Chapter 11
ELEVEN
CASSIDY
“Cassidy! Business going well?” Mayor Bloomfield called out as she arrived in the town square, just a stone’s throw from her shop.
The mayor wore a red velvet sport coat over a white satin vest embroidered with tiny candy canes. She could appreciate the man’s dedication to the season. Honestly, she should really find out where he shopped.
“First two days have been great,” she said brightly. “I’m excited to see what the rest of the week brings.”
“Good, good.” He gave a jolly nod.
Late afternoon would soon turn to evening in Maple Falls, and the Christmas tree lighting ceremony was supposed to take place at the center of the town square, yet there was no tree in sight.
Cassidy looked around. The culinary shop had gone all out with a massive, eight-foot-tall nutcracker next to its door. She could have sworn it had given her a little salute when she’d passed earlier.
The Cinnamon Spice Inn looked even more impressive.
Lanterns with flickering lights lined the walkway.
The stately columns were wrapped in evergreen and lights with two full-size Christmas trees between them.
An oversized wreath dominated the front door.
Cassidy had had a chance to admire it earlier with its gold-painted pinecones, sugared cranberries, and burgundy velvet ribbon.
Madison had truly made the inn feel like a home.
It was the same all down Oak Way. From nearly every awning and doorway hung garlands of evergreen and white twinkle lights. Even the lampposts were wrapped in gold-lined red ribbon and oversized bows.
But no Christmas tree in the town square.
“Can I help you with something?” Mayor Bloomfield raised his eyebrows.
“I was just looking for the Christmas tree. Isn’t the lighting tonight?” According to the Maple Falls website, there were all sorts of activities planned to celebrate the tree lighting tonight: a Christmas wish fire, an ornament raffle, sleigh rides through town.
She stood up on her tiptoes, peering over his shoulder.
Maybe it wasn’t in the town square. Had she misread the location?
That wouldn’t be a shock. She was running on six hours of sleep.
Tonight, she was definitely soaking in a bubble bath, crawling into fleece pajamas, and watching Home Alone.
And no more cocoa. Her cocoa consumption was way too high.
Almost as high as her lack of patience in uncovering and apprehending the Gingerbread Jerk before they succeeded in harming this beautiful town’s Christmas spirit.
“Afraid you’re a bit early,” Mayor Bloomfield said with a chuckle. He brought a hand to his brow and scanned the street. “But it should be here any second now. He sent me a text about fifteen minutes ago.”
“He?” Cassidy asked.
The mayor ignored her question. “Ah, there he is.”
Cassidy followed his gaze just as a dark gray pickup truck rumbled into view at the end of the blocked-off road. She didn’t need to look twice to recognize the man.
Do not think about his candy cane. Or his snowballs. Or tying him up with tinsel, she reminded herself.
But then Liam stepped out of the truck and all bets were off.
He ate up the pavement in three long strides, boots crunching through packed snow. Without a word, without looking at her, he dropped the tailgate and got to work loosening the tie-downs, unhooking the rope. His entire routine was smooth, practiced. He could probably do a lot with those straps.
He might be a grinch, and he might be way sexier than should ever be allowed, but Cassidy was determined to get on with everyone in this town. Liam was friends with all her new friends, and she was going to make him like her.
“Hey, neighbor,” Cassidy said, walking over and trying to sound casual, but her voice came out all breathless instead.
Good Lord. It was happening again. Cocoa brain was back.
She cleared her throat. “Do you want help?” she asked in a perkier voice, and, before he could answer, she climbed right up into the truck bed to help him wrangle the tree.
He moved over to the side. “Um, sure.”
“Alright, let me just hoist this sucker up and we’ll be golden,” she said, getting into position.
“You sure? You want some gloves?” Liam reached for a pair in the back pocket of his jeans.
“It’s all good. I’ve got—wait! Hang on. It’s caught on my sweater!
Let me just…” Cassidy yelped, half laughing, half panicking as a spruce branch snagged the sleeve of her favorite Christmas sweater.
It was green with a felt elf on the front, wearing a hat just like the one the mayor’s assistant had given her.
The jumper elf had actual fur around his hat and jingle bells on his toes.
“Let me go, Mr. Evergreen. I did not agree to restraints,” she said to the tree, trying to break free. But the spruce needles only dug deeper.
“Enjoying a bit of role-play up there, are we?” Liam called over.
But she couldn’t reply. She sneezed not once but twice.
“Bless you,” he said, wincing sympathetically.
“Thanks.” Cassidy turned her head and sneezed some more. She lost count after five.
Oh no. Of course. Stupid freaking tree. It had to be a Norway spruce. There was no other explanation. And if that man didn’t make her brain-dead, she would’ve thought to check before now.
“What is your safe word?” she grumbled to the tree.
“You know,” he said casually, “if you’re gonna invoke safe words this early in the relationship, I feel like I should at least get a say in what they are.”
ACHOO! Cassidy sneezed again. “This is not how this ends!” she declared.
“You good there, Sugarplum?” Liam sounded a bit more concerned now as he called from the back of the truck, where he was still holding up his end of the tree.
“No,” Cassidy confessed as her eyes started watering. “I’m allergic to Norway spruces, and this—ACHOO!—tree is holding me hostage.”
Through her stinging eyes Cassidy saw Zach and Madison arriving from the inn across the street.
“You okay?” Zach called up to Cassidy.
“No, she’s allergic to Christmas,” Liam answered for her.
“Not Christmas, just some Christmas trees—ACHOO!—just Norway—ACHOO!—spruces.”
“Here, take this,” Liam said to Zach.
Zach stepped in and lifted up the back of the tree while Liam climbed into the truck bed beside Cassidy.
He quickly assessed the situation. “You’re tangled up pretty good, but don’t worry. I got you.”
Liam reached for something under his flannel. Cassidy’s eyes might have been itchy and watery, but she still appreciated the waistband of his jeans and the sliver of skin above. Liam unclipped the utility knife from his jeans and flipped it open with the flick of his wrist.
Cassidy never knew she had a thing for a man with a knife, but now she knew.
“Hold still,” he commanded, using the knife to cut the offending branches to free her.
The needles were still woven into her sweater, but at least she was now free from the tree.
“Let’s get you out of here,” he added, jumping out of the back of his truck and lifting his arms up to help her down.
Cassidy was going to protest, say she didn’t need the help, but a larger part of her wanted to feel his hands on her waist.
She sat on the edge of the truck bed, swung her legs over, and allowed Liam to lift her down.
It was better than she’d imagined. His hands felt warm and strong. She leaned into him, feeling the heat of his body. It would be all too easy to wrap herself around him like tinsel, but she restrained herself.
Because she was off men. Yep, completely, one hundred percent off them until January 1st. And anyway, Liam clearly wasn’t into her. How could he be? She radiated Christmas joy and he hated the holiday.
“You okay?” Liam asked, picking the needles off her sweater.
“I will be now that I’m away from the tree.” Cassidy rolled up her sleeve to reveal a trail of hives already forming up her forearm. “Or maybe not.”
“You guys go,” Zach offered. “Madison and I have got the tree. You should take care of that arm.”
“I’m fine,” Cassidy said quickly. “I just need to rinse it.”
Still, Liam frowned. “I’d feel better if I went with you. Allergic reactions are no joke. My dad’s allergic to nuts,” he added.
Cassidy sighed. “Fine. But only because you have that protective, bossy eyebrow thing going on.”
He raised a brow in response. “This one?”
“Exactly,” she replied. “That one is especially persuasive.”
She hurried toward her shop with Liam trailing right behind her, his hand lightly hovering at her back, not touching, but definitely close enough to feel.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again as she fumbled with her keys, trying to unlock the door.
“Just dandy,” she replied, still unable to open the lock.
“Let me,” Liam said behind her, his voice low and firm as he reached around her to take the keys.
His hand brushed hers. Warm. Solid.
She froze. Not because of her arm but because he didn’t move away. He was still close. Too close. Deliciously close.
The door swung open, and she practically stumbled inside, half from nerves, half from the fact that Liam’s presence was now fully short-circuiting her brain. She headed straight for the kitchen in the back.
At the center of the room stood a long, marble-topped worktable, cool and smooth to the touch, its surface usually dusted lightly with cocoa powder and powdered sugar.
Copper mixing bowls hung from a rack overhead, swaying slightly as she brushed past them, and beneath the table were rows of drawers filled with candy molds, piping bags, and carefully labeled ingredients.
Cassidy made a beeline for the farmhouse-style sink beneath the window, flipping the tap on and running cold water over her arm.
Liam followed with that swagger of his, his gaze never leaving her. “Let me see.”
She held her arm under the water, trying to pretend this was normal. Trying not to look up and notice how good he looked in the soft glow of the twinkle lights she’d left on. Trying not to care that his voice had gone husky.
“I’m fine,” she said, but it came out as a whisper.
“You keep saying that. But you’re shaking.”
She swallowed. It was true, she was practically vibrating inside. But not from the hives.
“It’s nothing,” she added with a soft smile.
He stepped closer, his hand coming to rest gently on her waist as he leaned in to look at her arm. “You broke out in hives. That’s not nothing. Maybe you should have a doctor check it out.”
“No, trust me, I’m fine. Just a little allergic reaction, no big deal. I once had an asthma attack from a holiday spruce-scented candle, so really, this is nothing,” she rambled. “It’s totally fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but it’s like… normal not-fine. You know?”
He huffed a quiet laugh, but his hand didn’t move. Neither did hers, which had somehow settled on the front of his coat. She didn’t even remember putting it there.
He was so close. She could smell him—woodsmoke and pine and something undeniably him. Her gaze dropped to his mouth.
“This isn’t just in my head, is it?” she asked before she could stop herself. Her other hand was now on his waist. The water still running in the background.
He went very still. Then his voice came, low and rough. “No. It’s not.”
Her heart skipped.
In one whisper of a second, everything shifted.
The heat in his gaze made her dizzy. Her arm might’ve been on fire, but the rest of her was burning for entirely different reasons.
His fingers slid up her arm, careful to avoid her hives, but tender all the same. She tipped her face up just as he leaned in. His hand cupped her cheek.
And then—
“Cassidy, honey? Are you back here? I brought that jar of candied pecans,” Mrs. Bishop’s voice called out.
Cassidy jumped back from Liam like she’d been hit with a snowball. He stepped back just as quickly, one hand scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck.
“Oh hey, Mrs. Bishop,” Cassidy called out, voice an octave too high. “I was just trying not to be killed by a Christmas tree!”
Mrs. Bishop’s head popped into the kitchen, holding a festive Mason jar with a bow tied on top. She took one look at Cassidy’s flushed face and Liam standing there looking very much like he’d been about to do something worth blushing over.
“Well,” Mrs. Bishop said, taking in the scene. “Didn’t mean to interrupt whatever… medicinal treatment was happening back here.”
Liam cleared his throat. “Cassidy was having an allergic reaction.”
“Uh-huh,” Mrs. Bishop said, setting the jar on the counter with a wink. “I’ll just… let myself out.”
Cassidy groaned, covering her face with both hands.
Liam leaned in again, but this time, his mouth brushed her ear.
“Next time,” he said, “you should probably avoid spruce trees. Dim lighting. And me.”
Cassidy was pretty sure her knees melted into marshmallow fluff.
She didn’t say a word. But as she turned back to the sink and the cool water and her steadily flushing cheeks, she knew one thing for certain: This man was a walking temptation.
He was endangering her promised year of no men.
He was doing things to her that Jean-Paul never did.
Not even close. Jean-Paul had been a cold, calculated performance.
Liam was heat and passion. There was promise in his eyes of the wicked things he could do.
And heaven help her, she wanted to experience them all.