Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty (Festive Flames)
Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty: Chapter 17

“Get inside, get inside!” I usher James in as quickly as I can and slam the door closed, causing the bell above the frame to jingle violently.

James stands a few feet inside, stamping his feet against the mat to dislodge the snow—not that it’s much use. He’s covered from head to toe in snow. Even his eyebrows have turned white. I pat his shoulder briefly, contemplating what I could do to help get the snow off, and then I grab his collar.

“Come on, take this off before you catch your death. Why were you even out there when there’s a storm coming?”

“I think it’s already here.” James laughs, sliding his arms out of his coat. “I was heading home. Left work later than I planned, but when I saw the light on, I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to get stuck here.”

I groan softly, motioning for James to follow me through to the back, where it’s much warmer.

“I’m settled in for the night, I’m afraid. All the cakes I lost last week plus the man hours? I’m on severe catch-up duty to get all of this out before Christmas.”

“Surely, people are understanding?” James asks, rubbing his bright red hands together. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, but people also want their cakes for their Christmas parties and displays, plus with the amount of money that changed hands at the auction, I don’t want anyone to start taking that back because I’m slow.”

I drape James’s coat near the back door, where it can dry onto one of the back mats from the heat of the kitchen, then I turn on the kettle. “Here, warm yourself by the oven. The heat it gives off will make you forget about the storm.”

“Thanks.” James moves as directed, shivering as he steps into the waves of warmth pouring from the oven. “So, you’re just going to be here all night?”

“That’s the plan,” I say, moving to make him a cup of tea while making sure my next batch of batter doesn’t over-fluff in the mixer. “Emma is with her grandparents, and I was going to try and make it back to them, but the day just got away from me.”

“I know that feeling.” James stomps his feet slightly. “Fuck. You don’t get cold like this in the city.”

I glance at him over my shoulder and laugh. “Is nature too harsh for you, city boy?”

“It might be.” He chuckles. “When I left the clinic, I could see. By the time I reached the town square, it was like I was drowning in white.”

“Better get used to it. These kinds of storms like to hit multiple times throughout the winter. It always looks like a postcard when it’s over, though. Beautiful.”

As my batter finishes mixing, the kettle boils and within two minutes, I’m pressing a hot cup of tea into James’s hands. “Drink.”

“Thank you.”

“So, why did you come to check on me?”

“Well, the light was on, and after the break-in, I knew I was either going to find you or I would find whoever was dumb enough to return to the scene. Plus, I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

“How sweet.” Warmth blooms in my chest, as much as I try to ignore it. Each time we are together, I feel like a teenager again, with an exciting romance waiting just around the corner. And the longer we spend together, the more the reasons I should stay away just seem less important. It’s a little infuriating how much fun I had at the park and the ice rink.

He just has that effect.

“And…” James’s tone is softer. “I guess I wanted to do something good because I just had an argument with my mother and she had some choice things to say.”

“About?” I ask, carefully pouring batter into two trays. “Or is that prying too much?”

“About my dad.”

I pause, watching the last drops of batter splotch down into the tray. His father. My stomach clenches tightly as I set the bowl down and wipe my brow.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry into that.”

“It’s alright.”

“You want to tell me about it?” I turn to him and hold out a wooden spoon. “You can help me bake. It’s very therapeutic when you’re feeling like shit.”

James tilts his head, and a small curl of hair sweeps across his forehead, making him look even more adorable. Then he takes the spoon. “Thank you.”

I set James to work whisking eggs and sugar while I weigh out flour and baking soda. It’s simple work, since we’re repeating the same recipe twelve times for a gigantic six-tier cake auctioned off at the charity event, but it keeps us warm and focused while James talks.

“There was so much about my life that I just never questioned. That probably sounds really stupid, looking at the rich elite from the outside. But when you’re in there and you don’t know anything else, it just all seems normal. And my dad, I mean you met him. He was a hard man as much as he was kind, and I never wanted to disappoint him. It took over my life, for a while.”

I remain silent, listening to James as he pours out his pain into the batter.

“And then one afternoon he was just… gone. It was so sudden, it didn’t feel real. Like some awful joke or–or some twisted trick. He was just gone, and I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t.”

Despite the anger I still have for James after he left me all those years ago, the pain in his voice is so open and raw that my limbs ache with the urge to comfort him. Just thinking of one of my parents passing away is too much to stomach.

“Deep down, we all know it’s coming,” James continues softly. “But I always expected it to be when he was old and gray, tucked up in bed. Not on a train to some conference. He just… died, and suddenly, everything in my life felt fake. I’d been going through the motions for so many years, just agreeing to what I was told. Where to go, what to do, whom to be with.”

We pause to load the first five cakes into the oven, and James continues when we move on. I focus on lining the next five trays.

“It was like waking up from a dream. I just suddenly knew that I didn’t want any part of my life carved out for me. Sometimes, I think I decided that so my dad would come back and tell me I was being ungrateful, but he… he never came back.” James clears his throat. “But then the only thing I knew was that I didn’t want to be miserable. I didn’t want to live someone else’s life. It sounds so ridiculous to say out loud.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I reply gently. “I met your father. I remember how headstrong he was. So many rules and unspoken regulations. I can’t imagine living like that.” To me, it was smothering and it seems it took James seven years—and a death—to realize that. “But I think acting out in the hopes he will come back is natural. Death is painful to accept.”

James nods, his head down as he works. Knowing he’s in pain makes me feel guilty for admiring the way his forearms flex and bulge as he works, but I can’t help myself. With his shirt sleeves rolled up and a healthy color back in his cheeks, he looks so sexy.

Sad, but sexy.

I’m going to hell.

“My mother wants me to go back. She’s determined, but I was telling her that I was happy here. For the first time in… I don’t know how long. From even before my father passed. I’m happy. Enjoying life.”

His mother. The thought of her sends an iron-like tang across my tongue and I bury my distaste in the next batch of cakes. Outside, the world grows loud with the howl of the wind and the patter of snow pelting the windows. The heat from the oven keeps the cold at bay, and soon, the two windows in the back kitchen are so covered in snow that it’s impossible to see outside.

It’s like we’re in our own little igloo.

We work until the last two cakes are in the oven and then exhaustion brings us to a sweaty, tired heap on the floor.

“Damn,” I pant softly. “Who knew baking that much so fast would be so exhausting.”

“I’m impressed,” James says, and his shoulder rests against mine while we lean back against the cabinets. “You usually do all of this by yourself?”

“I usually have much more time,” I say. “I plan ahead for things. Well, things that aren’t break-ins.”

“Have the police gotten any leads?”

I shake my head. “They think it was some teen trying to be edgy or something. I just need the insurance to clear and I’ll be happy.”

“I bet that will take some time.”

I groan softly, gazing up at the oven while breathing in the warm, doughy smell of freshly baked cakes. “Especially at this time of year. Christmas is two weeks away and no one cares about working. Anyway, you were talking about your mother?”

“Oh.” James’s face falls slightly and he purses his lips. “I guess… if I’m honest, coming here was a split-second decision. I just woke up a few nights after my father had passed, and I just knew. I knew I was in the wrong place. I don’t regret it. Coming here was the best decision I ever made. A new job, a fresh start. New place, new faces.”

I study him as he talks. His face, while pained, is relaxed and honest, but one glaring question arises from his story. “Why here?”

“Why?” James meets my gaze. “Well… I could tell you that I found the job in the paper and applied, knowing I was overqualified and that I would get it instantly. Or I could tell you the truth.”

“Which is?” I wet my lips, and James’s eyes dart down to my mouth.

“I came here for you.”

“Me?”

“You.”

“How did you know I was here?” When we met in my parents’ inn, James appeared really surprised to see me. Now he’s saying he came here for me?

“I Googled you. Or rather, I reached out to a friend who knew how to find people, gave them as much as I could remember about you, and they found you within ten minutes. Which I know sounds like I’m some crazy stalker, but I…” He hesitates, and his brow dips as if mulling over something important.

Honestly, I’m flattered. I’ve thought about James every single day since we parted because of Emma. But after how we left things and how he sent his mother to speak to me when I tried to tell him about my pregnancy, it never occurred to me that he would think about me.

I thought I was nothing more than a distant, bad memory.

“You were the only person, Lily. The only person in my entire life who looked at me and saw me. It felt like you saw through all the bullshit and the rules and the glaze of my parents and saw the real me underneath it all. And then you treated me like a real person. After my father’s funeral, I just suddenly craved that more than I’d craved anything else in my life.”

“Wow,” I breathe softly. “I didn’t think you even remembered me. You left so abruptly.” It hangs in the air, the option to talk about how we left things, the possibility of the entire truth, but James is so pained that perhaps it’s too much right now. “So,” I add, gently changing topics. “Why didn’t you ever come and see me?”

“I was scared,” he admits quietly. “I saw you with your family and your successful business, and how beautiful you looked, and I realized that I had been so selfish. I had come here, needing to see you without thinking about your own life. So I stayed back because I just… I just wanted to be in your presence. For me, that was enough.”

“And now?” My heart starts to race and a different kind of heat warms my skin when James locks eyes with me.

“Now I… I don’t think it’s enough. I know it’s not enough. You’re intoxicating, Lily, and I wish I had woken up and realized it a lot sooner.”

“Me too,” I whisper. I’m unsure what I’m trying to say, and a warning blares in the back of my mind that it’s dangerous to get involved with James beyond what we’ve already done.

But it’s too late.

Maybe it’s the coziness of the kitchen, the magic of the storm, or just years of unresolved feelings, but when James leans in and drops his eyes to my lips, I can’t resist.

He leans in closer, and just as we breathe the same air, I lean forward too and meet him in the middle with a gentle kiss.