“Wind caught it,” he lied.
Lacey frowned slightly. Sawyer shrugged out of his patched jacket and brushed past her on his way into the kitchen.
“Probably need to brew a fresh pot of coffee,” he said.
“Oh, please don’t bother on my account. As long as it’s hot and full of caffeine, it’ll do the trick,” Jenna said.
Sawyer took the pot off the coffee maker and dumped its contents in the sink. No way was he feeding her hours-old, bitter coffee.
“You want something to eat?” Lacey asked, heading for the pantry.
“I’m fine. That burger from lunch is still sitting like a rock in my belly,” Jenna said.
“What about some cookies? We’ve got chocolate chip and – oh, my God, Sawyer. Did you make molasses cookies?” Lacey spun around to stare at him as he spooned fresh coffee into the filter. In her hands was a ceramic cookie jar that had been in the Gallagher family for generations.
He shrugged, uncomfortable with the fact she’d drawn attention to the small act of domesticity. He hadn’t known what else to do for someone fresh out of the big house, so he’d made a truck load of his sister’s favorite cookies late last night. No big deal.
“Thank you,” Lacey said, and he shrugged again.
He didn’t need to look in a mirror to know his face was red.
“You have to have one of these cookies, Jenna. They’re Grammy Gallagher’s secret recipe. Not that there’s much secret to the ingredients – sugar, sugar, and more sugar. Oh, and don’t forget the butter.”
Lacey shoveled a fistful of cookies onto a plate and set them on the counter in front of Jenna. Sawyer busied himself loading dirty dishes into the dishwasher. Not that it would make much of a difference; he’d already noted Jenna taking in the piled up dishes, pots and pans.
“Sawyer, have you thought about offering some of these to the customers?” Lacey asked suddenly.
He frowned. Why on earth would he want to trumpet the fact that he’d been baking, of all things, to the wider Marietta community?
“Uh, no,” he said.
“You should. Y’know, a special treat just before Thanksgiving. Half of them are probably just scoping out the trees at different farms before deciding where to buy from in December. Why don’t I go sweeten them up?”
Before he’d fully comprehended her intention, Lacey had emptied the cookie jar onto another plate and was heading for the door.
Which meant he was about to be left alone with Jenna of the All-Seeing Green Eyes and very nice backside.
Shit.
He opened his mouth to protest, but Lacey was already halfway out the door. The sound of his jaw clicking shut was audible in the heavy silence, as was the rasp of sugar-dusted cookie against sugar-dusted cookie as Jenna dutifully took one from the plate.
“Do you, um, bake much, Sawyer?” she asked.
Sawyer shot her an incredulous look. Did he look like the kind of guy who baked on a regular basis?
He really hoped not.
“No,” he said.
The single word came out sounding more terse and gruff than he’d intended. Jenna’s mouth flattened out momentarily.
Man, he was making such a hash of this, but he felt completely off-balance. He hadn’t expected to feel so strongly about his sister’s release from prison, and he definitely hadn’t expected to be trapped in his kitchen with a woman as polished and subtly sexy as Jenna Macintosh. He felt…cornered. No, that wasn’t the right word. He felt as though someone had sprung a trap on him without warning.
What the trap was, he had no idea. He just knew that he felt at a distinct disadvantage and he didn’t like it.
Find out what happens next in His Christmas Gift…
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