Chapter 4
Joey
Gingerbread Tasting
I’m finding it more and more difficult to keep Emma at arm’s length. Watching her show the kids how to decorate the gingerbread men, draws me in like a moth to a flame. She’s patient, kind, funny, and obviously a brilliant baker. These are the best gingerbread men I’ve ever tasted.
She shows the kids how to make the cookie look festive. “After you put the frosting on, you can add sprinkles or M&M’s. You can choose the white, red, or green icing.”
“I’m gonna use lots of sprinkles!” Katie shouts excitedly. No doubt Emma’s going to have to purchase more sprinkles after Katie is done decorating her gingerbread men.
Scott’s eyebrows furrow in concentration. “Do you have any chocolate chips? Those would make good buttons.” The kid takes everything so seriously—always wanting to excel. Gosh, he reminds me of ...me.
“Excellent suggestion! Let me go get some,” Emma enthuses.
After she leaves the room, I look both kids firmly in the eye. “Don’t go overboard with the toppings. Emma’s being very generous to let you decorate these cookies. We don’t want to use up all her sprinkles.” I direct that comment to my niece.
Scott nods solemnly, while Katie makes up a song about sprinkles and fairies. She’s determined to have a fairy in the gingerbread house. All I can do is shake my head in amusement.
Emma flits back into the room and I take in her outfit. She’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt covered with an apron sporting the bakery’s logo. It hits me how pretty she is, with her brunette hair and brown eyes. I suddenly see my “frenemy” in a new light, and I don’t think there’s any going back.
Emma addresses Scott and Katie, “Kids, go ahead and start decorating. Then we’ll select a house design.” She turns to me. “Shall we have another cookie and discuss strategy?”
Wow! She’s really taking this contest seriously.
“Sure.” I never turn down free cookies, it’s a policy I live by. When she plops down in a chair beside mine and pulls it closer to me, I suddenly find myself short of breath.
Swiping her phone, she begins flipping through several photos of gingerbread houses. I squint at the small screen, realizing how intricate some of them look. Who knew gingerbread house making is an art form? They’re made from cookies for Pete’s sake.
“A lot of these are too difficult,” she says pointing to one that looks like a Victorian mansion and another one that looks like a ski lodge. She pauses on a picture of a traditional-looking gingerbread house and taps on the photo. “I like the simple shape of this house, no tricky angles to deal with.”
The house has four sides and a roof, how much simpler can you get? “Isn’t it kind-of, um, boring?” I blurt out without thinking how it sounds.
Her posture stiffens.
Oops! Open mouth, insert foot. I could have phrased that remark better.
“You realize the walls and roof are held together by icing , right?” she says in a chilly tone.
I quickly backpedal. “You’re right. A simple design will ensure success. We don’t want the house to collapse!”
She ignores my attempt to brown-nose, instead expanding the photo to show more of the details. “We can use candy decorations to make the house look like a Swiss chalet and not boring .”
Her jibe hits hard. I wish I could take back my ill-thought-out remark. “I like the roof, especially the gumdrops across the edge.” A barely perceptible, cool nod acknowledges my comment.
“Notice the peppermint candies that look like windows. I can also make some trees from marzipan.” She trails her index finger across the screen, pointing out all these fine details in the photo.
“Honestly, Emma, you’re the expert. Please recommend whatever design is something we can accomplish in the time we have to work with. You’ll be working with three rookies.” I shoot her a flirty wink, hoping she’s forgiven me for the comment about this design being boring.
Her eyes lock with mine and I feel a jolt of attraction zip from my head to my toes. Time stands still as we gaze at each other. If I leaned in a few inches, I could touch my lips to hers...
“I want a fairy house!” A shrill voice breaks the moment. Katie is standing beside us, her hands on her little hips with a huge glower on her face. For being so tiny, she sure can act like someone twice her size. I brace for the meltdown that’s sure to happen.
“What if we make you your own fairy house?” Emma suggests gently. “We’ll also sneak a fairy into the house we’re making for the contest.”
“A fairy house for me!” Katie squeals. A broad smile crosses my niece’s face. She wraps her skinny arms around Emma’s neck and says, “Thank you.”
Emma returns the hug as I blink back tears. For a grown man who plays a rather violent sport, I’m sure getting soft around my niece, nephew, and this beautiful baker. If my teammates saw me now, they’d tease me to no end.
Surreptitiously swiping the moisture out of the corner of my eye, I catch Emma looking at me and my neck heats. I clear my throat, “Kids, I think we’ve decided on a house design. Emma, why don’t you show them the photo?”
Scott and Katie huddle around Emma as they chatter excitedly about the photo. My heart does another flip in my chest at the sight.
After answering the kids’ questions about the house design, Emma turns to me. “I think we should do a trial build to make sure the icing holds everything together. And the kids can practice decorating the house. When is a good time for a trial build?”
“I have a hockey game tomorrow night, so how about Thursday night?” It’s several days away but should still leave us ample time to build the test house, make any necessary adjustments, and then build the real gingerbread house for the contest.
Emma agrees and I find myself already looking forward to seeing her again. I belatedly wish Scott hadn’t mentioned the gingerbread contest because I’m going to find it more and more difficult to keep Emma in the “frenemy zone.” Since my goal is to enter the NHL draft after this semester, it’s a bad idea to become serious about a woman at this point. She owns a bakery and won’t want to follow me to a city clear across the country. My brain screams trouble, but my heart ignores the message.