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She hustles over to the single-cup coffee maker and pops in a pod. When it’s finished brewing, she pours just the right amount of cream in and passes it to me.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks with a laugh.
“Are you the same woman who was pissed last night?”
“Yeah.” She cringes. “Sorry.”
“How are you not hungover?”
“I never get hungover,” she says and wrinkles her nose. “I know, it’s not fair. I also don’t drink much, so just a couple of drinks make me completely tipsy. It’s ridiculous. I’m a cheap date, and I feel great the next morning.”
I bite into a muffin and almost fall out of my chair. This might be the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.
Until I taste her.
“Well? What do you think?”
“I think I’ll be eating this whole platter.”
She laughs and goes to work rolling out cookie dough.
“That’s okay. I have more set aside for tomorrow. Do you have plans today?”
I sip my coffee and watch her move about the kitchen. Her movements are concise. Sure. When she reaches above her head for another bowl, I catch a glimpse of pale skin at her stomach, and it’s almost enough to bring me to my knees.
“Nick?”
“Yes?”
“Do you have plans?”
“No.”
“Good. You can help me decorate all of these cookies. Then we’ll take them and deliver them to people.”
“Why?”
She frowns. “Because it’s fun.”
I reach for another muffin.
“Haven’t you ever made Christmas cookies before?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
She wiggles a cookie cutter in flour and then pauses, looking at me. “Did your parents die in a fire, leaving you to be raised in an orphanage?”
I bark out a laugh of surprise. “No.”
“Good.”
“My parents died in a car accident when I was a boy. I was raised by my grandmother.”
Her face pales. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“Your grandmother didn’t believe in Christmas?”
“She worked long hours. She’s a good woman. And she did what she could. But I can’t say that holidays were at the top of her priority list.”
“I think that’s sad.”
“I don’t.”
I pop the last of the muffin into my mouth and lean back, watching her. “Listen, there’s no need to feel sorry for me. I had a good childhood, and then I went into the military. Special Forces. After I got out, I started working for the royal family. I’m able to help my grandmother, and I like my job very much.”
“Well, that’s good.”
“And what about you?”
She starts cutting shapes into the cookie dough. “What about me?”
“Tell me about your family.”
“Oh. Sure. Well, my dad died when I was twelve—massive heart attack at forty-five. It was completely out of the blue. So, it’s only been my mom and me for a long time. No siblings. I do have a lot of cousins, as I mentioned, and a huge network of people in this community. My family has been in Cunningham Falls for generations.”
“So you know Liam Cunningham?”
“I know his family, but I’ve never met him. Didn’t he just marry the princess?”
“Earlier this year,” I confirm.
“It’s a small world,” Jordan says. “And now you need to come over here and help me. I’m not going to do all the work and let you take the credit when we deliver these.”
“I think watching is safest.”
“No way.” She comes around the island, takes my hand, and drags me back around with her. “Come on. You’re not afraid of some hard work, are you?”
She wasn’t kidding. We spent all day baking and decorating, and when it was time to run around town with our goods, I was covered in flour and sugar and tired. But it was fun to see the reactions when we surprised people with the cookies. We even took a big box to the royal house and delivered some to Sebastian, Nina, Ellie, and Liam, then more down at HQ.
Jordan was bubbly and happy and made sure to tell everyone that I helped her.
Liam will never let me live it down.
But now, we’re back at the little lake house, sitting with a pizza by the fire.
“Oh my God, this tastes so good,” she says. “Ciao makes some damn good pizza.”
“I’m exhausted,” I admit, and Jordan narrows her eyes at me.
“You overdid it. Is your shoulder hurting?”
“No, all of me hurts.” I laugh and shift in my chair. “How is it possible that I work my ass off and feel fine, but one day of baking has me aching?”
“Because you’re not used to it,” she says. “Totally normal. You need a hot shower.”
“How do you feel?”
“Tired, but good. It was fun to deliver the cookies today. I had a good time. You did a great job, by the way.”
“Oh, I think it was pretty obvious which ones I decorated, and which ones were yours. But I tried.”
“You didn’t do too bad for a newbie.”
“You’re always so upbeat. Happy.”
“Being sad is a waste of time,” she says with a shrug. She takes a bite of her pizza. Sauce lingers at the corner of her mouth. Before she can lick it away, I reach out, swipe at it with my finger, and then lick it off. Her eyes dilate.
