Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
T he doorbell rang at Sophie's little blue house that Sunday afternoon at one thirty. Sophie was in the kitchen in a pair of underwear and a massive sweatshirt, her hair in a messy bun, working tirelessly on a brand-new recipe for butterscotch Christmas cookies. The idea was to always offer new, inventive recipes with Culinary Tastings. The idea was always to remain eager to learn.
Sophie had no idea who could be at the door. Maybe it was her neighbor with extra Christmas cookies. Like I need more sugar! Maybe it was Cindy, out for a walk after a heinous weekend with sick kids.
That was something about living in a small town—you never knew who was going to stop by, but you always welcomed the surprise.
Sophie grabbed a pair of pajama pants from the sofa, tugged them on, and hurried to the foyer to answer it. Not for a moment did she consider that the somebody at the door would be someone she wanted to impress.
She didn't even look through the window to see who it might be.
When she opened the door, her heart jumped into her throat. Derek Brownlee was on her front stoop, wearing all black like always, his dark curls wild from the December winds, his cheeks red. He looked cold, like he needed a cup of tea and a big, fuzzy blanket. Maybe a hug, too.
How had he figured out where she lived?
"Derek?" Sophie hated how her voice sounded: so small and frightened. The Grinch himself might as well have stormed up to her front door. "Um. Hi?"
Derek tugged his hair. "I'm sorry for coming by like this. I was just on a walk, and I happened to see—" Derek gestured toward her mailbox on the road, where her name "MASTERS" was written in big block letters. Beside the name was a sticker with the logo for Culinary Tastings, which Cindy had drawn up for her the same year Sophie had founded the company. Ever since she'd rented the headquarters for Culinary Tastings and had all mail sent there, Sophie had completely forgotten she'd put the logo on her mailbox.
"Right," Sophie said. "It couldn't be anyone else's house, I guess!" She tried to laugh, then glanced down at what she was wearing and shivered.
"Actually, this is embarrassing," Derek said.
"It's embarrassing for me," Sophie quipped with a big laugh. "Look at what I'm wearing!"
"No. It's embarrassing for me," Derek said, his voice more urgent. "I got lost in my thoughts and walked too far. I'm miles away from my cabin and frozen solid."
Just then, a frigid wind blasted through them. Sophie grimaced. "Get inside!" she ordered. "Come on!"
Sophie didn't have time to think twice. Before she knew it, Derek Brownlee was standing awkwardly in her foyer, looking at her. Why had she picked the pajama bottoms with the cartoon princesses? Why hadn't she washed her hair after she'd done yoga this morning? What if she smelled?
Derek looked as though he'd walked into the freezer at Culinary Tastings headquarters and stayed in there for too long.
"Take your coat off!" Sophie cried, sounding more like her mother than she ever had. "Let me make you some tea."
Derek unbuttoned his coat and hung it on the coatrack in the foyer. Sophie tried to resist looking at him. She didn't want to know what he really thought about her decor—the photographs of her family, the poster she'd bought on a trip to Naples, Florida, the painting Cindy had made for her when they were teenagers.
"Wait a minute," Derek said, pressing his hand to his chest.
"What's up?" Sophie spun around in the doorway between the kitchen and the foyer.
A strange smile crept over Derek's face. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."
Sophie tilted her head. "Come on. Tell me." Her heart was beating like a hummingbird.
Derek ran his red fingers through his hair again. Was that what he did when he was nervous? He so rarely did it on set.
It was hard to believe this was the same man who'd screamed so angrily those first few days. The same man who'd belittled her for her Christmas decorations at the culinary stand.
That's when Sophie realized what was up. Her jaw dropped. "Oh my gosh."
A smile spread across Derek's face. "Did you just notice?"
Sophie couldn't breathe. She felt stricken. "How could I have let this happen?"
Sophie raced into the kitchen to hide from him. Her heart was fully pounding now. Derek's laughter behind her was kind and passionate. With a flail of her arm, she filled the kettle, then spread her hands out on the counter and turned to watch him stride into the kitchen. He was looking more comfortable now. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.
"I forgot," she said softly.
"Sophie Masters forgot to put up Christmas decorations in her own home," Derek said, clucking his tongue. "Did you use all of them for the Culinary Tastings stand? Did you use all of them to shove them in my face?" He was smiling openly.
Sophie couldn't believe they were joking about this. It was night and day compared to their first moments together.
Sophie closed her eyes and laughed. "Believe it or not, I have a mountain of more Christmas decorations in the attic. But I've been so slammed with work. I'm always on set or at headquarters, and I'm hardly here. And when I am here, I'm thinking about recipes, and catering, and keeping my catering company alive, and..." The kettle bubbled louder.
Derek sat down at the kitchen table and assessed the mess she'd made in pursuit of the new butterscotch Christmas dessert.
"It almost makes me think it was all an act," Derek said. His voice was teasing. "You were just shoving Christmas cheer in my face because you knew it upset me."
Sophie's heart seized. "I didn't know you were anti-Christmas because of what happened to Georgia. I'm so, so sorry about that."
Derek waved his hands. "It's really okay. Don't worry."
The air was taut. Sophie wasn't sure what it meant. Was she just so attracted to him that she couldn't handle being around him? Or did she not trust him?
She certainly liked him. But she didn't know if she wanted to like him.
"What are we going to do about it?" Derek asked.
Sophie raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
"Are we going to decorate your house together?"
Sophie laughed. "I can't imagine you know your way around tinsel and mistletoe."
Immediately, her heart seized again. Why did I have to bring up mistletoe?
The kettle whistled, and Sophie hurried to pour water into two mugs. "What kind of tea do you like?" she asked, grateful for something else to talk about rather than Christmas, mistletoe, and his wife's death.
Derek opted for peppermint. Sophie put the bag in the mug and set it down in front of him. "I should clean all this up," she said of the butterscotch dough.
"No," he insisted. "I don't want to interrupt your day. Keep going." He tilted his head, then added, "I could listen to some Christmas music, though. If you want that."
Sophie was flabbergasted. What does he want?
"You can tell me if it becomes too difficult to listen to," she said softly.
Sophie set up her Bluetooth speaker and played jazzy Christmas tunes. She also turned up the heat, so worried was she about Derek's bluish fingers. But just as soon as he began to sip the tea, his coloring came back; his smile became brighter.
"What inspires you to make a new recipe?" Derek asked as she worked.
"That's easy," Sophie said with a laugh. "I love so many different flavors, and sometimes, I want to bring those flavors together and see what happens. It's more like experimentation in pursuit of a brand-new, favorite dessert or meal. It's pretty selfish, when you think about it. I'm just hungry and eager for something else!"
"You love food," Derek said thoughtfully.
"Of course! Don't you?"
"I think I used to," Derek offered. "I've sort of lost my appetite over the years. Then again, Culinary Tastings has opened a door for me. I'm hungrier than I've been in years. You saw me last night. I wolfed down that pizza."
"You didn't wolf it down," Sophie said, using a spoon to dollop out the butterscotch dough onto a cookie sheet. "You ate it at a normal speed! And it was delicious! It was there to be eaten!"
"In California, people would have looked at me strangely," Derek admitted.
"I don't know if you noticed, but we're not in California!" Sophie said.
Derek laughed. "Can I help you with that?"
Sophie was surprised. She glanced up and looked into his eyes. For the first time in over a half hour, she remembered she was wearing princess pajamas and a big sweatshirt with multiple stains on it. How had she forgotten that? Why didn't she care anymore?
This is a pretty strange first date, she thought.
And then she reminded herself: This isn't a first date.
Maybe he's just grateful I listened to him at the bar the other night.
Maybe he's lonely.
"If you want," Sophie said. "But you have to wash your hands first."
"Gladly."
After he scrubbed his hands with soap and water, Sophie showed Derek how to dollop the butterscotch dough onto the sheet. It was relatively simple and certainly something he could have figured out himself.
Maybe he just wants an excuse to stand close to me?
I hope I don't smell!
"You're a natural," Sophie said with a smile.
"I learned from the best," he said.
When the butterscotch cookies were in the oven, Sophie and Derek went to the living room with fresh mugs of tea. It was nearly three in the afternoon, and Derek had been here for more than an hour. Sophie had no idea when he planned to leave. Should she drive him? But her car was still not working well, which meant they'd have to go to Culinary Tastings headquarters and grab the catering van.
It was not sexy to drive a Hollywood director around in a big white van. But with the pajama pants, Sophie had already shown him just how un-sexy she could be.
Sophie turned on the flames in the automatic fireplace and sat on the opposite end of the sofa from him. Christmas music continued to pour out of the Bluetooth speaker.
"You don't even have a Christmas tree," he said, shaking his head and laughing.
Sophie hung her head and laughed, too. "Leave me alone," she cooed. "I've been working so hard."
"Me too," Derek said somberly. "I've been in over my head since I got to Willow Creek."
Sophie turned to look at him again. The firelight danced across his cheeks and glinted off his dark curls. She fought the urge to move over and put her head on his shoulder.
"But the strange thing is," Derek said, "I've started to think that being around people might make me happier. Who would have thought?" He smiled with sarcasm.
"It's wild. It turns out, people really need communities. It's exactly what every anthropologist has ever said. Who knew they were right?" Sophie agreed with a big laugh. "My sister always accuses me of being too immersed in my plans for Culinary Tastings to ever get a life. Whatever that means."
"You have a life!" Derek said. "That's plain to me."
Sophie decided not to tell him that getting a life, for Sophie's family, meant having a family of your own. It meant getting married. It meant having children.
It felt as though there was a knife in Sophie's stomach, suddenly. She stood as tears filled her eyes.
She thought: It's never going to happen for me, is it?
Here I am, wasting the afternoon with Derek Brownlee.
What is it all for?
"Sophie, what's the matter?" Derek asked. His voice changed, deepened. Sophie could tell he was worried about her.
Sophie hurried to the kitchen. "I just need to check the butterscotch cookies."
Out of sight, Sophie pressed her forehead against the cool of the window and breathed in, then out.
For a moment, and not because she wanted to, Sophie thought about the day Jeremy had broken up with her. It had been here in the house they'd shared. Here, where he'd taken her hands in his and said, "I just don't see a future between us anymore. I'm sorry."
Anyone can abandon you at any time.
They can break up with you.
They can move away from you.
They can die.
Suddenly, Sophie felt Derek's shadow in the kitchen. She whirled around to face him. Derek clasped his hands together and held her gaze.
He'd caught her.
But before Sophie could explain herself, the buzzer for the butterscotch cookies sounded. It was time to take them out of the oven.
Sophie fled for the oven door, yanked it open, and pulled the tray out as carefully as she could. All the while, she felt Derek's eyes upon her.
But mercifully, he didn't ask what was on her mind. He could tell she didn't want to talk about it.
Instead, he clapped his hands and said, "Shall we have a taste-test?"
Sophie had tears in her eyes as she smiled. "You have to be honest with me. I can't handle liars in my kitchen."
"I'll never lie to you, Sophie Masters." His face was solemn. Sophie thought she might faint.
Slowly, carefully, he removed a butterscotch cookie from the cookie sheet and took a decadent, gooey bite.
He closed his eyes.
He moaned.
And then he said, with his eyes still clamped shut, "That's the best thing I've ever tasted in my life."
What could Sophie do but believe him?