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“See these wires?” He holds up the sections of lights he’s cut from the longer strand and shows me exposed wires. “I attach them to this battery pack.” He holds up a tiny plastic box and rigs the wires to it. “Then I’ll wind them around the antlers.”
He wraps electrical tape around one end of the lights, then opens a small hole at the tip of the antlers, and tucks that end inside. After winding the lights loosely over that side of the moose rack so the light bulbs hang down, he does the same with the other side and another short string of lights. He attaches both sides to the battery pack. “Mrs. C. can create a pocket on the inside of the beanie to tuck this into. All you have to do is flip this little switch, and, voila!” He holds up Charly’s lit moose rack beanie with pride. “You’ve got a rack no one will miss.”
I don’t miss the mischievous glint that sneaks into his eyes when he says the last part. I try to glare at him, but it takes too much effort to hold back my laugh.
“Genius,” I say with a smile. “The hat, not the line. Now do mine.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He pretends innocence as he starts work on my hat. “I’m just saying you had a nice rack before, but thismooserack is going to be lit.”
I burst out laughing. “You may have more to learn about kids, but you’ve definitely got the dad jokes down.”
He beams, and I don’t think it’s just because he made me laugh.
“What’s your favorite thing to bake? Like, do you have a favorite family recipe or something like that?” I ask.
I enjoy watching his fingers move quickly and with assurance as he goes through the steps of cutting, stripping, and splicing wires together. Even more than that, I’m impressed by the easy confidence he has creating something he thought of fifteen minutes ago.
“Actually,” he pauses. “And I’m not telling you this because you’re a wedding planner, but Aunt Heidi taught me how to make wedding cakes. They were my favorite thing to make with her when I was a teenager working at the Garden part time. I don’t know why, but—”
“—Hold up. You make wedding cakes?”
Seb shrugs. “I mean, I know how. I’ve never actually made one for a wedding. At least not one anyone knows about. Heidi let me make a couple by myself that she’d been hired to do. She never told the people I was the one who did all the work.”
“Well, I happen to be involved in the planning of a little double wedding you may have heard about, and I’ve fired the baker. So, basically, I’m in the market for a new one.” I move a little closer because he may have just solved a huge problem for me. “You can make them look pretty? And they taste good?”
“Of course, I can.” Seb switches on the lights on my rack and holds them up. “What do you think, I take pride in ugly, yucky cakes?”
He smiles at me with an openness that makes my breath catch, and seconds pass before I can respond.
“I think you’re the baker I want,” I say in a voice that invites him closer.
A flicker of understanding crosses Seb’s face, and the air grows tight between us. Then he steps between my legs, so my knees are at his waist, and puts the blinking moose rack on my head. “You sure you don’t want to sample the goods first?”
I can’t fight the smile that spreads across my face or the temptation to wrap my arms around his neck. So I don’t. I let the smile out and slide my hands across his shoulders to meet at the nape of his neck.
“If I remember right, I’ve sampled them before, and they were more than good.”
“We’re not talking about cake anymore, are we?” His hands cup my waist, and I shake my head.
We both move in to close the little distance left between us. The air is charged with electricity, and not just because of the blinking lights flashing on both sides of my head.
For months I’ve resisted hoping for Seb to kiss me again, but I’ve never stopped thinking about what it feels like to have his lips on mine.
In the almost two weeks I’ve been back in Paradise, I’ve resisted being pulled into his orbit again, while wanting it so much.
Now my whole body relaxes into his arms as I lay down my armor and give up fighting the inevitable. This kiss is happening. I don’t know what comes after—there's a lot that still needs to be worked out--but I’m definitely ready to enjoy this moment.
His lips graze mine, teasing and tempting me to scramble for more, but I hold back. I let him take the lead, returning his next soft kiss just as gently. When our mouths meet again, it’s with more wanting, and we don’t part as quickly.
When Seb pulls back, a smile plays at his lips, and I know we’re done going slow. He slides his hand under my jaw, curling his fingers through my loose hair, and I tip my face to his. He moves closer, and I close my eyes, my blood pulsing with anticipation.
“—Sebastian! Hope!” Mrs. C.’s voice echoes around the entire back room, slicing through the mere inches—no centimeters—between Seb’s lips and mine.
Seb jumps backward, and I yank my hands from his neck, then peek around him. Mrs. C. leans through the doorway with half of her body still in the hallway.
“Oh. Sorry,” she says in her sweetest grandma voice. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
“You didn’t interrupt anything,” Seb says in a rush from the other end of the table where he’s picking up and setting down different tools for no reason I can decipher.
