Page 41 of A Newport Christmess

“That is a strangely specific duty.”

I gave an innocent shrug. “Legal precedent. You must not have been the first person to have a reaction.”

She graciously laughed at my lame lawyer joke and opened the door wider.

When I carried the box inside, the collection of fully assembled gingerbread houses caught my eye. “You’ve been busy.”

“I still have to decorate them all.” She gave a small pout and returned to her seat.

“I’m sorry if lunch and the Cliff Walk yesterday put you behind schedule.”

She smiled. “It was worth it. I’m still reeling over the fact that those mansions were people’s summer cottages.”

“The gilded mansions are some of the closest things the U.S. has to English manor houses. You know, like Jane Austen.”

Her hand with the frosting dropped to the table, and there was a look of panic in her eyes. “Why did you say Jane Austen like that?”

I gave a casual lift of my shoulder. “I may have scrolled through your feed.”

She groaned and tossed her head back.

“Interesting response. I’m not sure I’ve met an influencer who doesn’t like people following them.”

Her gaze snapped back to me. “You followed me?”

I laughed. “Should I not have?”

“No. It’s fine. I just get weird when people from my real life follow me. How did you find my account, anyway?”

“Nikki tagged you in that picture from Bowen’s Wharf.”

She gave a heavy nod, like it wasn’t the first time that picture had caused her grief.

I set out each section of the Christmas tree from the box. “Explain your handle to me: TheKookieCook. From what I could see on your feed, you don’t cook—you bake.”

“Kookie has a double meaning. The more evident part is that I’m a bit ... well, kooky. It’s also cookie with a k, as a nod to all the baking I do. And Cook happens to be my last name.”

“Ah. Is it strange that I didn’t know that? I feel like it is.” I paused, mustering the courage to continue. “That, and I don’t have your number yet.”

The corners of her mouth curled upward. “All things considered, that does seem like an oversight. We can’t pretend we’re developing feelings for each other and not have exchanged numbers.” She put down her frosting, walked over to me, and extended her hand. “If I could see your phone ... I don’t currently know where mine is.”

I handed it over, and as I watched her add her number to my contact list, my gaze swept over her petite features and large blue eyes. She truly was stunning but in a way that was approachable.

“Numbers have officially been exchanged.” She handed my phone back, and a distant ding sounded. “And you already texted me.”

I glanced at the screen to find my texts open and one to Quinn that said: Hey, beautiful. It’s Landon.

Quinn gave a mischievous grin. “In case Nikki sees.” And with that, Quinn turned and walked back to her seat, my eyes trailing her the entire walk.

“I had an idea for your social media account,” I said after a few minutes. I’d managed to get the bottom portion of the tree in place on the stand and was working on separating the branches to make it look more realistic.

Her head leaned to one side. “My attention is yours, as long as it doesn’t involve any mentions of my earlier videos and posts.”

“Like the Harry Potter Potions one and your Personal Tribute to Hobbits—My Fellow Short People?”

Her eyes grew wide. “How much did you watch?”

“Let’s just say I stayed up later than I planned on. But that’s the thing. I was hooked. Your older posts and videos were hilarious and endearing—”