grab a handful of his hair in the other hand and then lean in and kiss him.
"I'm not adorable. Let's hate-fuck."
Keller pauses, pulling back far enough to look at my face, his own expression one of confusion. "Hate-fuck? Do you dislike me, Ginger?"
"No! I've got an insane crush on you just like you said. Okay? But I know I probably remind you of your best friend's little sister and you think I'm too adorable to sleep with. But I'm not. I'm quite naughty." I pause here, not wanting to oversell or lie. "Reasonably naughty," I amend.
"Ginger." Keller stills my hand on his belt, waiting until he's got my full attention. "I've never had a single sisterly thought about you."
"Oh."
"It's true I find you adorable. But as it turns out, I find your brand of adorable very, very sexy."
"Oh," I say again, but this time with a bit more hope in my tone.
"And I've got more than a crush on you, Gingersnap. So I'm not sure a hate-fuck would be remotely possible."
"Right," I agree, wiggling a bit on his lap. This seems like a lot of talking when I think we're both in agreement that we should be naked.
"Was that... something you're interested in?" He's still holding my hand hostage, but he's rubbing reassuring circles against my skin so I feel somewhat okay that he's stopped me from taking off his pants.
"Um, I mean..." I pause. "I was mostly just trying to seduce you. Plus I've never done that before so it seemed like something I could check off my bucket list."
"Hmm," Keller murmurs in my ear as he presses a trail of kisses against my neck. "So what kind of things have you done then, you naughty elf?"
"You know, the regular kinds of things."
"The regular kinds?"
"Yup. All the regular stuff."
"Hmm," he murmurs again, but he releases my hand and makes no objection when I go back to unbuckling his belt. His own hand slides up and down my thigh as he captures my lips with his own and kisses me nearly senseless.
The kettle, however, is a cockblocking jerk because it chooses this moment to start whistling. Loudly. I groan in dismay as I disentangle myself from Keller's arms and stand and dash into the kitchen, silently cursing my tea kettle. Also, not for nothing, but if we'd microwaved a couple of mugs of water we wouldn't have even heard the microwave ding and we could be having sex right now. Instead, now I've actually got to serve tea. Right? I pull two teabags out of the vintage sugar canister I keep them in with a sigh.
"What are you doing?" Keller is behind me, arms sliding around my waist as he bends to nip at my earlobe with his teeth.
"Making tea?" I answer, but I phrase it as more of a question because honestly I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing right now.
"Really?" His answer comes out as a laugh, his breath warm against my neck as he kisses the delicate spot just behind my ear.
"You said you wanted tea! With properly boiled water." Now I'm flustered. His lips and hands are all kinds of distracting. "I don't know what I'm doing, actually," I add, turning to face him. And then his lips are back on mine and it feels like they were always meant to be there. Tasting, touching, exploring. Has a kiss ever felt this good? Has an embrace ever felt this right? Reindeer pajamas be damned, everything about this moment is perfect.
And then it doesn't matter that I'm wearing old reindeer pajamas because ninety seconds later they're in a heap on my bedroom floor.
Chapter 11
He's perfect. He doesn't even make fun of my fuzzy reindeer socks. Or my underwear covered in tiny gingerbread men. I'd actually forgotten I was even wearing those. I'm not sure he notices either, to be honest. He's too busy caressing every inch of me as if I'm the sexiest vixen he's ever met.
"Ginger, please tell me your entire collection of panties look like these."
Okay, so maybe he has noticed.
"Only the Christmas ones," I manage to squeak out. It's hard to focus when he's asking me questions between flicking my nipples with his tongue and sliding his hand between my legs.
"Christmas has always been my favorite of the holidays," he tells me as he slides the gingerbread men over my hips.
"Mine too, mine too." Naked Christmas is my new favorite holiday. I've got Keller's pants undone but they're still on. I can feel his erection straining to free itself of the denim but somehow he doesn't seem to feel the same urgency that his dick and I do because I'm the only one doing any work to get his pants off.
"These are in my way," I mutter, as I do my best to shove the pants down his hips. My arms aren't nearly long enough to make any real progress.
"Are they?" Keller kisses his way back up my ribcage, a smile on his lips at my distress. "Are you always in such a hurry, Gingersnap?" Then he sucks one of my nipples between his lips and I sorta forget what I was complaining about.
We make out like teenagers with no fear of being caught. As if everything is new, every touch thrilling and electrifying and undiscovered. And it feels that way, with Keller. Somehow both comforting and familiar, but exciting and new. As if we were always meant to end up in this moment. Like ev
erything else between us, there's an element of kismet. Sexually we fall into place in a way that's both comforting and hotter than anything I've ever experienced.
"You're in charge, naughty elf." Keller winks as he rolls us over so I'm on top. "Have your way with me."
"I'm in charge?" I blink at him, confused for a moment at this change of pace.
"You're not afraid of taking the lead, are you? I thought a naughty vixen such as yourself would enjoy the challenge."
"Of course not," I assure him. And I'm not, not with Keller. Besides, I quite like the view from here, the moonlight spilling in from the window, illuminating his face enough for me to enjoy the way he's looking at me. The sparkle of his eyes as he takes me in, the swipe of his tongue across his bottom lip. This feels perfect, not an ounce of awkwardness or shyness between us. So I grin as I tug his pants free, tossing them to my bedroom floor, his belt buckle making a clank when it hits the ground. "I'm going to buy you Christmas boxers," I tell him as I divest him of his plain black pair, raking my fingernails lightly across his abdomen. "A dozen ridiculously adorable pairs."
"I'll wear them all year if it pleases you." He's even more agreeable than usual with my hand wrapped around the length of him. I like the idea of him wearing ridiculous boxers I've picked out. I like the idea that he's thinking about all year even better. But I like the size of him in my hand most of all. I straddle his hips, hand still wrapped around him, running my palm up and down his length.