Page 57 of Season's Schemings
“What’re you kids up to today?” Alicia smiles around the table at all of us enjoying our mix of eggs benedicts, and waffles with syrup, and tomato and green pepper omelets, and, at the center of it all, Adam’s pastries. “Dinner is at 4pm, so please try to be back by then from whatever you’re up to.”
She really is a nice lady.
Pity about her son.
“Elizabeth and I will be hitting the slopes again,” Adam says with a pointed look in Maddie’s direction. “It’s so nice to have a partner who enjoys the things I do.”
“Indeed,” Maddie’s mom agrees. For some bizarre reason. The way she takes every opportunitynotto defend her one and only daughter is beyond baffling to me.
But Adam’s not-so-subtle dig bothers me to the point that I decide it’s time to knock him down a peg or three.
I take a bite of my glazed pecan braid—which is, annoyingly, an absolute pastry masterpiece shaped like a wreath with two freaking turtledoves nesting in it—and wince, acting like it’s painful to swallow.
“What?” Adam’s eyes are on me immediately, blinking behind his glasses as he studies my reaction to his food.
“Oh. Nothing. It’s, um, delicious.” I half-gag, then politely wipe my mouth with my napkin. “Super delicious.”
Adam eyes me, his face a perfect blend of suspicion and fear. To a guy like Adam—whose entire identity is built on gourmet fancies—serving bad pastries has got to be up there on his top terrors list. Especially when serving them to his favorite hockey player.
Well, hisex-favorite hockey player. Which I think—hope—I’m well on my way to becoming.
I smile placidly at Adam, then turn to Maddie. “When do you usually give everyone their gingerbread people?”
Her eyes dart to Adam, then back to me. “Later. After dinner.”
Right away, I decode this to mean that Adam doesn’t like her giving them out during his brunch, so that he’s not upstaged. Which, sadly, doesn’t surprise me in the least. And I’ve known the guy a total of three days.
“You should give them out early this year.”
“Oh, no,” Maddie protests. “Let’s do it later.”
“I wanna see mine now.” Jax immediately backs me up, throwing his own half-eaten pecan braid down on his plate. “I’m hungry for gingerbread.”
Maddie looks at her brother like he’s grown a second head. “You hate gingerbread. I always make you a sugar cookie version.”
Jax raises his eyes heavenward. “Give us the cookies, Mads.”
I like Maddie’s brother. I can see from a mile off that he genuinely cares about her. And he’s made an ally of me because he sees that I do, too. Gives me that weird warm feeling in my stomach again just thinking about it.
Dot starts to demand her gingerbread cookie, too. And Mr. Plumlee joins in.
“I’ll grab them.” I scrape my chair back and begin to stand, but then I look at Adam with wide, innocent eyes. “That is, of course, if Adam doesn’t mind.”
Adam looks like he minds. A lot. His face is a mask of frustration and upset, but he can hardly go andsaythat he minds now, can he? Otherwise, he’ll look like a total prick.
So, he’s forced to nod.
“Great.” I jump to my feet to fetch the platter from the pantry.
“I’ll help you,” Maddie says tightly.
And then, she follows me. Right into the pantry. Shuts the door behind her.
It’s a very small pantry.
So small that we’re practically chest to chest.
I look down at her, hyper aware of how close we are. The heat of her body. How small she is, yet somehow, she’s filling this entire space—her perfume mixing with scents of gingerbread cookie, her breathing shallow and quick.