Chapter 3
HANNAH
Flour & Fable Bakery at eight o’clock in the evening smells like heaven having a love affair with Christmas.
Even from the sidewalk, I hear laughter and the hum of voices, book-club night keeping the lights bright and the ovens working overtime.
I push the door open, bells jingling overhead. Warmth and sugar hit me at the same time. Cinnamon. Chocolate. The lemon-vanilla candle Lily always burns that smells like fresh snow. The bakery only has a few customers, unlike the book café, which is packed.
Then Chris follows me inside.
Which makes the room feel even smaller.
He’s out of the Santa suit now. Instead, he wears black jeans that look lived-in and a dark button-up shirt that fits too well across his chest and forearms. Tattoos disappear under the sleeves, and his hair is damp like he washed the party out of it.
He appears more dangerous like this. Less funny. More… real.
I tell myself not to stare. It doesn’t work.
“I’m coming in for brownies,” he murmurs, voice low as he scans the room. “And maybe to make sure you didn’t sneak home to have a breakdown alone.”
“That’s not my style,” I say. “I prefer to have breakdowns in public restrooms like a lady.”
He laughs.
Lily spots us, eyes narrowing like she’s assessing who I brought along. She wipes her hands on her apron and marches over. “You,” she says, pointing at Chris. “I hope you did an amazing job being Santa.”
He chuckles louder. “I didn’t exactly have a choice, but I’m glad I did.” He glances over at me, and Lily is staring at us both.
“Okay, what did I miss?”
“I’ll tell you later. Anyway, you look like you survived a tornado made of glitter sugar and nonsense,” I say.
“I had a late night. The twins, Sage and Blake, just turned five months, and they aren’t sleeping great.
They’ve been keeping us up all night. Then it’s been nonstop all day, and the book club is blowing up.
” She nods toward the book café room connected to the bakery, where a crowd has filled every available seat.
Archer, one of Lily’s lovers, stands at the front, holding a massive hardcover like it’s sacred scripture.
He talks with one hand, animated and utterly in his element.
The few straggling customers in the bakery have all gone to join them.
People hang on his every word.
Since he started the club, foot traffic has nearly doubled. It definitely doesn’t hurt that Archer is stupidly attractive, all velvet voice and librarian-kink vibes. Half the room is staring at him like he’s about to read them love poetry instead of Gothic poetry.
I’m honestly shocked that Lily hasn’t clawed anyone’s eyes out. She looks surprisingly calm for a woman watching other females openly ogle her man.
Chris leans on the counter, and I become distressingly aware of my heart doing cardio. He fits here too easily. Like he belongs.
“So,” Lily says, eyebrows lifting, “are you feeding the bounty hunter or just admiring him like a Christmas decoration?”
My cheeks are on fire while Chris winks at me, loving the attention.
I am absolutely admiring.
He gives me that almost smile again, the one that feels like he’s peeling back layers without even trying. “I’m here for brownies. And to keep her out of trouble.”
I hate how easy this feels. How warm he looks in the glow of fairy lights wrapped around the pastry case. How every cell of my body is tuned to him when I should be focusing on salvaging my career.
My stomach twists, but Chris shifts closer, just enough that his heat leaps over to me. He’s not touching me, but close enough.
Lily snorts. “Wasting no time for your payment for playing Santa, hey.” She glances my way. “I’m paying in brownies because they are that good.” She smirks as she rifles beneath the counter. “You sure you don’t want something stronger? You look frazzled. How did the Winter Party go?”
I gasp out loud. “The event was worse than I thought. I think Scot is kicking me out of the partnership. I texted him about twenty times and got nothing. So he’s either avoiding me or dead in a ditch, and honestly, I’m not sure which option gives me more peace.”
“Dead in a ditch is very dramatic,” Chris says.
Lily flicks flour off her wrist and gives me that forensic stare of hers. “Very episode eight cliffhanger of you.”
“I’ve been studying your true crime binges.” I lean against the counter. “If he’s dead in a ditch, think I could stage it to look accidental?”
“Easily,” Lily says. “I’ve seen at least six cases that would translate.” She rolls another rumball in coconut behind the counter. “You’d need an alibi. I’d volunteer, but I crumble under questioning.”
“You lied straight to my face three days ago about not eating the last croissant,” I say.
“That was different. I was starving.”
I snort.
It’s only then that I notice Chris watching us with that dark, unreadable gaze. “Want me to pretend I didn’t hear the murder planning?” he asks.
I flick him a look. “You’re a bounty hunter. Pretty sure murder talk is just… Tuesday for you.”
His mouth curves, sharp as a blade. “I mean, if you need it done…”
Lily perks up. “Well, we already know you accept baked goods for payment.”
“I’ve been paid in worse,” he adds.
I lift a brow. “Like what?”
“Goat,” he says without blinking. “Once.”
I choke on my coffee. “You got a goat as payment for a job?”
“And it tried to kill me,” he corrects.
“That feels personal,” I say.
“It was.” He tilts his head slightly. “Point is, if your business partner turns up dead, I’ll try not to look too impressed.”
Lily nods approvingly. “See? Reasonable.”
I rub my forehead. “I love that none of you are talking me out of this.”
“Weighing pros and cons,” Chris replies. “Your pros are winning.”
James steps out from the café kitchen, tall, dark copper hair, black T-shirt, forearms to die for.
His presence shifts the air, heavier, protective.
James is another of Lily’s three Alphas.
I’ve seen the way people look at him, like they’re not sure whether to flirt or run.
The guy did spend some time in prison, so he has this rough edge to him. Reminds me slightly of Chris.
“Hannah.”
“James,” I reply. “Making coffee or plotting a coup? Hard to tell with that face.”
A ghost of a smile. “Why limit myself?”
I glance at Lily. “How do you live with a man who could intimidate a brick wall?”
“Brick walls are cowards,” James says.
Lily laughs and moves to him without thinking. He presses a kiss to her temple, one hand sliding briefly to her waist before he goes to plate pastries. Casual. Intimate. Like breathing.
I admire the way her men adore her. All three of them.
No question, no hesitation. I remember when I was terrified to tell Lily I wanted to leave the bakery for event planning, so I kept it a secret for a long time.
I thought she’d hate me. Instead, she hugged me, shoved a box of cookies at me, and said she was proud.
And now…
Now I’m on the verge of losing everything before it has even started. Because Scot sucks. Because maybe I wasn’t firm enough. Because I thought he was a friend.
Lily looks up suddenly.
“Oh—James, this is Chris. He’s the guy who arrested Declan today. And then took his place as Santa at Hannah’s party.”
James pauses, eyes flicking over Chris, evaluating, measuring.
“That so?”
Chris shrugs. “Seemed like she needed a Santa.”
“Actually,” Lily cuts in loudly, “he only did it because I bribed him with brownies for a year after arresting the first Santa.”
I choke. “A year? Lily, that’s—”
“Standard rate for heroics,” she says solemnly. “And I did it for you.”
My heart melts.
Chris smirks. “I would’ve done it for six months, but she negotiates like a demon.”
“A demon with an apron,” James agrees, kissing the top of her head again before setting a tray of pastries on the counter.
I shake my head, laughing despite the dumpster fire my life is becoming.
“Well, you got a great deal, because her brownies are basically currency,” I add.
“Good,” Chris says, quiet and rough. “I could use a little sweetness.”
And he looks at me when he says it.
Not at the pastries.
At me.
Warmth spreads through my chest. I shouldn’t like the way he stares at me, but God help me… I really, really do.
“Anyway.” Lily reaches under the counter, pulls out her phone. “Speaking of Santa, I tried calling you about fifty times today. What if it was an emergency?”
“Was it?” I grab a snowflake cookie from the display plate on the counter, taking a bite and offering one to Chris, who takes it. Butter and vanilla and just the right amount of crunch. Perfect, like everything Lily makes. “I was in concentration management mode.”
“You’re always in that mode.” She swipes through her phone, turns it to show me, coming around from behind the counter where James is. Fifteen missed calls. Twenty-three texts. All from her.
I scan the texts quickly.
Lily: COPS ARRESTED SANTA
Lily: okay, not cops, bounty hunters
Lily: Declan’s a CRIMINAL
Lily: arson!!! He burned down cabins!!!
Lily: got a replacement but he’s TERRIFYING
Lily: also hot but that’s not the point
Lily: HANNAH, ANSWER YOUR PHONE
“Okay, that would’ve made more sense.” I’m still giggling as I hand Chris the phone so he can read Lily’s deranged message thread. He looks entirely too pleased with himself.
He sets the phone down, gaze cutting to me. “Would it have mattered? If you had seen the messages? Would you still have kissed me?”
The room goes quiet.
Lily’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wait—you kissed him?”
My face heats so fast I’m surprised the frosting on the cookies doesn’t melt.
“It wasn’t… I didn’t.” I gesture helplessly.
“Scot was coming at me under the mistletoe, and I thought Chris was Declan, okay? It was supposed to be a quick cheek kiss. A diversion. And then…” I swallow. “Well. Things escalated.”
James glances at Chris over Lily’s head. A single, male, acknowledging nod.
Traitor.
Chris’s mouth curves, slow and satisfied.