Merry Little Sugar Rush (Snowflake Falls #2)

Chapter 1

ONE

Joy

I’m up before my alarm, excitement racing through my veins.

Today is the start of the Christmas season, and I am here for it.

I am pumped.

I am ready.

I spent all afternoon and evening yesterday transforming my little bakery and coffee shop into a winter wonderland for today. It’s December first, the day we officially kick off the holiday season in our small town.

Snowflake Falls, a beautiful little town nestled in the Rocky Mountains in Colorado, is home to twenty-eight hundred people. Most of us were born and raised here, and all of us lovers of all things Christmas.

I grew up celebrating the holidays spectacularly.

For the entire month of December, our town is brimming with Christmas spirit.

We’ve been dubbed one of the premiere holiday family destinations for the last eighteen years running, only losing out to some other random town in Indiana named after the big man in the red suit.

Not very original, if you ask me…

But our love for the holidays is woven into the very fabric of our quaint little town.

The entire month of December is a celebration, from the Miss Snowflake Falls pageant to the weekly carnivals and family-focused events.

Every business decorates, every house, every streetlight.

The entire community digs deep into their Christmas spirit, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

My entire family lives and breathes this glorious holiday-infused mountain air.

I move through my morning routine easily, getting ready for work and drinking a strawberry and banana protein smoothie.

I could easily wait until I get to work and enjoy some of the sweet treats and gourmet coffee drinks I craft, but then I’d likely weigh twice as much as I do now and be on the verge of diabetes.

Don’t get me wrong. I taste.

A lot.

I am only human, after all, but I try to keep it in check.

My pride and joy is The Sweet Escape, a quaint little bakery and coffee shop in the middle of our downtown square. Ever since I received my first Easy-Bake Oven at the age of seven, I knew what I wanted to do with my life.

It wasn’t easy though. I worked at our small grocery store through high school and during my two years at junior college.

I started off as a cashier before the bakery attendant retired, leaving me to make cookies and donuts daily.

I loved it, even if I always felt like it could be more.

The owners of the grocery store didn’t feel the need to expand, however, so I was always limited on what I could offer the public, despite the fact their cake and pastry sales were up considerably.

In addition to working at the grocery store, I continued to bake pies and cakes for community bake sales and church gatherings.

People were purchasing my lemon loaves under the table, handing me cash like I was dealing something inappropriate.

I was their sugar dealer, and I haven’t looked back since.

When I hit twenty-five, it was time. Mom and Dad own a larger building in downtown, where her hair salon is housed.

When they purchased it years ago, they divided the space in half, converting it into two smaller businesses instead of one larger one.

She had rented the other area to an insurance company, and when the agents reached retirement age, they stepped away from their business and closed.

That meant the second space was empty, and my dream of owning my own bakery was within my grasp.

It took a lot of hard work and even more start-up capital.

I had been saving every penny I made, in hopes of one day achieving the dream I strived toward.

I even lived at home longer than I should have, again, so I could scrimp and save.

When I reached twenty-three, I think my parents were searching for a way to finally enjoy their golden years without one of their daughters still underfoot, so they transformed the upstairs space above the businesses into an apartment for me.

It’s actually a decent little living space, since the upstairs wasn’t divided the way the downstairs was.

There’s a large bedroom, bathroom, and open concept kitchen and living room.

There’s also plenty of storage, both in the apartment and outside of it, since Mom has always used it for that purpose.

But the best part about my cute little apartment is the fact I work right down the stairs.

It takes me seconds to get there, and I don’t even have to go outside, since the steps are located inside the building.

Of course, I still go out when I place my first batch of goodies in the oven.

We get a lot of snow here, so between shoveling and salting the walkway, I make sure the approach to my business is cleaned off the best I can.

A quick glance out the window confirms we got more snow last night.

I love the snow. There’s nothing more beautiful than your entire town being blanketed in fluffy, glistening white snow, especially during the holidays.

Twinkle lights seem to twinkle even brighter when they’re covered with snow, and coffee seems to taste even better when you’re watching it fall from the comfort of warmth and coziness.

That’s what I try to offer at The Sweet Escape.

I hum “Jingle Bells” as I give myself a final once-over in the bathroom mirror and make my way downstairs.

I inhale the sweet scent of sugar and cinnamon, reveling in the smells of the holidays before I even have the rear entrance to the bakery open.

The moment I turn the key in the old knob, I inhale and smile.

My favorite season.

My favorite time of day.

The world around me is still sleeping, and I’m about to start creating something magical.

I turn on the speaker system that runs through the shop and let the sounds of the season fill the quiet.

Nothing puts me in the holiday spirit like Christmas music, and as today officially kicks off the season for Snowflake Falls, I feel like nothing can dampen my mood.

Not even the prospect of shoveling snow.

I spend the next hour prepping dough for pastries and donuts, and just as I slip the tray into the oven and set the timer, I hear a knock on my front door. Turning my attention that way, I walk to the door and smile when I see who’s standing there.

Dad waves and holds up his shovel. Releasing the lock on the door, I say, “Good morning, Dad.”

“Morning, baby girl,” he replies, stepping inside the shop and giving me a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“What are you doing? I’m about to go out and take care of that,” I insist.

Of course it falls on deaf ears though. Dad waves off my comment with his gloved hand. “I don’t mind, sweetie. I came to get it all cleaned up for your mom and sister.”

My mom’s salon is next door, and my older sister, Eve, followed in her footsteps and became a beautician.

Roxie works at the third station in the salon, and Mom mentioned a couple of weeks back she had an inquiry from another young woman who will be graduating from cosmetology school in a couple of months and would love to make The Beauty Studio her home.

“Thank you, Dad.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.”

“I’ll get you a cup of coffee started,” I offer.

“Appreciate it.” He glances over my shoulder. “Whatcha put in the oven?” His eyes light up at the prospect of stealing a sweet treat for breakfast before I even open.

“Wednesday brings us caramel apple and cranberry cream cheese Danishes.”

His green eyes practically sparkle with excitement. “I wouldn’t mind one of those cranberry ones,” he says with a big grin.

“I’ve got you,” I reply with a wink.

“All right, I’ll go get the walk cleared off and salted.”

“Then come in and get warm.”

He exits my shop, moving toward Mom’s business first. My parents have the type of marriage everyone strives for. They both support each other regardless, and they’re not afraid of PDA. Growing up, it was nauseating, but now that I’m older, I can appreciate the way they love and show love.

Maybe someday I’ll be lucky enough to have that…

I watch him for a few moments before I’m interrupted by the chime of my kitchen timer.

Leaving Dad to it, I return to the kitchen and remove my first batch of the morning pastries from the oven.

When I have the next tray inside and the fresh batch cooling, I head back to the front area to make Dad’s coffee.

He prefers a regular brewed coffee with two sugars and creamer, so his order is fairly easy.

Occasionally he’ll indulge in something sweeter for the season, like a white chocolate cherry mocha or a crème br?lée latte, but usually that’s when he’s humoring either Mom, Eve, or me.

Just as I’m pouring his coffee into one of my The Sweet Escape biodegradable cups, the door behind me opens. “Got ya all cleaned up, sweetie,” Dad says, letting the door close behind him.

Spinning around, I hand over his coffee. “Thank you.”

He nods, taking his first sip of fresh brew. He makes a sound of pure satisfaction and smiles. “The best.”

“Come on back. My next batch of pastries is about done, and the first ones should be cool enough to eat by now,” I say, returning to my kitchen.

Dad follows willingly, his stomach leading the way.

He moves over to the counter, away from my prep and workstation, and takes a seat on the stool.

I feel his eyes on me as I retrieve a paper plate and slip a pastry on top.

When I place it in front of him on the counter, he offers a warm smile. “You’re my favorite baker daughter.”

I can’t help but snort. “And Eve is your favorite hairdresser daughter,” I state, repeating what he’s told me numerous times over the last few years and earning a laugh in return.

“That she is.” Bringing the pastry to his mouth, he takes a hearty bite and grins as he chews. “Amazing, as always.”