Chapter Eight
Belle
An hour before closing time, my body felt like it was running on borrowed time.
I was still standing. Still working. Still smiling. But man, I was tired.
Cookie Haven buzzed with holiday chaos. The ovens hummed nonstop. Christmas music drifted from the speakers, cheerful and relentless. Customers moved in clusters, pointing at displays, asking questions, laughing.
I felt like I was watching it all through glass.
“Belle,” Jessa called from the register. “The Smith order is ready for pickup.”
“Great,” I said automatically. “I’ll grab it.”
I turned too fast and had to grab the counter to steady myself.
No one noticed.
Good.
Salt sat near the register, eyes tracking every movement like he was counting heads. Pepper sprawled near the door, greeting customers with lazy butt wiggles and soaking up attention like it was his job.
I moved through the bakery on muscle memory alone. Box. Ribbon. Receipt. Smile. Repeat.
The bell jingled.
Saint’s mom stepped inside, her red coat buttoned up tight, cheeks pink from the cold. She looked around like she was stepping into a dream she’d been invited into personally.
“Oh, Belle,” she said, delight lighting her face. “It’s even prettier today.”
I smiled, genuine this time. “Hi. You picked a busy day.”
She laughed softly. “I can see that.”
She moved closer to the counter, her eyes taking everything in. “I figured you’d be slammed, but I didn’t realize how much.”
I shrugged. “Christmas waits for no one.”
She studied me. Not critically, not unkindly. Just observant.
“You look tired,” she said gently.
I opened my mouth to deny it. Closed it again.
“Just the season,” I said instead.
She nodded, clearly not convinced, and reached down to greet Salt, who leaned into her touch like he’d been waiting for it all day.
“You’ve got a good crew,” she said, watching Marcy and Jessa work. “And good dogs.”
“They keep me in line,” I joked.
Her smile softened. “May I sit for a moment?”
“Of course,” I said quickly, waving toward the small table near the window. “Can I get you something?”
“Just a scone,” she said. “If that’s not too much trouble.”
“It’s no trouble.”
I grabbed the scone and carried it over. “I grabbed an eggnog scone for you. We only have a few left.”
Mary rubbed her hands together and smiled widely. “That sounds amazing. Of course, everything you make is amazing. I’ve just been staring at the gingerbread house.”
My cheeks heated at her compliment. “I’m glad you liked it. I’m always worried when I do custom ones that people won’t like them.”
Mary shook her head and took a bite of the scone. “My god,” she sighed. “That literally tastes like Christmas.” She wiped her mouth. “Speaking of Christmas, do you have any plans?”
“Sleep,” I laughed. “As soon as we turn the lights off on the twenty-third, I am going to sleep.”
“You’re not spending the day with family?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No, I don’t have any family.”
Mary shook her head. “I don’t accept that. You’ll have to come over to my place for dinner. We’re eating at three, so you’ll have plenty of time to sleep and still be there.”
“Oh, uh, I wasn’t looking for an invite, Mary,” I insisted. Oh, lord. I was not sure how Saint would like me being at his family’s Christmas.
“I didn’t think you were, honey. I just know I won’t be able to have a good Christmas if I know you are just sitting at home all alone.”
I nodded to Salt, who was standing next to me. “I’m never alone, really. I always have Salt and Pepper with me.”
Mary reached out and patted his head. “Then they are invited, too.”
“Mary, I don’t know if Saint—”
She waved her hand at me and grabbed her scone. She stood and looked me in the eye. “You leave Saint to me.”
“But—”
She shook her head. “There are no buts when it comes to Christmas. I’ll see you at three, Belle, and if you aren’t there, you’ll have ruined my Christmas.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s a lot of pressure.”
“Just be there, and you won’t ruin Christmas.” She reached out, squeezed my arm, and flounced away with her scone in hand.
I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. I knew that Mary had been joking, but man, if it didn’t give me a bit of anxiety.
Not only did I have a loan shark on my butt, but I also now had a hot biker in my bed with a mom who demanded I be at Christmas whether Saint liked it or not.
Whoever said the holidays weren’t stressful was full of shit.