Chapter 16 #2
I grab one too, squeezing a neat outline around a snowflake cookie. Hazel watches, impressed—until she deliberately bumps my elbow. My icing smears into a crooked line.
I narrow my eyes at her. “Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be.”
She grins, unapologetic, and focuses intently on her cookie. When she glances up, I swipe a dot of icing across the tip of her nose.
Hazel gasps, laughing as she swats at me. “Benjamin!”
“What? It suits you. Very festive.”
In retaliation, she dips her finger in green icing and dabs it on my cheek. The cold sweetness lingers, and her mischievous smirk nearly undoes me.
Gran chuckles from her perch with her cocoa. “If you two are done painting each other, maybe decorate a cookie for me.”
But Hazel’s already giggling, sprinkling a storm of red and white nonpareils on her cookie—half of which bounce onto the counter, then the floor. I shake my head, leaning in close, my voice low enough for just her to hear. “You’re a menace.”
Her eyes meet mine, sparkling. “And you love it.”
She’s close enough that I can feel the heat of her body through that soft blue sweater. Close enough that if I leaned forward just a little—
“Dinner’s ready!” Nathan bellows, kicking open the kitchen door with a flourish, a tray of roast balanced in his arms.
Hazel jumps back, flustered, wiping her hands on a towel. I swallow hard, forcing a grin as we gather up the cookies to bring to the table.
In the dining room, I pull out a chair for Hazel to my left, then open the bottle of wine she brought and fill everyone’s glasses.
“There’s so much food! I hope you didn’t go out of your way to make all of this because I came up,” Hazel remarks, staring at the platters of steaming vegetables, golden rolls, and casseroles Mom’s been fussing over all week.
“Oh no, we always eat like bears,” Nathan says proudly.
I choke on my wine, sputtering as Nathan smirks like he’s the funniest man alive. Hazel laughs beside me, the sound bright and warm, and it takes everything in me not to outright stare at her.
Mom leans over to slice the roast, pretending not to notice, but I catch the amused curve of her lips. Gran mutters something about boys showing off like rutting elk and sips her cocoa.
“Well, there certainly is enough food for a house of bears. I feel like Goldilocks—I need to try everything,” Hazel replies.
She glances at me with a sly smile, and when her knee brushes mine beneath the table, a jolt of heat shoots through me. I don’t move away. Instead, I press back just enough to make sure she knows it wasn’t an accident.
She keeps her gaze firmly on her plate, though the corners of her mouth twitch upward. When Nathan passes her the mashed potatoes, she bumps my knee again—firmer this time—and I nearly drop my fork.
“You alright there, Ben?” Dad asks, raising a brow.
“Fine,” I manage, stabbing a carrot with more force than necessary.
Hazel’s shoulders shake with silent laughter. I lean closer, my voice pitched low enough that only she can hear. “You think you’re funny.”
“I know I am,” she whispers back, eyes glinting as she reaches for her wineglass. Her fingers brush mine as I steady it for her, and the accidental slide of her pinky against my hand sends my pulse racing.
Dad clears his throat loudly, as if he can sense something brewing under the table. “Benjamin tells me you’re working over at the candy shop in town. Have you always wanted to apprentice in candy making?”
Hazel sets down her fork, giving him a polite smile. “Actually, no. I studied photography in school.”
“Photography?” Mom perks up instantly, eyes lighting with interest. “That’s fantastic. I’ve always loved how photographs can freeze a moment—make it feel alive again.”
Hazel’s expression softens, touched. “That’s exactly what I love about it. A picture can tell a whole story without saying a single word.”
I can practically feel Mom filing that away for her next canvas. Sure enough, she casts me a knowing look before turning back to Hazel.
“Benjamin mentioned you admired the painting in your room—and the ones in the hall,” she says.
Hazel beams. “They’re gorgeous. Truly. I couldn’t stop staring. You captured the forest so perfectly.”
“Thank you.” Mom smiles, tearing a roll in half. “I’ve been painting for a very long time. Sometimes I just get this… itch, and nothing relieves it until I get the image out of my head and onto canvas.”
“That sounds like passion,” Hazel says warmly. “You’re very talented. Honestly, I’d love to commission a painting for my new place.”
“I’d love that,” Mom replies, pleased. Then she waves a hand toward Hazel’s heaping plate. “But that can wait. Eat your food before it gets cold.”
Hazel grins, dutifully cutting into her roast. She takes a bite, her eyes fluttering shut as she lets out a soft, involuntary moan. “This is amazing.”
Everyone chuckles, but I can’t take my eyes off her. Something in my chest tightens, and before I can stop myself, I lean forward and brush a thumb across her chin where a smear of gravy lingers.
Her lashes flutter open, eyes locking on mine. Heat rises in my chest as I bend closer, my voice low enough for only her to hear.
“Not as amazing as you.”
Her lips part slightly, and she doesn’t look away from me. Not when she takes another sip of wine. Not when her knee brushes mine again—this time staying there, warm and steady.
I clear my throat, trying to focus on the conversation happening around us, but my body’s tuned only to her. Every brush of contact, every secret glance, every shared smirk pulls me tighter into her orbit.
By the time dessert rolls around, I know two things for certain:
Hazel was born to drive me insane.
And tonight, when we’re finally alone again, I won’t be able to resist kissing her.