Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Despite her best efforts, Andrea couldn’t crack Wes, and when his truck pulled up at six o’clock the following evening, she still had no idea where they were going for dinner or what else their date might entail.
Fortunately, she’d had plenty of work to keep her busy.
Unlocking the secret to the pecan tassie–inspired cupcake had seemingly broken the dam on her creativity, and she had three new recipes deep in the final stages of her meticulous testing phase.
It would take a bit more tweaking to get them ready to submit, but in terms of productivity, her eight days in Maple Crossing had already far surpassed months of being stalled out in LA.
Crumpet perked at the sound of the truck and jumped down from his place on the sofa to go to the window and investigate. Andrea intercepted him and tugged the curtain closed to block the pooch’s line of sight. “Be nice, Crumpy!”
Phantom lazed on the top of a bookshelf, where a low-profile cat bed lay between a pot of catnip and horizontal stack of books.
“Marren better bring me back something really good as a souvenir,” he muttered, his narrowed green eyes on the terrier who was still trying to skirt around Andrea and get at the window.
“I did not sign up for doggy daycare duty.”
Andrea managed to get Crumpet back long enough to open the door, just as Wes was raising his fist to knock.
In his other hand he clasped a bouquet of a dozen white roses, nestled among winter greens and sprigs of hard red berries.
He looked handsome in dark wash jeans and a charcoal wool coat that fit so well, Andrea assumed it was custom tailored.
His cheeks were slightly pink from the cold.
“Oh!” He smiled and gave her a quick up-and-down glance.
His smile widened as his eyes returned to hers. “You look beautiful.”
Andrea tucked a section of hair behind her ear.
She’d styled it into loose waves with a bit of product that left them soft and pliable, but frizz-free.
“Thank you. Although, if this outfit isn’t right, now would be the time to say something.
” She feigned an annoyed look. “Seeing as you’ve been Mr. Cagey. ”
Without a dress code to refer to, or even guess at, she’d ended up dressing in a plum-hued wrap dress.
The fabric was clingy in all the right places, and low cut enough to show off her decolletage and a tasteful amount of cleavage.
She’d accessorized with a pendant necklace and a white gold bracelet.
In LA, she would have opted for her matte black Louboutins, but had instead chosen a low-heeled boot with good traction, having learned her lesson about Vermont winter footwear the hard way.
“You’ll fit right in,” he said, then extended the flowers to her. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, but these caught my eye.”
“They’re perfect.” She took the bouquet and breathed in the subtle fragrance, genuinely touched by the thoughtful gesture. “Thank you. Let me just put them in water and then we can go.”
Crumpet sniffed wildly at Wes’s boots, but didn’t bark, so Andrea took that as a win and headed to the kitchen to find a vase. Fortunately, Marren was well-organized and it didn’t take long. Wes came to stand in the doorway while she waited for the vase to fill with water.
“I was considering asking if you wanted to go ice-skating afterward. The rink just opened,” he teased with a grin. “But I suppose for you, it’s kind of been there, done that.”
Andrea burst out laughing and turned off the tap. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Probably not.” His eyes crinkled with humor. “How’s the ankle today?”
“One hundred percent,” Andrea replied with a wide grin. “Although, that being said, I don’t think I’m ready for hiking, skiing, snowshoeing, or any other winter wonderland outdoorsy adventures you might have in mind.”
Wes chuckled. “I promise, I’ve planned a very ankle-safe evening. Though I wouldn’t be opposed to a little dancing.”
Andrea’s cheeks warmed at the thought of being wrapped up in Wes’s arms, swaying in a darkened corner of a bar, a little tipsy and uninhibited.
She fluffed the flowers a bit, giving her heart a moment to stop racing with anticipation, but when she looked up from the makeshift arrangement and found Wes’s dark eyes on her, her pulse fluttered in her throat.
“All set?” Wes asked.
She gave a small nod. “All set. Let’s hope the cat leaves them alone,” she said, raising her voice a bit as she rounded the corner back into the living room, and glanced toward Phantom.
The black cat had his eyes closed, but flicked his fluffy tail.
Wes smiled. “I made sure the flowers were cat safe.”
Andrea blinked. “Oh! Right. Good call.”
Even though Phantom wasn’t at all like most cats, and likely aware enough to avoid toxic plants, the thought should have still occurred to her to check. She glanced at Wes with fresh appreciation. “Are you sure you’re real?” she asked.
He barked out a surprised laugh. “Fairly certain, yes.”
Phantom cracked one eye open and glowered.
“All right, come on,” Andrea said, reaching for the coat hanging from the hook beside the door. “Looks like said cat is ready for his post-dinner nap.”
Wes took the coat and held it open for her. When she buttoned the front, she flipped her hair free of the collar and shook it slightly before looking over at Crumpet, who stood expectantly beside the door, alternating glances between Andrea and his leash.
“Not tonight, bud,” Andrea said.
Wes shrugged. “Sorry. It’s not really a dog-friendly date.”
Andrea smiled. “Is that a clue?”
Wes laughed and opened the door. “Come on. We’re going to miss our reservation.”
“Another clue!”
With a chuckle, Wes placed a hand on Andrea’s lower back and steered her through the open door.
He waited for her to lock up and wave goodbye to the distraught Crumpet through the front window, then guided her gently down the stairs, with more care than truly required, but Andrea couldn’t help but inwardly swoon at his attentiveness to her every step.
At the truck, he opened the door and waited for her to get in and begin buckling her seat belt before he closed the door gently.
Within minutes, they were driving through downtown Maple Crossing, enveloped in heat from the vents and a flurry of jazzy versions of popular Christmas songs on the radio.
The town glowed with festive lights in a myriad of colors, but Andrea liked the soft white lights the best.
“Are you sick of Christmas music yet?” Wes asked, gesturing at the radio. “Because I can change it to whatever you want.”
Andrea smiled and shook her head. “I don’t mind. Now, if I was back in LA right now, the answer might be different. Try as I might, it seems like the same twenty songs end up on the patisserie’s playlist this time of year, and I won’t lie, it makes a fourteen-hour day feel a little bit longer.”
Wes laughed softly and nodded. “I get that. During college I worked at a café on campus, and I swear, there are still some songs I can’t hear without having flashbacks to cleaning out grease traps and mopping up spilled soda.”
Andrea snorted a laugh. “Brutal.”
Wes smiled over at her. “I’m sure you have your own stories like that, running a bakery.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s always something. Especially when you add bridezilla clients into the mix.”
Wes chuckled. “Hit me with your best shot. Your craziest wedding story.”
Andrea flashed a wicked grin as half a dozen divas flashed through her mind.
She eventually landed on one, and launched into storytelling mode as they drove along the picturesque streets, the snow-covered hills and stretches of snowy forests in the distance looking like a scene from a Christmas card.
The time evaporated as Andrea regaled Wes with stories, everything from epic bridezillas to baking experiments gone awry to the week when the whole place had to shut down after a termite scare.
In truth, it hadn’t been termites, but rather a winged hexhopper infestation from a badly packed crate of supplies delivered to the potion shop across the street from the bakery. But termites were a non-magic alternative that relayed the appropriate level of irritation over the situation.
Wes listened to her stories, only occasionally interjecting to ask a question or commiserate, and between the snowy scenery, soft music, and easy conversation, the miles evaporated until a highway sign welcomed them to Stowe and Andrea blinked, surprised they’d come so far from Maple Crossing.
“Here we are,” Wes said, signaling to make a right turn into the parking lot of an elegant lodge. Timber and stone construction, warm light glowing from mullioned windows.
The lot was packed, but a telltale flash of red lights indicated someone trying to leave, and Wes angled toward the spot.
“It’s a hotel,” Wes explained as he waited for the car to leave. “But their in-house restaurant recently received a Michelin star,” he said, a note of local pride in his voice as he eased into the space and turned off the truck’s engine.
Andrea’s eyes widened. “How did you get a reservation on such short notice?”
Wes smiled. “My crew did some renovation work for them last spring—updated their kitchen and a couple of the guest rooms. The owner said I could call in a favor anytime. I don’t think he was expecting me to ask two weeks before Christmas—” Wes added with an almost guilty flash of a smile, though he easily shrugged it off, “but here we are.”
Andrea’s smile only grew as Wes came around and opened the passenger door, helping her to ease out of the truck without smacking the door into the BMW parked beside it.
Once clear of the vehicles, they fell into step beside one another, Wes offered her the crook of his arm, and she had to bite back a laugh at the charming gesture.