“So what made you move here from Montana?” she asked, as she put milk on to heat and started grating Belgian chocolate. “Emma mentioned it,” she added casually.
He chuckled. “Cade kept pestering me, telling me what a cool place Coldwater was. My folks are living in a retirement community in Arizona, so Wyoming is a bit closer to them. I came out here for a quick visit about three months ago. Then, when Cade told me the ranch on Gum Road was for sale, I managed to negotiate a good price for it.” He paused. “How about you?”
“How do you know I’m not a local?” she teased, stirring the chocolate into the milk. She always felt more confident in a kitchen.
He shrugged. “Cade told me. He can’t get enough of your blueberry Danish since you opened the bakery.”
“That’s one of my most popular items.” She couldn’t help a rush of pride. Emma was a pretty good baker, so for her husband to like anyone else’s baked goods was a big compliment.
“Your sourdough’s mine,” he replied, his lips quirking into a smile.
She tried to suppress a blush. Gathering her thoughts, she replied, “I moved here eight months ago when I realized I wasn’t enjoying my job as a pastry chef in Chicago any more. It was all rush, rush, rush, and creating desserts didn’t give me pleasure any longer. I was so tired, I could barely see straight when I was awake.”
It was too embarrassing to tell him about the time she’d nearly fallen asleep in the bathtub. When she had blearily squinted her eyes open, her mouth had been just under the surface of the tepid water. She’d quit her job the next day.
“So what made you move here to Coldwater?” he inquired.
Kate couldn’t help a soft smile touch her lips. “When I was five, my family spent the summer in Wyoming. I never forgot the feeling of having all that space around me.” She shrugged. “When I quit my job, it seemed natural to move here and see if I could make a life for myself.”
She peeped up at him through her lashes. He’d entered the kitchen, his hands tucked in the back pockets of his freshly pressed jeans. She could stand here all night just looking at him. Sigh.
He grinned. “I’ve heard that even Betty comes into the bakery for something sweet.”
Betty ran the local diner and her homemade cherry pies were legendary. To have her seal of approval was something of a coup for Kate.
“Mm-hm.” Her eyes held a glimmer of humor. “I’ve always wondered if I’d have any customers if Betty hadn‘t popped in one day and tried a Red Velvet cupcake.”
“I’m sure you would have.” He flashed a grin.
Flustered, she busied herself with the hot chocolate. “It’s ready.” She carried two mugs to the large wooden table that dominated the kitchen.
“Thanks.” He sat at the table, taking an appreciative sip. “Mm. Delicious.”
Kate slid into a chair opposite him and sipped her own drink, unable to hide her pleasure at his compliment. If only the way to a man’s heart was truly through his stomach, then she’d have no trouble at all. Unfortunately, most men she met seemed to want a super skinny girl who could cook like a dream. So not her - the skinny part, anyway.
After a couple of minutes, Flynn cleared his throat. “I guess we better start practicing our lines.”
Apprehension fluttered in her stomach and she took a quick sip of her rich hot chocolate. “Okay.”
He dug in his back pocket and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper. Smoothing it out on the table, he said, “According to Sarah, the float will stop in the middle of Main Street, where we’ll say our lines.” He looked across the table at her. “Don’t laugh, okay?”
“Of course not,” she promised, wondering exactly what was in the script.
Flynn took a deep breath. “Mrs. Claus, it’s time for me to jump in the sled and deliver all the good boys’ and girls’ presents.” He slid the paper across to her, his tanned finger pointing to a place halfway down the page. “This is your line.”
She kept her eyes fastened on the script, wondering what would happen if she reached out and touched his hand. Don’t think about it.
“Take care, Mr. Claus,” she spoke the line hesitantly, unused to play-acting. “Christmas dinner will be waiting for you when you come home.” She passed the piece of paper back to Flynn.
“I also have a gift for you, Mrs. Claus. Ho, ho, ho.” Flynn looked directly into her eyes. “It says we kiss.”
“It does?” Her cheeks felt white-hot. “Where?”
“Right here.” He turned the script upside-down and indicated a typewritten line.
Mr. and Mrs. Claus embrace and kiss on the lips was emblazoned on the white sheet of paper. Kate had concentrated on saying her line correctly, and hadn’t looked further down the page to see what came next.
“Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say. She looked up at him, unable to take her eyes off his face.
“I think we should practice,” he said, his eyes darkening as he held her gaze.