Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty (Festive Flames)

“Alright, sweetie, you be good for Grandma, okay?” Kneeling down, I adjust the buttons on Emma’s blouse and cup her cheeks. “I know how much you enjoy a sleepover, but you still have to be on your best behavior, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy!” Emma grins happily at me. “We’re gonna play storekeeper!”

“Oh, really?” Laughing softly, I ruffle her curls and stand as my dad comes out from the back of the inn.

“Lily! And Emma, look at you. Are you ready for your sleepover?”

“Yes, Grandpa!” Emma beams up at him, then she waves at me with a tiny fist and scurries off behind the counter. I hear my mom’s excited exclamation a moment later.

“Can you keep an eye on her?” I ask Dad while I smooth out the rumples in my T-shirt. “I’m a little worried about her.”

“Worried how?” Mom pokes her head through the door like a magpie spotting something shiny. “What’s wrong?”

“Emma’s just having a little rough patch with some kids at school, so I just want you to keep an eye on her and make sure she’s okay, that’s all,” I explain. “It’s nothing too serious yet.”

“We will,” Dad assures me with a comforting squeeze of my arm. “You don’t have to worry. You have a night to yourself. Go and have fun.”

“It’s about time you got back out into the dating world,” Mom agrees as she busies herself, shuffling papers at the front desk. “It’s not good to be alone this long.”

“One, there’s nothing wrong with being alone. And I’m not alone. I have family and friends. And two, it’s not a date. It’s just dinner with a friend who I am pretending to date to help him out of a tough situation. It’s not real.”

“Sure.” Dad chuckles. “And I was born yesterday.” He chuckles to himself and heads through the door to the back of the inn to find Emma.

“You don’t need to pretend with us,” Mom says, moving around the desk to take my hand. “You’re a grown-up. You make your own choices, but you don’t need to hide a date from us.”

I should try to persuade her that it’s really not a date, but that would take longer than I have time for. Instead, I thank her for taking care of Emma for the night and promise to pick her up in the morning. Then, I drive home while my mind races on what on earth to wear.

“What about that little black dress?” Amelia asks me half an hour later on the phone, after I spent twenty minutes tearing apart my closet and called her in desperation.

“It doesn’t fit,” I whine softly. “That dress is from before I had Emma, and my body then was very different from my body now.”

“You’re still gorgeous,” Amelia says gently.

“I never said I wasn’t,” I point out. “I just have a few more squishy bits that didn’t exist when I bought that dress.”

“Hold up the phone. Show me what else you’ve got in there.”

I do as she asks and hold the phone with one hand while dragging a brush through my hair with the other. “I don’t even know why I’m so nervous. It’s not a real date.”

“Sure, but it’s in public and that’s the lie you’re trying to spin,” Amelia counters. “That’s sure to drag up all sorts of feelings, considering who he is.”

“There are no feelings,” I murmur.

“Don’t think you can lie to me just because I can’t see your face right now.” I can hear Amelia sucking on her teeth and bite back a smile. “What’s that at the back? It looks red but black at the same time?”

“Uhm.” Following her instructions, I hunt out a knee-length, strapless dress that’s deep red with a love heart neckline. It’s covered in sheer black fabric that deepens the red whenever the material ruffles.

“Ooh,” Amelia breathes. “That’s gorgeous!”

“Also from my pre-Emma days.”

“So? It totally looks like it would fit. I mean, you might knock your teeth out with your tits if you run down some stairs, but who cares?”

Snorting with laughter, I set the phone down on the dresser and slide the dress from the hanger. “I’m telling you. I have too many squishy bits.”

“Try it,” Amelia insists.

With nothing to lose, I do just that. To my immense surprise, the dress slips on easily and the side zip closes like a glove just under my armpit. The dress is snug and Amelia was right. It does push my boobs up slightly, but that only makes the dress look more outstanding.

“Hot mama!” Amelia cheers. “See, I knew it as soon as I saw it. Trust me. Show up in that and he’ll regret fielding all those calls seven years ago.”

“I’m not trying to make him regret that,” I say, plucking at the black sheet netting. “I’m just trying to help him out because⁠—”

“Because you’re a softie,” Amelia finishes for me. “I know. But this is kind of a sexy revenge dress if I ever saw one. Ooh, add some black pumps and red lippy, and you are stunning!”

It takes me a little longer to apply makeup. It’s not part of my everyday routine since I learned pretty quickly that the heat of the bakery makes me sweat off anything I have on my face, and no one wants running foundation dripping over their cupcakes. It’s satisfying to go all out, though, and paint my face up to help make myself feel beautiful.

“Damn,” Amelia whines as I set the last eyelash into place. “How about you ditch James and come out with me instead?”

“Ha!” A final swipe of balm across my red lips and I’m ready. Standing back from the mirror, I pluck at the dress again and take a deep breath. “You think I look good?”

“Lily, you look amazing,” Amelia promises me. “Go make him regret ever walking away from you.”

——

It was never my goal to make James Anderson regret turning his back on me all those years ago, but it lingers in my mind as I walk up to his table and watch his face melt into a mix of shock and awe. He stands, smoothing one hand down his shirt, and then he darts around the table to pull my chair out for me.

“Lily, my God, you look amazing,” he says, easing me into my seat.

“Thank you.” I smile up at him, fighting how the compliment blooms in my chest. “We have to make this believable, right? In case anyone sees?”

“Right. Of course.” James smiles at me, but the way his eyes constantly dart down me shows he’s nervous. He wants to look at me but he’s trying to be polite.

I like the tingly feeling it gives me. “You look nice too,” I say once he’s seated and comfortable.

“Thanks.” James laughs softly. “Believe it or not, I don’t own much else other than work stuff and a few comfy clothes.”

“You didn’t pack before coming here?”

“Not really. It was so… spur of the moment that I just bought what I needed along the way.”

Of course he did. Money has never been an object for James. I can’t imagine having that kind of relaxed outlook on life, but given the work he does as a doctor, maybe it’s okay.

“That’s crazy.” I chuckle. “I need a whole collection whenever I want to travel. For me and Emma. Basically, packing up the entire house because you never know what you might need.”

“I can imagine.”

James’s smile is warm and easy. As we make small talk, his nervous eye-darting calms and soon, he’s holding my gaze as easily as he did all those years ago. It’s almost too easy to forget how much time has passed since then. We order drinks and food, and as we eat, the conversation turns to the one work thing we have in common.

“Margret told me that you’re actually the one behind the entire charity auction party, is that right?” James asks after a mouthful of red wine.

“Yes.” I nod, spearing some steak onto my fork. “Crazy, right? Why does a baker care about a medical clinic?”

“Not that crazy,” James replies. “I’ve only been here a short while, but one thing I’ve noticed about this town is that everyone is involved in everything. There are no set roles or expectations to stay in the lane like there are in the city. You all branch out to help one another.”

“Yeah,” I say between bites. “I suppose we do. I had this idea that uhm, well, medical bills are painful for anyone. And when Emma was born, she was sick for a while, so those bills piled up.”

“Oh, God.” James lowers his fork. “I’m so sorry.”

I wave one hand and sip my wine. “Don’t be. It’s just a fact of life, right? You get sick, say goodbye to all your money. Anyway, I was extremely lucky in that my parents helped me with those bills, but it still scraped all of us dry. If not for the inn being so successful, I might have feared for them. But it got me thinking, y’know? Around here, money is tight. Medical treatment is scarce unless you want to pack up to the city, which is an eye-watering expense in itself.”

James nods along while he eats, and his eyes never leave mine.

“A free clinic would be able to take the weight off, in some cases. I think about how many serious illnesses can be prevented if they’re caught quickly enough, and then not only is the cost down, but people get to live their lives, y’know?”

“It’s admirable,” James says, and when he smiles, my stomach clenches tightly. Butterflies dance through me, and warmth sweeps up my spine. I’m glad this dress is strapless because with any more layers, I would be sweating up a storm.

“You think so?”

“Of course.” His voice is low, and each time I glance up, he’s watching me intently. “You can imagine that where I come from, there’s not much room for that kind of appreciation for others. For one thing, my mother plans out almost every detail of her life—and mine. A passion project like that is a dream. And I think it’s admirable that you’re taking time to better things for others.”

It’s impossible to keep the smile from my face as my cheeks flush warm. “It just feels like a nice thing to do.”

“It is. Margret told me that you plan to auction off the tiers of your cake to help raise money, and that lots of other people around town are donating items and pieces to help. Then she asked me if I would be willing to donate hours.”

My heart jumps, and I watch him closely. “Will you?”

“I’d be honored.” His smile widens, and my heart skips another beat. “Although it’s slightly selfish, perhaps, of me to be so willing simply so I can integrate into town a little easier.”

“I don’t know,” I murmur. “I think you’re doing a good job.”

“Really?” James toys with his glass, sliding his fingers around the rim as we lock eyes.

“Yes,” I say, and my mouth is oddly dry. “Everyone’s been talking about the hot shot doctor.”

“Almost as much as I hear about the award-winning baker,” James replies just as swiftly.

My cheeks burn. “That’s not really anything.”

“Don’t downplay your achievements. Doctor. Baker. Mechanic. It doesn’t matter. Talent and skill are recognized, regardless. And I know talent when I see it. I always thought you had an intricate eye for detail.”

“Really?” I can’t look away. His eyes hold me captive, and I’m so completely willing. Under the table, our legs cross, and there’s a moment when shin catches against shin. A jolt passes through me, the shock at the contact and yet something more. A familiar ache.

How we used to lie in bed watching the sun come up with our legs tangled together. Things are so different now.

“Definitely.” James speaks slowly, like the word is a delicacy, and he doesn’t look away. I have to. I’m afraid if I stare too long, I’ll fall into his eyes with no way out. But when I glance back up, he’s still watching me with such soft intent that I melt.

“It’s just practice.”

“Practice hones skill, but it doesn’t create natural talent,” James says. “From the moment I saw you, I knew you had something special about you. This incredible warmth is visible in everything you do.”

He speaks like there are no years between us. I’m acutely aware of every movement he makes and how easy it would be to reach across the table and take his hand. I want to feel his touch against my skin and see if it still gives me the same electric shivers it used to.

“You’re just saying that because I gave you a free cupcake.” I glance away.

Has the air around here gotten thicker? Why is it so hot?

James laughs. “You could solve so much with a free cupcake.”

“Everyone loves a good bit of baking.”

We talk late into the night, discussing simple things like our day to day lives and then a little bit about the old days. It’s hard not to reminisce, and while I was certain if I ever saw James again, I would demand to know why he abandoned me, the question never came up.

I’m having too much fun, and as the restaurant closes and James pays our bill, it hits me how easily this ‘fake dating’ situation could run away with itself.

I need to be careful.

“I had a fantastic time tonight,” James says as we stand on the sidewalk with the bitter cold winter air weaving around us. I’m distantly aware of how cold it is but somehow, it doesn’t reach the forefront of my mind.

“Me too.” I smile warmly up at him. “We should be well on our way to fooling Margret.”

“Ahh, yes,” James chuckles. “Margret.”

He steps closer, and the world melts away. James has always been incredibly handsome, and now, with the restaurant’s twinkling lights as a backdrop and snow dancing in the air, he looks positively mouthwatering.

Alcohol warms my veins, and I feel at peace after a good meal. My skin flushes hot the longer he stares at me without saying a word, then his lips part.

“Taxi for Thompson?” A voice to my left cuts through everything, and I’m quickly jerked back to reality.

“That’s me.” I smile at the driver who’s pulled up alongside us, then glance back at James. “This was nice. Thank you. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Lily.”

The soft way he says my name sticks with me as I slide into the taxi and begin the drive home. Seven years ago, if he’d said my name like that, I would have dragged him into the taxi with me, and his clothes would be on the floor by the time we got home.

I tell myself I have to be strong.

And yet, as I close my eyes and settle into the drive home, all I can think about is how badly I wanted to kiss him.