Page 97 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
But that’s it, nothing more, and he pulls away, both of our eyes slowly opening as we catch our breath.
Silence falls between us as he stares at me and I stare back at him.
Confusion laces both of our brows, while my lips feel like they’ve been stung yet worshipped all in the same moment.
“They’re so meant for each other,” Mae coos from the side.
“Shhh,” Martha says. “Let’s give them some space.”
From the corner of my eye, I can see them hurry away, but it doesn’t distract me as my eyes remain locked on Cole. Looking…searching for answers as to what that kiss was.
And he doesn’t seem to have any answers as he tugs on his neck.
“Uh…looks like they’re gone,” he finally says.
“Yeah, looks like it,” I reply.
“So, we should probably take off then.”
“Yup, we should,” I say, my body still buzzing, my mind reeling.
“And we can, uh, talk about that fake second date on the way back to our houses,” he says calmly, rationally.
“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”
Sounds like a plan?
What the heck just happened?
And why does a part of me want it to happen again?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Cole
Dare I say a not-so-fake romance is in the biting air?
You caught that kiss; you saw that longing stare.
Lips were locked, and they both felt it all the way to their toes.
Now the question is, will they heat up? Nobody knows.
“This tastes like shit,” Isay to Max as I toss the piece of fruitcake he cut for me into the trash.
“Yeah.” He scratches his head. “Wasn’t a fan of it either.”
“What the fuck are we going to do?” I ask. “We’re an hour away from the competition, and we can’t seem to bake a decent-tasting fruitcake to save our lives.”
“I think it might be the jam,” Max says. “Maybe we skip the jam and go for something more simple, more classic. Maybe we don’t need a secret ingredient and we should just hope that Tanya likes you enough to bypass this horrible tasting lump of cake. Which, speaking of horrible things, you never told me how the date went—you keep changing the subject.”
“I’m not changing the subject. I’m trying to figure out how to win this competition.” I stare down at our ingredients. “I know your mom saidthese candied cherries are what we need to use, but they have a waxy taste that’s very unappealing. Maybe we go with real ones.”
“Real ones have moisture, and they could make the cake soggy,” Max says.
“Given the fact that I nearly choked on the dryness of the cake we just made, we could use some moisture.”
“Maybe,” Max says, leaning against my kitchen counter. “So, we’ll do real cherries…oh, or we can do maraschino cherries.”
