Page 100 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
She leans closer to me. “If this is some sort of way to get under my skin, fake me out, and mess with my head, it’s not going to work. So you can take your forehead talk somewhere else.”
“Whatever you say,” I reply, keeping my head down, not wanting her to spot my red cheeks.
She grumbles something under her breath and then goes back to setting up her station. Max is filling out our ingredient form with Tanya, letting her know everything that’s involved in our fruitcake while I attempt to settle my racing heart.
And why is it racing, you might ask?
Don’t think it’s from seeing Storee, because that’s not the case at all. I’m nervous about the competition. As a last-minute item, Max grabbed pineapple and said it was a needed addition while we were at the Myrrh-cantile. I told him pineapple wasn’t in the recipe, but he’s seen it in others, and it was the ingredient we were missing. I think the only thing we’re missing is common sense in baking.
So yeah, nice try, but these nerves have nothing to do with Storee.
“And I’ll have you know,” Storee says, coming out of nowhere and invading my station, “I have an unbeatable fruitcake recipe. Aunt Cindy took first last year, and we’re replicating the same recipe.”
Great.
Just what I need to hear.
Especially when we just tossed pineapple into the mix.
But not wanting to show an ounce of fear, I turn toward her. “Yeah, well, does your fruitcake have pineapple in it?”
“It does,” she replies with a lift of her chin.
Huh, okay.
Maybe this won’t be so bad then.
“Dates?”
“If your fruitcake doesn’t have dates, then it’s not a fruitcake,” she counters.
“What about…uh…walnuts?”
“Face it, Cole, we have a good recipe and you know it, so you’re trying to throw me off with your forehead talk.”
Yup, that’s exactly what I was trying to do.
I wasn’t fumbling around, thinking about the kiss we shared, or how pretty she looks today, or the fact that the feelings I’ve tried to repress for a long time are miraculously starting to show up out of the goddamn blue.
It was a kiss, dickhead.
Get the fuck over it!
“It’s not going to work. So why don’t you worry about yourself and focus on not making Tanya gag rather than coming up with something stupid to distract me?”
“Well, you got me.” I shrug. “Guess I should leave your forehead alone.”
“Best you do.” She taps on my worktable. “Wishing you the worst of luck. I hope you burn the shit out of your fruitcake.”
I grip my chest. “The way you flirt, it really cuts me deep, Storee.”
“Did I hear flirting over here?” Tanya says as she walks up to us, a huge smile on her face.
“Trying not to,” I say, “but when she shows up to the competition looking beautiful, I can’t hold back.” I let out a sigh and tilt my head toward Tanya. “I think she’s trying to distract me, Tanya, so excuse me if my fruitcake is a little off today. I’m going to be fighting an inner war between paying attention to what I’m doing and trying to catch glimpses of her.”
Tanya gleefully looks between us. “Oh, after I heard about the kiss, I know what I’m dealing with. Don’t worry.” She winks in my direction. “I’ll take your crush into consideration.”
I press my hands together. “Thank you, Tanya. Now, to get my head in the game…shit, one more hug.”
