Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Andrea woke to the unfamiliar but delicious sensation of someone else’s warmth beside her in bed.
For a moment, she lay still, processing the night before—the lodge, the campfire, the way Wes had looked at her when she’d invited him inside.
The way he’d kissed her against the front door before she’d led him upstairs.
Beside her, Wes stirred, his arm tightening around her waist as he nuzzled into her neck.
“Good morning,” he murmured against her skin, his voice rough with sleep.
“Good morning.” Andrea turned in his arms, smiling at the dark waves across his forehead and the soft expression in his eyes. “Sleep well?”
“Better than I have in years.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You?”
“Mmm.” Andrea stretched like a contented cat. “Very sweet dreams.”
A disgruntled meow sounded from the doorway, and Andrea groaned. “That damn cat.”
Wes chuckled and rolled to look over his shoulder. “Aww, he’s cute. Very dapper.”
Phantom shook his tail like a maraca and narrowed his eyes at Andrea.
“Yeah, cute and equipped with murder mittens, so I’d better get his breakfast.”
Wes kissed her once more, the moment lingering, while Phantom yowled and stretched up onto his hind legs to drag his claws down the doorframe.
“Okay, sounds like he means business,” Wes teased as he pulled back.
“You have no idea.”
They roused from the bed and Andrea took a moment to admire the view while Wes got dressed before she shuffled off to the adjoining bathroom to find her discarded pajama set from the previous morning.
When she emerged from the bathroom, Wes glanced over at her with the kind of look that made her want to drag him back under the covers.
“Want me to take Crumpet out so you don’t turn into a popsicle?” Wes asked.
“Seriously?”
Wes laughed. “Sure, why not?”
Andrea wanted to stop making comparisons, as she knew it didn’t matter, but she couldn’t recall William ever offering to walk Crumpet.
“Well, I should probably feed His Majesty before he stages a revolt,” Andrea replied.
“I got it. I can’t stay long though. I should get home and change before work. If my crew sees me leaving here in the same clothes as yesterday, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Andrea laughed. “That bad?”
“I mean, they’d be happy for me. Tommy’s been after me to start dating again for about three years now.” Wes chuckled and headed into the hall. “But the commentary would be relentless.”
They headed downstairs and the whole morning took on an easy domestic vibe. Wes took Crumpet out back to do his doggy business, while Andrea got lectured by Phantom, who started speaking as soon as Wes was out of earshot.
“…the nerve of it,” he muttered, his tail swishing wildly. “And that’s to say nothing of the ungodly noises you two made last night.”
“Look, you got your breakfast!” Andrea exclaimed, her cheeks warming as she gestured at the near-empty bowl. “So, hush!”
Wes and Crumpet returned as Andrea started the coffee. When she turned to offer him the selection of coffee pods, she found him watching her with obvious appreciation.
“You’re very graceful in the morning,” he observed with a lazy grin.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Andrea said with a laugh. “Or was that a crack about me falling the other day?”
Wes chuckled and snatched a coffee pod from her hand, taking over the coffee-making duties. “I wouldn’t tease you about that.”
Andrea arched a brow and one side of her lips quirked up with it. “Oh, really? Like last night with the ice-skating joke?”
Wes laughed as the coffee started dripping into a clean mug.
“Okay, fair point.” While he waited for the mug to fill, he wandered over to where she’d left her cookbook notes spread across the kitchen table and started poking around, looking at the various images and sketches.
“Wow, you really are thorough,” he said, looking at the pages covered in her handwriting.
“Some of these instructions are pretty detailed. Like this one: ‘Step Three: Fold in chocolate chips with gentle clockwise motions, visualizing sweetness and comfort, until well mixed.’”
“Oh, that,” Andrea said quickly, snatching the card away with a laugh that sounded forced even to her own ears. “Just some silly stuff I write for fun. Um, think of it like meditation while you bake!”
Wes nodded, though he looked far from convinced. “And this? The Cake Witch? Is that your chef name? Or just a branding thing?”
Andrea licked her lips. Phantom was staring at her with an amused expression. She wanted to hex him into a toad.
“It’s just a nickname,” Andrea said, hurrying to scoop up the other notes.
“Just one some food bloggers gave me after my first cookbook came out. Because my desserts supposedly have this special quality that makes people happy.” Andrea tucked the card under the others, trying to look casual.
“I lean into it sometimes for marketing purposes. People like the mystique.”
“Huh.” Wes studied her face for a moment. “I guess that makes sense. Your baking does seem to have a special something.”
“The secret ingredient is love,” Andrea said with a smile that felt more genuine. “That’s what Mrs. Webber always told me. She was my next-door neighbor when I was growing up, the one who taught me how to bake.”
The coffee finished brewing and Wes took the mug and added a splash of oat milk from the carton Andrea left on the counter beside the machine. “Mmm. This isn’t half bad,” Wes said after his first sip, the cookbook and its eccentric notes seemingly forgotten.
Andrea set the notes aside and breathed a sigh of relief.
“I really should get going,” Wes said, checking his watch. “But did you still want to go to the winter festival tonight? No pressure. But I would love to see you again.”
“Yes,” Andrea said quickly. “It sounds perfect.”
His smile was warm and intimate. “Good. I’m already looking forward to it.”
He pulled her into his arms for a goodbye kiss that left her slightly breathless, his hands tangling in her hair as he deepened it.
“See you tonight,” he murmured against her lips.
“See you tonight,” she echoed.
After Wes left, Andrea found herself floating through the morning in a haze of contentment.
She put on Christmas music, made herself a proper breakfast, and settled at the kitchen table to work on the foreword for her cookbook.
For once, the words flowed easily, her mind clear and focused in a way it hadn’t been in months.
She was proofreading what she’d written by the time she heard the familiar rumble of trucks pulling into the driveway next door.
On autopilot, she rose from the table and went to the window, peeking through the curtains as Wes emerged from his truck and waved a greeting to Jim.
He’d gone home long enough to change into his usual work attire, and all Andrea wanted to do was march into the snow and drag him back to her bed.
As Jim lumbered up the steps, Wes stopped short and caught her watching him, sending her stomach into a somersault as she twinkled her fingers.
He winked and she giggled. Actually giggled.
She was pathetic. Absolutely, ridiculously smitten.
“Get a grip,” she muttered to herself, even as she laughed and shook her head at her own absurdity.
Before Andrea could plot an excuse to go next door and see Wes again, her phone rang, and Lainey’s name appeared on the screen.
“Thank Gaia,” she said without preamble as she answered the call.
“I need you to talk me off the ledge, and tell me that it would be highly irresponsible to abandon my business and run away to become a maple syrup farmer.”
There was a beat of silence, then a cough of a laugh, and Andrea pictured Lainey nearly inhaling part of her morning tea. “Maple syrup farmer? Is that even a real thing?” Lainey asked, still spluttering a bit.
“You’re the earth witch, surely you know where maple syrup comes from.”
“Okay, fair enough. I guess I just didn’t follow the trail to the need for farming such a thing. But that’s not really the point, is it? What are you talking about? Why are you becoming a maple syrup farmer?”
Before Andrea could reply, Lainey gasped, and her voice shifted into a fast whisper. “This is about the guy, isn’t it?”
The question was immediately followed by a loud squeal, the pitch nearly identical to the sound of a boiling tea kettle. Andrea momentarily held the phone away from her ear until her bestie collected herself.
“What happened?” Lainey gasped. “I need all of the details. And I do mean all of them, Andrea. No holding out on me!”
Andrea wandered back into the kitchen and snagged her coffee mug by its handle.
“Things may have progressed,” she said, unable to suppress a smile and the flush of heat at the memory of the night before.
“And before you ask, no, I’m not going to tell you everything. But yes, it was good. Very, very good.”
Lainey squealed louder this time. “I knew you had it in you! A little winter fling ought to fix you right up. But I’m still stuck on the maple syrup farmer part. Wait—unless he’s a maple syrup farmer? I thought he was a contractor? I was picturing him as kind of a Henry Cavill type in flannel.”
Andrea giggled and rolled her eyes. “Not far off. And yes, he’s a contractor, not a farmer. I would be the farmer.”
“Honestly, babe, I’ve seen the state of your houseplants, and can confidently say that I don’t think you should be in charge of an entire orchard of trees.”
Andrea thought of the many times she had begged Lainey to nurse her plants back to life with a touch of magic. She loved houseplants—and all greenery for that matter—she’d just never been very good at keeping her own alive.
“It was more of a placeholder occupation, I’ll admit. I’m just looking for anything that doesn’t involve payroll or spreadsheets. Wandering around looking at trees all day sounds so much more relaxing.”