Chapter 10 Gingerbread Crimes
Eliza and Lachlan entered the cottage the same way they came, their hands pressed against each other on the knob. The lock clicked its satisfaction, allowing them to pass through the threshold.
Inside, the house enveloped Eliza in warmth, clove, and cinnamon.
It felt like she’d curled up inside an overly large hearth.
Lachlan placed the tree in the corner beside the hearth, just where Isadora had been decorating the tree in her memory.
At last, he stepped back with his hands on his hips to admire the placement.
His gaze drifted to the sofa across the room, and he tilted his head. Eliza followed his line of sight.
Sitting on top of the velvet cushions were several containers, like a pile of wrapped presents waiting to be opened. A single red ornament fell onto the floor and landed with a soft clink next to Lachlan’s foot.
“I think the house wants us to decorate it,” he said.
The house’s fire snapped and crackled in response, casting shadows along the walls.
The boxes held several vintage ornaments, fresh home-made strings of oranges, glittering lights, and spools of expensive ribbon.
“I feel like we’re being watched,” Lachlan said, coming to Eliza’s side.
“We are,” corrected Eliza as she held up a Sugar Plum Fairy ornament. “You’d better be on your best behavior or else the house may hide your beloved sock collection.”
“Just not the ones with bells,” he said a little louder so the house would hear.
She handed him the ballerina ornament. “Start hanging. I’m trusting you not to mess up the aesthetic.”
“We’re going for an aesthetic, are we?”
“Always.”
He adjusted the lights, hanging them too far away from each other. “How’s this?”
“Absolutely not.” She came over to adjust his work. “There. Better.”
“That’s what you get for trusting me,” he said.
They fell into a rhythm, handing off the spool of string lights as they carefully hung them inside the tree. From the corner of her eye, she saw Lachlan glance at her. All of a sudden, she felt like she didn’t know what to do with her hands.
“So, Snow,” he began. “What do you like to do with your free time? You know, other than baking and booking week-long gingerbread escapades?”
She continued, carefully placing the lights on the tree, thinking. “Well, there’s this little pub a few streets away from my flat. There’s a trivia night there every Thursday. Sounds so silly when I say it out loud.”
“Silly? What for?” he asked, seeming genuinely curious.
She scrunched her nose. “I don’t know. I guess not everyone is into those types of things. My ex wasn’t, at least.”
Lachlan huffed out a laugh, though it sounded anything but amused. “Not his idea of fun, is it? Pint in hand, pub quiz going, and the rugby game humming along in the background … Honestly, does this bloke enjoy living?”
Eliza rolled her eyes, passing off the string of lights his way.
She hadn’t meant for this to take yet another Davis turn.
So she steered the other way. “I also like to cycle. Well, spin classes. You know, where you go into a dark room that blares loud music. It’s basically like clubbing on a stationary bike. ”
“No wonder your legs are so toned,” he said, rounding the tree to place the lights on the next set of branches. “Figured it must be from all the standing you do in the kitchen.”
Eliza blushed, thankful he was busy around the other side of the tree so he couldn’t see her face. She hadn’t realized he was paying attention. “Wait a minute. Were you checking me out?”
He poked his head out from the side of the tree. “Observing, admiring, checking out ... It’s all the same, really.”
With another eye-roll, she thrust out her hand for the Christmas lights. He handed them over, their fingertips brushing ever-so-slightly. “What do you like to do? You know, other than selling overpriced beach houses on the coast and admiring a stranger’s legs?”
“Plenty of things, Snow. Admiring your legs is a recent hobby of mine that I take very seriously, thank you very much.”
She shoved him, muttering, “Creep,” but she couldn’t stop the blush that continued to spread up her neck and into her cheeks.
“Used to play rugby with my mates,” Lachlan started. “I played for the University of Southampton until I got injured. Tore my ACL.”
She looked from Lachlan to the tree, swallowing hard. She didn’t know what to say, so she said the only thing she knew how to. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be,” he said, taking the lights from her, their hands brushing. “Everything happens for a reason.” His eyes locked on hers. “And for the record? You’re not a stranger. I’ve been living with you for the past day, and I very much like getting to know you.”
Eliza misstepped and accidentally bumped into Lachlan as she was handing the loop of lights to him to hang around the back.
“Careful,” he warned, grabbing her waist to steady her.
“Your fault!” she joked, her face practically burning alive. It felt like someone had stuck her directly over the fire to roast. “You were blocking all the light.”
He looked down just as she looked up, and for the time being, the world stood still. Her gaze locked on his deepest brown eyes of molten chocolate; only the kind you’d find in the finest of bakeries.
“Um,” he cleared his throat. His gaze softened. “You have glitter on your bottom lip.”
“Do I?” Eliza breathed. Her heart was stuck somewhere between her throat and her stomach.
“Uh huh.”
Slowly, he reached up, brushing his thumb across her lower lip to wipe away the speck.
But then his hand stilled. Her breathing hitched, caught in the silence stuck between them.
All she could feel was the warmth of his skin pressed on her face.
And for a breath, he held her there, the world narrowing down to their single point of contact.
She stood frozen as the icicles hung outside the cottage. She was suddenly too aware of everything. The way her breath quickened, her heart racing beneath her ribs, the comforting scent of evergreen that clung to his skin.
Her heart pounded so fast that she was sure Lachlan could feel it.
Something shifted along the rafters above them.
There was a rustling sound, like frosting was being swirled over a cake.
Emerald vines of piping curled down from the ceiling, rapidly lacing themselves as it descended—no, grew— to meet them.
In the center, just over Lachlan and Eliza’s heads, was a sprig of mistletoe.
“I swear this house has no chill,” Eliza nervously laughed.
“Neither do I, apparently.” Lachlan lifted her chin with his thumb, silently waiting for the cue.
Was it the magic of the house, the nostalgia of the holiday, or something else entirely that made Lachlan seem so drawn to her?
Eliza couldn’t tell. But the question haunted her: would he one day wake up and treat her like something he’d grown tired of?
Was he even thinking about the future, or just living in the magical moments shared within these warm, gingerbread walls?
And how long would the chemistry spark before the flame burned out? When was it a matter of time before his love, or infatuation, or whatever this was, quietly faded, too, vanishing before it was ever even truly hers?
She took a step back. “I’m not kissing you simply because a sentient gingerbread Airbnb encourages me to.”
Puffcake let out a massive, melodramatic yawn from his luxurious mixing bowl bed.
“What if it wasn’t encouraging you to do so? Would you have a change of heart?” He asked.
Eliza shrugged. “I would—”
Lachlan flashed Eliza a smile. “So you would kiss me?”
“I wasn’t finished!” she floundered, swatting at him. “Enough with your antics.”
“Hey, I’m just an innocent bystander.” Lachlan put his hands up. “I’m just as much a victim to these gingerbread crimes as you are.”
The mistletoe shook from side to side, as if in anticipation of the big moment. But it never came.
Eliza pushed him away playfully. “Sure you are, Casanova.”
He caught her hand and held it there, just above his heart.
She felt the soft thump-thump of his pulse beating like a steady drum.
She wondered if he could feel hers through the shallow veins of her wrist. And if she’d thought her heart was beating fast earlier, now it was about to sputter out of control.
“It’s good you don’t give in to peer pressure, Snow.” His expression grew serious, his eyes meeting hers once more and drowning her in chocolatey goodness. “I want you to want to kiss me. Not because the gingerbread house says so.” He said with a wink.
Eliza nervously stepped around Lachlan, and he broke his grip, but the feeling of his hand on hers still lingered. “C’mon,” she said, gasping for air. “Let’s finish this tree before it tangles us up together in tinsel.”