Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Eli managed to leave Home Depot with everything on Aileen’s list plus three extra boxes of lights he did not need but couldn’t resist, then drove back to the bakery pretending he was not replaying a two-minute interaction as though it was cinematic evidence of his romantic potential.
His palm still tingled.
It was stupid. Ridiculous.
And he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
The road from Home Depot to Mapleford’s town center wound past pine groves and houses decorated as if every resident had signed a legally binding agreement to out-Christmas their neighbors, and everyone was starting early.
Inflatable snowmen bowed politely as he passed.
A pair of golden retrievers in matching holiday bandanas watched him from a porch.
The air smelled faintly of chimney smoke and pine.
And every time he tried to focus on the road, his brain insisted on looping back to You looked cute.
Cute.
He hadn’t been called cute by a handsome stranger in… well, a long time.
He pulled into the bakery’s back parking spot, grabbed the bags of lights, and marched inside like a man who was not thinking about sawdust caught in hair, storm-colored eyes, and a great line.
Aileen was waiting.
“Who’s minding the store?” he asked.
“Sam, but he finishes in half an hour. He can cope with the morning crowd while I do stuff back here.” She turned from the mixer, her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in predatory big-sister fashion. “You took forever. So… what’s his name?”
Eli froze, the keys to his car still in hand. “I was gone forty minutes.”
“Exactly,” she said. “The store is ten minutes away. So you either got lost, or you got flirted with.” Her eyes gleamed. “I’m going with the latter.”
He dumped the lights onto the prep counter. “His name,” he enunciated in a flat tone, “is none of your business.”
Aileen gasped. “You know his name? Oh my God.”
Eli gritted his teeth. “He told me because that is what people do before they leave.”
“Leave you or leave the aisle?”
He shot her a look, but it was plain it sailed right over her head.
“Wow.” She leaned an elbow onto the counter, her chin resting in her flour-dusted hand. “Was he hot?”
“Aileen.”
She cackled in triumph. “That’s a yes. You only say my name like that when you’re trying to hide things from me.”
“He grabbed my hand,” Eli blurted, immediately regretting it.
Her eyes went huge. “He what?”
“It wasn’t—” He rubbed a hand over his face. “It wasn’t like that.”
Aileen rolled her eyes. “Oh please. A hot man grabbed your hand in public and gave you his name? In Mapleford? That’s practically a marriage proposal.”
“It was just a weird moment,” Eli insisted. “He panicked.”
“And reached for your hand.” Her lips twitched. “Interesting choice.”
“He asked me to pretend to be his boyfriend,” Eli added before his brain could stop him.
Aileen made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a shriek. “Eli Winters, you had a full rom-com meet-cute and you’re acting as if he asked for the time.”
“He lied about having an ex. Does that sound like someone I should be interested in?”
“Of course he lied.” She waved a dismissive hand. “He saw someone he liked and then spun a story. That’s flirting with extra steps. He gets points for thinking on his feet.”
“It wasn’t flirting,” Eli muttered, untangling a string of lights with unnecessary aggression.
“Then why are you turning pink?”
He dropped the lights. “I am not—”
“You are,” she sang. “You’re blushing like a teenager.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Do you want these lights hung or not?”
“I want a full play-by-play,” she said. “But yes, hang the lights while you tell me everything. And I mean everything.”
“You might wanna rethink that last part. We’ve been down this road before.”
Aileen’s eyes glinted. “Yeah, but I’m in safe territory. Unless you both did something unquestionable in the middle of Home Depot? In which case you don’t need to tell me that part, because word will get around fast.” She pointed to the door that led into the shop. “Thataway, slave.”
He grabbed his armfuls of lights and his power bank, and trudged into the warm, fragrant bakery.
Sam, a guy who looked all of twelve years old but clearly wasn’t, was in full flow, dealing with the customers.
Aileen placed a step stool next to the front window, her grin still smug.
“So what was this guy’s name?”
“Noah Carter.”
She blinked. “Wow. You are one fast worker.”
“Will you quit that? He hit on me, remember?”
Aileen’s grin widened. “Well, you’ve got good taste in men. There are quite a few gay guys in Mapleford, and you just nabbed the cream of the crop.”
“I did not just—” Eli gave up. There was no way he was going to win this one.
He climbed the step stool, noting the hooks from previous light displays.
Outside, snowflakes drifted lazily, catching on the garlands strung between lampposts.
Mapleford’s main street was alive in that pre-season way he always remembered, bustling, humming, plastered with wreaths, and teetering on the edge of full holiday chaos.
He took a deep breath, forcing Noah’s smile out of his head.
Well, he tried to. Because some traitorous part of his brain kept replaying the way Noah had looked at him, bright-eyed, a little mischievous, a little vulnerable, and surprised as though he hadn’t expected Eli to say yes.
Where do I know you from, Noah Carter?
If Aileen knew him, maybe Noah was local, and that meant Eli might have known him too, way back in the dim-and-distant past before he left Mapleford for the lure of Boston.
Not now. You have things to do. Lighting. Hooks. Bakery. Focus.
The bell over the front door jingled.
At the foot of the step stool, Aileen glanced toward the door and her eyes sparkled. “Well hello there, Noah.”
Aw fuck.
“Hi.”
Eli would have known that voice anywhere.
Aileen’s grin spread like butter melting over warm toast. “Are you here for something delicious and edible?” Her gaze flickered up to Eli, and he glared, then waited for the longest three seconds of his life before turning to look.
Noah stood inside the door, his cheeks flushed pink from the cold. He was wearing a teal beanie, a navy jacket, and the same carpenter‐meets-holiday-elf vibe he’d had earlier. His eyes found Eli immediately.
He froze.
Blushed.
Smiled.
Dammit.
“Hi.” Eli caught the step stool with one hand before he fell off it.
“Hey.” Noah gestured to the counter. “I came for—”
“Let me guess,” Eli interjected. “Croissants.”
Noah smiled. “What can I say? You made being paid in croissants sound really good.”
“Croissants. Totally plausible,” Aileen whispered, loud enough for exactly two people to hear. The last customers left the shop, and suddenly it was just the four of them, until Sam headed back into the kitchen.
Noah’s ears turned pink.
Eli descended the step stool and crossed his arms. “Seen any more exes around today?”
Noah groaned. “I deserved that.”
“Yes,” Eli said. “You did.”
“But to be fair,” Noah said, rubbing the back of his neck, “you really did save me from a crisis.”
“A crisis…” Aileen echoed. “In Home Depot. Terrifying.”
Noah laughed, his eyes crinkling. “Wreath selection is a delicate art. I panicked.”
“You panicked at a wreath and grabbed a stranger.” Eli gave a shrug. “That seems totally logical. Even if we were in the lighting section at the time and there wasn’t a wreath in sight.”
“It worked.” Noah’s eyes gleamed. “Didn’t it?”
Eli opened his mouth, then closed it, because yes, it had worked.
Too well.
He cleared his throat. “Do you two know each other?”
Aileen grinned. “We were in the same year at Mapleford High. Same class, actually.” She bit her lip. “Not that we’ve spoken all that much since then, beyond Noah coming in to feed his croissant habit.” She flashed Noah a smile. “I’m Eli’s older sister. I also double as keeper of all family gossip.”
“Aileen,” Eli ground out.
“And this is Noah Carter, town event coordinator, carpenter, and full-time embarrassment.” Her eyes gleamed. “Which we love. Chaos is very on-brand for Mapleford.”
Eli stared at them, horrified. “Aileen. Stop. Please.”
She ignored him. “So Noah, tell me, what brings you to the bakery besides the obvious?”
“The obvious?” Noah asked.
“My brother,” she said with a grin.
Eli considered walking directly into the industrial freezer.
Noah blinked, then laughed. It was a startled sound, as if he hadn’t expected to be charmed and mortified in the same moment. “I genuinely did come for croissants. I swear. But I figured, since I made a complete fool of myself earlier, I should at least apologize.”
“You sort of already apologized,” Eli said.
“Then the least I can do is apologize properly.” Noah straightened, suddenly earnest. “What I did was impulsive and unfair. And way too personal for a stranger.”
“True,” Eli said.
“But also,” Noah added, “you were very nice about it. So… thank you.”
Eli hated how something in him caved at Noah’s earnest tone. “You’re welcome.”
“And I owe you a coffee,” Noah said.
Eli arched his eyebrows. “Why?”
“You survived my terrible attempt at flirting.” Noah shrugged. “It’s only fair that you get some kind of reward.”
Aileen let out a tiny squeal.
Eli glared at her again. “Stop.”
“Can’t,” she said. “Won’t.”
Noah cleared his throat. “Also, I’m here partly on festival business.” He nodded toward the window where Eli had dumped the tangle of lights. “We’re short on volunteers this year.”
Aileen gasped theatrically. “My brother was just saying he’d love to help.”
“I never said that,” Eli sputtered.
“You said it with your energy,” she insisted.
“I have no such energy.”
“You totally do.”
Noah’s eyes sparkled. “You’d be a huge help. And I promise, no fake-boyfriend emergencies.”
“That’s a shame,” Aileen murmured.
Eli inhaled sharply. “I’m going to strangle you.”
Noah laughed, the sound nervous but hopeful. “Set-up starts Monday morning. I can put you on wreath duty.” His lips twitched. “Very low emotional risk.”
Eli glanced out at the falling snow, then back at Noah’s hopeful expression. A small, traitorous warmth bloomed in his chest.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll help.”
“Really?” Noah’s smile was immediate and dazzling. “That’s great.”
“Don’t oversell it,” Eli said. “I’m sure I’ll be terrible.”
“We’ll fix that,” Noah replied. “I’m good with hopeless cases.”
Aileen choked on a laugh.
Eli rolled his eyes. “You two need boundaries.”
“I disagree,” Aileen said in a cheerful tone. “I think we’re just bonding. Nothing wrong with that.”
“You know very well that’s not what I said.”
She ignored him and handed Noah a bag of croissants. “On the house. I insist.”
Noah took it, flushing. “Thanks. I really should get going. But… I’ll see you Monday?”
“Looks like it,” Eli said with resignation.
“Great.” Noah hesitated for a fraction of a second, long enough for Eli to see something flicker across his face.
A warm, slightly curious expression, with maybe the faintest trace of nerves.
Then Noah pushed the door open, letting in a gust of cold air and delicate snowflakes that swirled around him like an accidental halo.
He glanced back once and smiled before disappearing into the gentle snowfall.
The bell jingled behind him, leaving the bakery too warm and too quiet.
Aileen waited exactly three seconds before exploding.
“Eli. Oh. My. God.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Eli dropped onto the stool. “It was just a weird hardware store moment.”
“It was a moment,” Aileen said, shaking him by the shoulders. “A real one. Do you understand how rare that is? People have dated for five years without that much energy.”
“It wasn’t energy.”
“No, it was chemistry,” she countered. “You could’ve lit those Christmas lights between you two by looking at each other.”
Eli stared at the lights he’d been about to work on. “We barely know each other.”
“So?” Aileen scoffed. “Get to know him. Let someone be good to you, Eli.”
He swallowed. The last person who had claimed to be good to him had left the toothbrush holder half-empty.
But Noah’s smile…
Noah’s hand.
The way he’d said I’ll see you around as though it was a promise instead of a polite exit.
Something fluttered low in Eli’s stomach, and he pretended it didn’t.
Aileen went back to the counter, humming something annoyingly romantic under her breath. The bakery filled with customers again, the holiday bustle rising in warm waves. Snow drifted past the windows. The garlands twinkled.
Eli climbed the step stool once more and resumed hanging lights. This time, however, he caught himself smiling at the glass, at his own faint reflection.
He didn’t know what would happen next. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to know. But he couldn’t deny it anymore.
Something had shifted.
Something small and warm and terrifying.
And as he hung another strand of lights, he whispered to himself:
“It’s just for the season.”
But even he didn’t believe it.