Muffins And Mistletoe (A Starlight Hills Holiday Novella) Page 2

  Was that so wrong?

  Love from the oven and into their hearts. She had a calling, and like anyone who received the call of a higher power, she accepted her fate and embraced it.

  She knew what people around town called her, and she didn't mind. The "Matchmaking Muffin Maven" was her favorite these days, but being the "Starlight Hills Cupid" wasn't bad either. She preferred to believe she was cooking up love muffins in her little bake shop.

  George was happy that their bake shop had always been been in the black, so he rarely did more than raise an eyebrow at her antics. This time was different, and she'd known she'd have an uphill battle pulling this off with him hot on her heels, but love would prevail—of that she had no doubt.

  She wasn't fooling around this time, not with a heart on the line as important as this one.

  When he didn't respond, she walked around him. "Have a muffin, honey. And try to relax."

  He trailed her into the kitchen, like a bloodhound latched on to a scent. "Auctioning men off to women is just wrong. If a man is interested in a woman he asks her out—it's that simple."

  "You make it sound so sordid and dirty. It's not a slave auction, George. It's a one-night date."

  He reached for a gingerbread muffin from the cooling rack, his lips curling at the edges in his classic look of annoyance. "It's crossing the line. I don't think Chief Conway is going to like this either."

  She couldn't believe he had just resorted to dropping the name of the chief of police. Right after the holiday she was going to make an appointment with the doctor for George. He was obviously a few eggs short of a dozen to even suggest she was doing something against the law!

  Frustrated, she shoved her hands into her red oven mitts and pulled the cranberry crumb muffins from the oven while shaking her head. "You do know his wife Roxanne is on the committee, right?"

  He reached for a second muffin and this time she slapped his hand.

  "Besides, it's all in good fun and we'll raise money we need to restore the Gallagher Movie Theater." She paused to touch his arm and went in for the kill. "Don't you believe in our cause, George? We had our first date there. You remember, don't you?"

  His brow furrowed with her well-played guilt-laden line. It wasn't often in their thirty-five years of marriage she'd resorted to guilt, but this time it was necessary to get him on board. If the women in this town had to wait for the men to do all the asking, they were in big trouble. Their stubborn son, Jimmy, was no exception. Aside from providing Corinne with a two-by-four to hit him over the head, this was Bitty's next best idea. She'd get those two under the mistletoe tonight if she had to drag them both kicking and screaming.

  The auction was the perfect blend of fundraising the town desperately needed, good holiday fun and a chance for some of the single ladies of Starlight Hills to take a chance on love.

  George stared her down and tried to look stern, his brown eyes narrowing. "Did the rest of your committee agree to this?"

  "In fact, it was almost unanimous." Bitty nodded and began loading her gingerbread muffins onto the tray, leaving two to be hand delivered to Corinne Mackenzie.

  He folded his arms across his chest, shaking his full head of thick salt and pepper hair. "It's the almost that concerns me."

  * * *

  "Talking about me?" Jimmy walked in through the back door, letting it slam shut behind him.

  Both his parents jumped and then turned and smiled, but he didn't think it was his imagination the mood was a little frosty in there that morning. He'd bet the last twenty in his wallet the chill in the air had nothing to do with the near-freezing temperatures outside and everything to do with his love life. Or lack thereof. A situation his mother probably planned to change as soon as possible. He wasn't an idiot. His mother loved Corinne, thought she was perfect for him.

  Apparently Corinne didn't get that memo.

  His heart ached whenever he thought of her, then he kicked himself for being so stupid. She'd publicly rejected him and his proposal. He wanted to believe her yesterday. Her tears were so real they ground his gut into sawdust. And her words were so sincere he'd almost kissed her right in the middle of the hall before he caught himself and walked away. He'd been a fool for too long already.

  After dating for three years and knowing each other their whole lives, how much more time should she need? He'd been embarrassed at the Thanksgiving table in front of family and friends when she'd politely declined. The past week had been hell, and a few tears and tender words weren't enough to sway him.

  He stomped his feet on the mat to rid his work boots of any snow that still clung to the soles, just like Corinne had stomped on his heart. He shook it off and headed over to the coffee carafes waiting to be moved to the front of the store.

  His father uncrossed his arms and leaned over to shake Jimmy's hand as he walked by. "Why do you think we're talking about you? Guilty conscience, son?"

  "Hardly. How about yours?" He nodded in his mother's direction.

  "You know your mother. She's always up to something."

  Jimmy forced a laugh, grabbed two large cups off the shelf and poured steaming coffee into each one. "Don't let me interrupt you two. I just need to grab a couple muffins and coffees to go. Dalton's meeting me here in a few minutes. We have a busy day ahead hanging lights around town, and Wendy's drywall isn't going to hang itself."

  His mother sighed. "I'm glad Wendy has finally decided to fix up the place. I guess she needed a little more time to be sure she was ready to commit to a change."

  "Whatever keeps us working, I'm not complaining."

  "You know she's been thinking about redoing that room for a few months now, hasn't she? It's scary making changes you have to live with a long time, I know it's been hard for her."

  "It's paint Mom, not a lifelong commitment." He glanced at the clock on the wall over the sink, hoping she'd get the hint he wasn't here to talk. He knew where she was headed with this and he wasn't talking about it with her at seven in the morning over breakfast. He wasn't twelve anymore. "Just give me two muffins, please. I gotta get going."

  Damn the allure of a free breakfast. He should have paid attention to that little voice in his head that begged him to stop at Charlie's Coffee Hut instead. A few prepackaged donuts wouldn't have killed him.

  She tsked. "I hope Dalton's going to come in. It's been too long since we've seen him." His mother wiped her hands with a paper towel and handed him lids for the cups he poured. Still no muffins. Her eyebrows arched as she looked at him with a hopeful smile.

  She expected him to drag Dalton in here so she could get a good look at him, to peer into his soul and then start meddling in his life, too. The wheels in her head were spinning, hiding behind the bright blue eyes and beneath the hair-net.

  For a split second Jimmy considered serving Dalton to her on a silver platter if that would get her off his back—but he couldn't do that to his friend.

  Why couldn't she just give him the muffins? He snapped the lids on the cups. "Dalton's not coming in. I told him to pick me up out front. Just need those two muffins to go, Mom."

  "That's too bad. I guess we'll just see him tonight. Won't we, George?"

  His father grinned at her, then grabbed his mug off the stainless island and poured his own cup of coffee. "If I had the choice, I wouldn't go. Maybe Dalton has a date. Leave the boys alone, Elizabeth."

  He twisted to the side to avoid the towel she swung at his arm.

  "Gingerbread muffins okay, Jimmy?" his mother asked, her voice dripping with sweetness and mischief.

  Just like that, the chill in the air was back. He couldn't go five minutes without something reminding him of Corinne. Now he couldn't even escape her in the kitchen of his own mother's bake-shop. Those gingerbread muffins were Corinne's favorite, but his mother knew that and it was part of her scheme. She was up to her tricks. One of these days he wouldn't be surprised if he walked in and found her with a crystal ball at the back table.

  "I don'
t have time for this right now," he said. "Give me two blueberries and I'll leave you two to get back to whatever it is I walked in on."

  "Jimmy, I don't know what you're talking about. Your father and I were just chatting about the gala tonight. You know all those last-minute details that need to be done." She grabbed a yellow bag from the counter and walked over to the cooling rack, the little smirk on her face telling him everything he needed to know.

  "Like dragging me down to help set up yesterday? Dalton could have done it, but that didn't suit your nefarious plot, did it?"

  "Okay, fine. I admit I'm worried about you, that's all. I am your mother after all. We're all worried about you. You sure you can't stay for a few minutes? Maybe we should talk about Thanksgiving. You can't just bottle it up. It's not healthy." She touched his arm and smiled.

  His jaw clenched. "I'm not talking about Thanksgiving."

  "But Corinne—"

  "I'm not talking about Thanksgiving."

  She wasn't going to let Corinne go that easily, but what about his pride? What about his heart?

  His father leaned against the island and watched her wrap up the muffins. "Maybe Jimmy's too busy to go to the gala tonight," he said, coming to Jimmy's aid—not that it would do any good against the force that was Bitty Crane once she was on a mission.

  His mother's eyes opened wide. "Of course he's not too busy, George. He wouldn't dream of missing it."

  "I gotta go." Jimmy grabbed the bag of muffins from her without meeting her eyes.

  As the clock on the wall chimed seven, he juggled the bag of muffins and both coffees and leaned against the swinging door leading out into the shop. Balancing his breakfast in his arms, he got to the front door and jolted to a stop.

  Standing there in the cold with her blonde curls swirling around her face, Corinne stared back at him.

  She stood beside the window. The dark red coat, with its billows of fluffy down, hid the curves of the slender body he knew so well. Her breath puffed from her lips, lips that trembled in the morning cold as her eyes took in the full displays of muffins and cupcakes before rising to meet his.

  Nothing would make him happier than to drag her into his arms and warm those lips with his.

  But a kiss wouldn't solve anything. It was a physical need that would go unfulfilled. His heart needed more.

  Still, he couldn't pretend he didn't see her. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he opened the door.

  Tomorrow he was definitely going to Charlie's Coffee Hut.

  THREE

  Corinne walked inside the Itty Bitty Bake Shop while Jimmy held the door open. She brushed past him and inhaled the clean smell of his soap mingling with the coffee and fresh muffins from the shop. Home. That was what it smelled like, what it felt like, to walk through a door with him on the other side. She'd always known in her heart that this man meant everything to her, that walking through any door and into his arms was all she would ever need.

  Yet, at that table last week, she'd let her head convince her she needed more time. She'd looked over at her brother, alone and divorced after less than a year of marriage. Then she'd thought about their parents and the years of fighting after they split up when she was five. Instead of comparing their relationships to hers, she should have been looking in the eyes of the man she loved and let her heart do the thinking. What she wouldn't give to be able to go back and do it all over again. The right way this time.

  The tiny bell over the entry jingled as the bake-shop door closed behind her and forced her thoughts back to the present. She scanned the deserted shop, each table with a small potted poinsettia in the center. Soon the regular morning crowd would bring the little shop to life. She tried not to look into Jimmy's eyes, not wanting to see the hurt she caused, but she couldn't help herself. For a second, their gazes locked, and then he quickly turned his head. She couldn't blame him, but she wasn't ready to give up.

  She'd hoped for a few minutes alone with his mother to go over their plan for tonight. Catching him here now was an added bonus.

  She removed her gloves, shoved them in her pockets and swallowed the nervous lump in her throat, knowing she had to say something. "Thanks for letting me in. It's freezing out there this morning." She tugged on the red and green scarf looped around her neck as she stood there, hoping he'd stay and not rush out the door.

  "Supposed to be below freezing all week, I hear." He shrugged and reached to retrieve the bag off the table by the window where he'd left it before opening the door for her. "I guess you're here for the gala committee meeting."

  "Yes. Perfect timing to catch a ride into town with Dalton, too."

  "Speaking of your patient brother, he's waiting for me. I should go." He was eager to escape, but also too polite to grab his muffins and run. No matter how angry or upset he was with anyone, his character would never allow him to be rude. It was one of the many qualities she loved about him. She'd latch on to any opportunity that might enable her to get back into his good graces. If he wanted her to run barefoot and naked out into Triangle Park and dance around the Christmas tree proclaiming she was as idiot, she'd probably do that too.

  She decided not to suggest that.

  With a tentative smile, she looked up at him and hoped it would be contagious. "He's in the truck, but..." She tilted her head and tried to gauge just how long being polite would last before he raced out and away from her. "You might want to give him a few minutes alone, though. He's not in a good mood this morning. Maybe if he came in and had breakfast here—"

  "No…no, that's definitely not a good idea." Jimmy quickly said with a quirky grin while looking over his shoulder at the door to the kitchen.

  She followed his gaze, and while she knew he was talking about his mother, Corinne only noticed the mistletoe hanging on a small hook above the swinging door. She simply couldn't pass up the gift that little sprig of holiday magic offered, right then, right there.

  "You know, your mother was right about Dalton and Melanie." She undid the top button of her coat and took a step toward him, the heels of her boots clicking on the tiled floor.

  He stepped backward and watched her every move, following her fingers as they slowly undid the rest of her coat buttons. Why didn't she have the foresight to wear something more provocative? The black ankle-length skirt she wore beneath her coat would hardly tempt him. Though, from the way his eyes were focused on her, she might not be so sure.

  With his hands full of coffee and the bag of muffins, he didn't have a free hand to zip up the down vest he wore over a gray flannel shirt. In fact, he didn't have a free hand to do anything but move his feet. His work boots scuffed across the floor as he tried to move away, but she blocked his path to the door. When his breath hitched slightly, she knew he might be losing his battle for control. She took advantage of his discomfort and let her gaze linger on the sensual curve of his lips before continuing down to the base of his throat, where the muscles in his neck moved when he swallowed. And he swallowed hard, spurring her on. A few dark curls peeked out from the neckline of his white undershirt, sending shock waves of warm twitches along her fingertips.

  There was something so sexy about a man in jeans and a flannel shirt. No pretenses, no overblown ego, simply a hardworking man with muscles naturally honed from his trade. There was no place she'd ever felt safer, or more loved, than in the arms of Jimmy Crane.

  Now wasn't the time to remind herself how stupid she'd been. She needed to focus on making everything right again. So she moved another step closer. "Your mom's got a sense, Jimmy. Even Dalton says he should have listened to her."

  Jimmy cleared his throat. "Her lucky streak continues. Good for her."

  "It's more than luck. Give her credit. I've never known her to be wrong. Have you?" she questioned, inching toward him with her fingers running along the side of her neck.

  "You can call it whatever you want, but all streaks come to an end." His jean-clad backside hit the glass display and he moved to his right. The bag cri
nkled as his grip tightened. "Maybe you should do an article on her for the Herald."

  "I'm covering the gala, but thanks for the idea. She would make a good interview."

  Only a few more feet and he'd be right where she needed him to be. Corinne leaned in, so close her coat bumped against the muffin bag in his hands. Her heart threatened to beat right out of her sweater and burst through the front of her coat. Her pulse pounded in her ears, but she pressed forward. This was her chance. She wasn't going to blow it.

  Corinne looked into his deep blue eyes and knew that was where her future was. When he met her stare, the smallest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. He was softening. She could feel it down to the tips of her red-painted toes.