Chapter Sixteen Lily
Chapter Sixteen
Lily
“I did it. I actually did it.”
The counter was covered. An absolute mess remained.
Sticky circles of lemon juice. Powdered sugar clung to places it shouldn’t cling.
One batch had gotten a little too crispy, and that was already in the trash.
The pile of discarded lemons was much bigger than I’d thought it would be (and the reason I’d bought half a dozen, when I knew we really only needed two), but Maggie and I stood by the island, my arm slung over her shoulders, as we stared down at the most perfect batch of lemon meltaway cookies.
“Maggie, honey, they’re beautiful.” Her grandma clapped her hands together, taking in the finished product with awe.
“And they’re yellow,” Maggie said, smiling so huge that I felt it like a punch to my chest.
“Why do you think we started with these?” I asked.
She exhaled, swiping her hand over her forehead, leaving behind a streak of lemon glaze. “I should eat the first one, right?”
Barrett’s dad, a tall, wiry guy with thinning salt-and-pepper hair, strolled into the kitchen with Bryce tagging right behind. “Cookies ready? I haven’t had one yet today.”
Robin rolled her eyes at her husband. “You had three OREOs with your breakfast.”
That stopped him short. “Well, those don’t count.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because my granddaughter didn’t bake those.” He winked at Maggie.
Bryce elbowed in by the island, eyes wide as he surveyed the two dozen cookies in front of us. “You made those?”
“All by myself,” she proclaimed. Then she gave me a bashful look. “Well, sort of.”
“Claim it,” I told her. “I just supervised, but you did all the important steps by yourself.”
Her brother leaned in to inspect the cookies. “What’s that yellow crap on the top?”
She scoffed. “It’s lemon zest, Bryce.”
He wasn’t impressed. “They look like worms.”
“Fine, then you don’t have to eat any.” She looked up at me. “And you’ve really never taught anyone to bake before?” Maggie asked.
“Nope.” I ruffled her hair. “You’re my first student, and I’m afraid you’ve spoiled me. I won’t be able to teach any others.”
Robin watched us with a small smile hovering on her lips. “Thankfully you’ve got time to teach a little more, I hear.”
“She leaves in February,” Maggie stated, her smile dropping at the edges. “We better make a few more cookie dates before then.”
Someone had shoved a wad of sandpaper down my throat, and I could not make that sucker budge, even with a hard swallow. “We will,” I said, voice slightly strangled.
Robin was watching me carefully. That woman was just a little too perceptive, if you asked me.
Maggie picked up the first cookie, studying it intently. She pulled her bottom lip in with her teeth and then shoved the cookie at me. “You have it.”
She reminded me so much of her father heaving that damn shovel toward me that I almost lost my breath.
The jerky movements and lack of eye contact was .
. . adorable. On both of them, really, which was just a little obnoxious for a man his size to do anything that was adorable.
I found it much more palatable coming from his daughter.
“Big honor,” Robin said, winking subtly at me.
Was I blushing? God, how embarrassing. It was a cookie. But it was, like, symbolic or something. Because it wasn’t just a cookie.
In ten years of moving around, I’d never experienced anything like this. Hadn’t let it happen. More than once now, I’d spent time in this kitchen with her, and that made it a pattern. Patterns, no matter what they were, were hard to break. Good ones, bad ones—it didn’t really matter.
The only pattern I’d ever managed to form was never letting myself look back.
But with my heart in my throat, I accepted the cookie from Maggie and took a small bite. The bright burst of lemon had me humming, and the cookie melted on my tongue. I closed my eyes and finished chewing. When I opened them, everyone was watching me.
And yet again, Barrett had entered the room without making a single fucking sound.
After licking the crumbs off my lips, I looked down at Maggie and nodded slowly. “Perfect,” I told her.
She smiled, exhaling loudly. “Good.” Then she looked around the room. “Does anyone else want one?”
Bryce and her grandpa had one in their hands before the words were even out of Maggie’s mouth, and I laughed into my second bite, finishing the cookie with another small sound of appreciation.
I squeezed her shoulder while she watched the other two inhale their first cookies, then go for another one.
“Good job, kiddo,” I told her.
“This is the best feeling ever.”
I smiled, but it was only a moment later that my attention shifted to him.
Across the room, Barrett slid his laptop bag off his shoulder and set it on a chair, and damn it, I couldn’t help it—I just watched. Had I watched for his truck to leave before coming over for cookie baking? Maybe.
Did that stop me from wondering what the fuck this man was thinking with his weird, strangely destructive displays of thoughtfulness? Nope.
I didn’t know what to make of him, not after what had happened that morning. And now the thought of teasing him didn’t hold nearly the same appeal that it had on Christmas Eve. A shift, invisible though it was, still registered in the back of my head.
Robin went for her first cookie, moaning when she took a bite. “You two are dangerous in the kitchen.”
“Everyone tells me I’m dangerous everywhere,” Maggie muttered.
I laughed, and so did Barrett’s parents. Barrett’s expression was hidden, only his profile visible. But there was a slight softening in his cheeks, a hint of a smile, and I found myself unable to look away.
But his head moved, so I did as well.
“February, huh?” Robin asked.
Barrett was watching me—I could feel it—but I kept my eyes on his mother, nodding in answer. “They’ll be home middle of the month.”
“Must be hard to move around so much,” she said.
The kids chattered with their grandpa, and Barrett joined them, but Robin spoke loudly enough that I could tell he was listening.
“Sometimes,” I admitted quietly, picking up a dishcloth to wipe down the counter. “But it’s all I know.”
She was quiet, coming around the counter to help clean up.
Wouldn’t it be easier if she annoyed the shit out of me? If she was intrusive and rude and pushy, and I could run out of the room, desperate for a quiet house and my own space?
Alas, she was none of those things.
Barrett’s parents, much to my absolute dismay, were completely delightful. Friendly without being overbearing. Chatty without dominating conversation. A bit curious, yes, but I never felt like I was being interrogated.
“I suppose it must be fun to see the country this way.” She smiled, all nice and warm and sweet and motherly. What the fuck was I supposed to do with that? “And you’ve probably done a lot of different jobs, haven’t you?”
“I have,” I answered, trying to keep the wary tone under control but failing miserably.
“Usually house-sitting?”
“About half and half. I’ve been a barista, a dog walker, a temp, a digital marketer . . . I tried my hand at being a travel influencer, worked at a small tourist farm for a while and some clothing boutiques—though I am not nearly nice enough for retail . . .”
She chuckled. “A temp? I can’t picture you stuck at a desk, honey.”
“It was actual hell.” I smiled. “I hated every single second.”
“And you’ve seen the country while doing it,” she said kindly.
“I have.”
“How long have you been traveling like this, sweetheart?”
Later, I’d blame it on the easy way she used the endearment, something I wasn’t sure I’d earned.
The Mom Energy was strong with this one, and it decimated my ability to lie.
To brush her off and pretend like this wasn’t a really fucking hard question to answer.
I pulled in a sharp breath through my nose, fully aware of Barrett’s eyes on me while I did.
“Ten years. Three months.” I swallowed. “Two days.”
His mom was quiet. So was Barrett, his watchful expression from across the room more than I could handle.
“That’s a long time,” Robin said slowly. Her eyes were so kind. So warm. Both things tied me up in knots inside. “And you saw some of Buffalo recently, isn’t that right?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak right away.
“What did you like seeing most yesterday?”
Barrett’s eyes were heavy on the side of my face as I cupped my hand underneath the edge of the counter and swept a small pile of powdered sugar into my palm. “Niagara, actually.”
“In the winter?” he asked.
The sound of his voice, deeper and lower than his father’s, made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I met his eyes carefully and nodded. “It wasn’t busy, and a lot of it is frozen over, but . . . it was amazing.”
Magical. Everything about it was magical.
The movement of the water underneath the sheets of ice.
The water churning mightily, the air filled with a mist so cold on my face that it was hard to breathe sometimes.
But I had stood there as long as I could handle, until my nose felt like ice and my teeth started chattering.
His eyes were on me, their unrelenting heat twisting my stomach into a weightless knot.
“Get everything done at the office?” Barrett’s dad asked him.
Barrett pulled his gaze from mine and nodded. “Had to sneak in and out so too many people didn’t stop me, but most everyone knows I was working from home today.”
Bryce sidled up next to his dad, nuzzling against his father’s chest. Barrett returned the embrace, absently dropping a kiss on his son’s head. His phone started vibrating, and he pulled it out, looking at the screen.
“Isn’t that the GM?” Bryce asked.
Barrett nodded.
I waited for him to pull away, but instead he ignored the call.
“You don’t need to take that?” Bryce asked.
Barrett touched his son’s face and shook his head. “Not right now. I’ll tell him my son was hugging me voluntarily. He’ll understand,” he answered with a wryness to his voice I’d never heard.