Chapter Nine
VICTORIA
“ I don’t know how Rebecca does it, but she creates magic,” I say, sipping my hot chocolate.
“Isn’t it just like a double chocolate hot cocoa?” James asks, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Oh no,” I say, putting my mug down. “This is a mini egg hot chocolate. It’s not just about the chocolate-on-chocolate. It’s about the chocolate and the candy. It’s not a mini egg without the coating.”
“So, sugar on sugar.” He eyes my mug cautiously. “Especially with the whipped cream and crushed-up candies on top.”
I roll my eyes. “You just don’t get it.”
“No, I guess I don’t,” he chuckles. “But now this, I get.” He takes his fork and breaks off a large piece of his lemon bar.
“I don’t blame you. The Gingerbread Man makes the best desserts.” I pick up my fork and break off my own piece of blackberry lavender cake. I’ve been dreaming about this icing all night, knowing James would owe me a big slice for skating with him.
“The Gingerbread Man?” he asks, his fork hovering in front of his mouth.
I laugh. “Sorry, I forgot you aren’t up to speed on all the new shop names. Trent’s bakery. I believe it used to be called Springs Sweet Bakery.”
“Wow, Trent must have taken it over from his dad. I remember when he worked there during the summers.”
“I guess. Either way, he makes the most amazing treats. Rebecca always orders in the best of his seasonal items.”
“I have to say, he makes a mean lemon bar.”
“Here, try this cake.” Without thinking, I scoop a bite of my cake and hold it out to him across our tiny table. Normally, I wouldn’t offer something like this to someone I just met, but there’s something about James that makes it feel like I’ve known him for longer than a day. He has this way about him that I can’t describe as if he’s a missing piece of the puzzle that is my life.
I can’t think of him like that, though. He’s going to be going back to his team soon, flying all around North America playing hockey. I have no business thinking of him in any way past this weekend.
“I’m sorry.” I start to bring my fork back when he grabs my wrist, just like he did yesterday at the square.
“Don’t be. It just so happens that I do like cake.” He lifts the fork from my hand and takes the offered bite. “Okay, that is amazing. I never thought I’d like lavender in a dessert, but that’s good.”
“I guess you’ll never know what you’ll like until you try it.” I meant the cake when I said it, but now I think it applies to more than that.
My phone buzzes in my purse, breaking my concentration away from the dessert as the man sneaks another bite of my cake, thinking I’m not looking. I intend to ignore my phone and try to save my dessert, but the buzzes keep coming quickly after one another.
“Do you need to get that?” he asks, lowering my fork to my plate but not letting go.
“That depends. Will I have cake left after I get my phone out of my purse?” I ask with a smirk.
His cheeks redden, caught redhanded. “Yes, sorry.” He lets go of the fork, his hand retreating across the table.
I eye him wearily as I reach into my purse, happy to see he’s gone back to enjoying his lemon bar. After all the trouble he gave me about my milkshake yesterday, I find it funny he’s now sneaking my treats.
“Is everything okay?” he asks as I place my phone on the table.
“Yeah, it’s just GingerSnap.”
“It’s…what?”
“The town’s app. You haven’t been invited to it?”
“I don’t think so, but I haven’t actually lived in Gingerbread Grove for almost ten years,” he says. “Is there anything good on there?”
“They’re plotting revenge against them for having the dog on the ice today,” she whispers, making sure no one around us hears.
I lower my voice and lean in. “We’re the only ones in here. I think you can say the name.”
“You never know who’s listening, James. I’m new in town. I can’t have them thinking I’m a spy or something.” I gasp, the thought crossing my mind. “Could you imagine? I’d be kicked out. I wouldn’t be able to work at C.O.C.O.A. I wouldn’t be an elf!”
“They might even ban you from the North Pole unless you find a job at you-know-where . Maybe they’ll need a head candy cane maker.”
“It’s not funny, James.”
“You’re right. It’s hilarious,” he laughs.
I want to take a forkful of my cake and fling it at him, but that would be a waste of perfectly good cake. “Oh, you.”
“Come on, let’s see how bad they’re making this out to be.”
With a few taps of my phone, I bring up the thread, which is currently going crazy with suggestions of everything from inundating the town with Canadian Geese wearing gingerbread men as necklaces to placing gingerbread glitter bombs throughout the town.
“Canadian Geese? That’s some serious business. Those birds are mean,” James says, scrolling through the comments.
“I know, some of the things they come up with are unreal.” I glance down.
“You should have heard when they wanted to send drones and drop St. Patrick’s Day sprinkles all over the town when they were having their Valentine’s Day Festival,” Eric says, walking up behind James. I hadn’t heard him come in the front door, but his response says he heard our conversation.
I shake my head. “I forgot about that. James, this is Eric Davies. He owns the Inn now.”
The men shake hands. “Nice to meet you. I heard there’s a big reno going on there.”
“Yeah, it’s taken a while to get it off the ground, thanks to our old mayor, but it’s really starting to come together now. It’ll be open for Christmas, which is a huge relief.”
“Let me guess, it’s going to look like a gingerbread house,” James jokes.
“You know it,” Eric says with a smile. “All the permits had a box I had to check that it would meet the ‘Gingerbread Building Standards.’ Everything down to the roof shingles needs to be ‘candy-like.’”
“How do you even find those?” James asks.
“Believe it or not, there’s a supplier nearby. I went through such a hassle getting things going after Cal nearly pulled the Inn from under me, that I didn’t ask questions. I just ordered what I needed to so that I had a hope of saving my Inn.”
“Still not telling anyone the name?” I ask.
“Nope. Still a secret. You’ll find out with everyone else at the unveiling in the fall.”
“Hmph,” I say, taking a bit of my cake.
“Eric, there you are. I have your order here for you,” Rebecca says, walking behind the counter from the back. “Can I get you two anything else?” she asks us.
“No, I think we’re almost done,” I say, glancing at James. “There’s something I want to show you, if you’re up to it.”
He pops the rest of his lemon bar in his mouth before chugging the last of his coffee. “You bet I am. I’m ready when you are.”