Page 73 of Licking Her Christmas Cookies

“Really? Because there are tons of unflattering photos of you. Especially this one juxtaposing you with Brody.”

Matt scowled at the woodsman. He was shirtless and flambéing bananas.

“Wow,” I said appreciatively as he poured cognac in the pan and set it on fire. “He really knows how to work a skillet.”

“That is unsanitary.”

“But he’s oh so hot.”

Matt took off his jacket.

“Are you going shirtless too?” I teased, though a part of me was thinking,Yes, please. The last time Matt had been shirtless, I hadn’t had the time to fully appreciate it.

And you don’t have time now. Think about the bake-off. Think about all your debt!

Matt undid his tie, and I drooled a little. Then he unfastened his cuff links and rolled up his sleeves, and I almost came in my pants.

Heaven!

And on the left, we see our most recent art piece in our collection,The Low Standards of Merrie Ellis.

Matt picked up a knife and started hacking at my perfect pears.

“No!” I howled and handed him a mandolin. “Use that.”

I started my cranberry sauce and then scooped out the pomegranates’ ruby red seeds into a bowl.

“How are those pears coming?” I asked Matt, stepping over to inspect the slices.

“What are you doing?” I exclaimed as he sliced a pear, hand bare, not wearing the steel mesh glove I had laid out on the table.

Matt jumped slightly, and his finger came in contact with the blade.

“Shit. This is your fault.”

“You’re supposed to use a glove.” I grabbed his hand and the mandolin and led him over to the sink, where I ran cold water over the cut, inspecting it to see whether his finger was even still there.

“I’m fine,” Matt said.

I grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink and carefully applied pain ointment then wrapped his finger in bandages and plastic wrap.

“Okay, you’re all patched up. I’ll grab a new mandolin, and you can finish up.”

“Finish up?” Matt scoffed. “I’m injured; I can’t work.”

“Um, yes, you literally can. Put on your big boy pants”.

Matt untwisted the top off a bottle of cognac I had out for one of my jelly rolls. He poured some in one of my measuring cups and took a swig.

“I have to convalesce and heal.”

I glowered at him.

He pointed at the counter with the measuring cup. “You better get going on those oranges. They’re not going to slice themselves.”

27

Matt