Chapter Ten
Belle
By the time Monday hit closing time, my whole body felt like one long bruise.
The day had been brutal in that very specific holiday way—customers smiling while they asked for miracles, ovens working overtime, and my brain running a constant mental checklist that never got shorter.
Even with Marcy, Jessa, and Owen moving like a well-oiled machine, Cookie Haven still felt like it was one bad slip away from collapsing into flour and panic.
I kept it together anyway.
I always did.
At five forty-five, I flipped the sign to CLOSED and locked the door.
The cases were empty, and all of the orders for the day had been picked up.
I leaned my forehead against the cool glass for one stupid second just to breathe.
The lights in the front window blinked softly around the gingerbread village display.
Salt and Pepper circled my ankles like they were herding me out of my own stress.
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered. “I know. You want outside, you want dinner, you want me to stop staring into the void.”
Pepper barked like he agreed.
Salt just stared at me like I was an employee who’d messed up inventory.
We were halfway through our final walk-through—ovens off, mixers unplugged, cooling racks cleared—when Marcy wandered in from the office, shrugging on her coat.
“You’re going home,” she said, like it was a commandment.
“Do you want me to just poof home?” I joked.
“You know what I mean.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not staying here to deep clean.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
Marcy made a skeptical noise that said she didn’t believe me for a second. Then her gaze slid past me toward the front window.
My stomach tightened before I even turned.
Saint was outside.
Just leaning casually against his truck with his hands in his jacket pockets, watching the bakery like he was making sure I existed.
The second my eyes caught him through the glass, something inside me eased like my whole nervous system recognized him and loosened its grip.
Pepper saw him too and started wagging his nub so hard his whole back end wiggled.
Salt’s nub twitched once, controlled, like he was trying to act like he didn’t care.
I went still.
Because suddenly, I remembered something I’d been trying not to think about all day.
Mary.
Mary and her warm smile and her unapologetic way of taking up space in my bakery, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Mary, who had said very casually, like she was inviting me to a book club and not into Saint’s family.
You should come over for Christmas. If you don’t, it’ll ruin Christmas.
I’d laughed when she said it because Mary had to be exaggerating.
But then she’d squeezed my hand like she meant it.
And now Saint was standing out there, and my brain decided this was the perfect moment to panic.
Marcy cleared her throat. “He’s here.”
“I see him,” I said faintly.
“Are you going to make him stand out there like an abandoned Christmas tree lot employee?” she asked.
“What does that even mean?” Jessa asked.
Marcy waved her hand at her. “Shush. It means she shouldn’t leave the man waiting in the cold.”
“In what world?” Jessa whispered.
“I’m going,” I laughed. Jessa and Marcy could be a whole comedy show if I let them.
Marcy smirked. “Good. Go. And Belle?”
I paused with my hand on the door handle.
Marcy’s expression softened. “You deserve a little good.”
My throat tightened. I nodded once and opened the door.
Pepper practically knocked me over trying to get to Saint. Salt followed at a steadier pace, but his attention was locked on Saint like he was confirming the man was real.
Saint straightened when he saw me, his gaze hitting my face first like it always did. He didn’t look at the dogs, didn’t look at the street.
Just me.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low.
“Hey,” I managed.
And then, because my mouth had apparently been replaced with a malfunctioning sprinkler system, I blurted, “Your mom invited me to Christmas.”
Silence.
The world didn’t stop, but it felt like it did. Like the snow paused midair, like the streetlight held its breath.
I immediately wanted to shove my own head into the nearest snowbank.
Saint blinked once.
Then his mouth twitched.
Then he smiled.
Not a smug smile. Not a teasing one.
A real one. Warm and quiet and… pleased.
“Yeah?” he said.
My stomach twisted. “Yeah. She came into the bakery on Thursday and bought enough baked goods to feed your entire club, and then she told me I should come over for Christmas and that if I didn’t it would ruin Christmas.
I laughed because obviously that’s dramatic, but then she looked at me like she was serious, and now I’m worried you’re going to think I’m—” I sucked in a breath, my lungs burning.
“Like I’m pushing myself into your family or something, and we’re still new, and I don’t want you to think I’m trying to—”
“Belle,” Saint cut in gently.
I stopped, my cheeks on fire.
He stepped closer, reached out, and brushed his thumb along the edge of my jaw in a way that made me forget what air was for.
“You’re not pushing,” he said. “You’re wanted.”
My eyes stung, and I hated that. I hated how fast emotion came when I was already tired. “You’re sure?” I asked, softer now. “Because I don’t want to make things weird.”
His gaze held mine like he didn’t know how to look away. “It’s not weird,” he said. “It makes me happy.”
That single sentence hit me harder than it should’ve.
Happy.
Not fine. Not whatever. Not sure, if you want.
Happy.
Pepper barked like he approved. Salt bumped Saint’s leg with his shoulder, like he was signing off on the decision too.
Saint glanced down at the dogs and gave Pepper a quick scratch behind the ears. “You guys ready for a ride?”
Pepper nearly levitated.
Salt’s nub wagged twice.
I let out a shaky laugh. “I guess that means yes.”
Saint opened the passenger-side door for me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The truck was warm inside, smelling faintly of coffee, leather, and manly like Saint.
The dogs scrambled in first, with Pepper trying to claim the whole bench seat until Saint pointed a finger at him. “Make room for us,” he said calmly.
Pepper huffed but shifted to press up against my thigh like he was protecting me.
Salt settled next to Pepper, and then Saint climbed in.
I buckled my seatbelt and stared out the windshield.
Saint started the truck, and the engine rumbled steadily beneath us.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
He pulled out slowly, careful on the snowy street. “Just driving.”
“Just driving,” I echoed, and my voice sounded lighter already.
He glanced at me, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. “You’ve been trapped in that bakery for weeks, Belle. You need to see something that isn’t icing and gingerbread.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “I don’t know how to do that.”
“Good thing I do,” he murmured.
We drove through town at first, past store windows packed with wreaths and twinkling lights. The streets were quieter tonight, with most people home eating dinner or wrapping presents.
Then Saint turned out toward the edge of town, where the road opened up into darker stretches lined with bare trees and snow-covered fields.
The truck tires crunched softly over salt and ice.
The heater hummed. Pepper sighed and pressed his head against my hip like he’d decided this was the best day of his life.
Salt stayed upright, watching the road like he was on patrol.
“Your mom,” I said after a few minutes, because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. “She’s… a lot.”
Saint chuckled. “That’s a nice way to put it.”
“She’s warm,” I clarified. “And kind. And she looked at me like she’d known me forever.”
Saint’s jaw flexed, but it wasn’t tension. It was something softer.
“She likes you,” he said.
“I can tell,” I admitted. “That’s why I’m nervous.”
He glanced at me again, his eyes steady. “Why?”
“Because when people like me,” I said slowly, “I always feel like it’s going to… cost something. Like it’s conditional.”
Saint didn’t respond right away. He just drove, hands steady, the engine and the heater filling the space between us.
Then, quietly, he said, “Not with my mom.”
I swallowed again.
The road curved, and suddenly we were near the lake. Saint pulled into a small overlook lot and shut off the engine.
Silence wrapped around us.
The world outside was cold and quiet, but inside the truck, it felt like a cocoon.
Pepper lifted his head, sniffed the air, then settled again with a grunt.
Salt turned his head, looked at me, then at Saint, like he was making sure we were both still here. He snuggled up to Pepper and let out a content sigh.
Saint exhaled slowly. “You okay?”
I nodded, but my voice came out honest. “I’m tired.”
“I know.”
“Tired in my bones,” I added.
Saint’s hand moved to rest over mine, where it sat in my lap. His palm was warm.
“It’s all gonna be okay, doll,” he said.
My breath caught because I felt like if I agreed out loud, something inside me would break open.
So I didn’t say it.
I just turned my hand and laced my fingers with his.
Saint’s gaze met mine. There was no rush in it. No impatience. Just that steady, calm intensity that made me feel like I could fall and he’d catch me without even thinking about it.
He leaned in.
The kiss wasn’t polite like the one on my porch. It wasn’t careful.
It was slow and deep and deliberate, like Saint had been holding himself back all night and had finally decided not to.
My stomach flipped. Heat rushed through me so fast it made my skin buzz.
I kissed him back, fingers tightening around his, and Saint made a low sound in his throat like he felt it too.
Pepper shifted next to me and sneezed loudly.
I broke the kiss with a laugh that came out breathless.
Saint rested his forehead against mine, smiling like he was amused, even though his breathing had changed. “Your dog just cockblocked me,” he murmured.