Snowball's Christmas Page 2

  Adventures are a distraction, and you can’t afford distractions, anyway. Not now, she sternly reminded herself.

  Navigating the people stuffed around the square tables like peanut packaging in a box, she hardly absorbed the constant hum of chatter, the warm air laced with scents of mulled apple cider, or the Christmas music softly piped through overhead speakers. With a breath of relief, she made it behind the serving counter and into the small kitchen with all her boxes intact.

  The Ables had originally planned to offer only coffee and hot chocolate here, but noticing how many of their guests left around lunchtime, they had added a lunch counter. Basic, with sandwiches and soups. They’d been more than happy to sell Emily’s pastries and desserts for a small percentage of the profit, which meant they didn’t have to bake them. Win-win.

  Plus, she liked the Ables. They’d started this place after their youngest finished college. A sort-of-retired, but-not-retired venture.

  Marlisa came out from behind the station where she made sandwiches and gave Emily a hug. “We sold out of everything yesterday. And people are requesting those little almond and orange breads.”

  “The stollen?” Emily smiled. “My grandmother’s recipe from Germany. It’s one of our family Christmas traditions.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Erwin said with a grin. “I’ve put on five pounds since we started selling your stuff.”

  Marlisa wrinkled her nose at her husband. “Would it be possible to double our order starting next week?”

  What? Double?! !

  It wouldn’t be professional to do a happy dance, but Emily sure wanted to. More sales meant more people eating her food. She managed to contain herself. Barely. “Of course.”

  More hours in the kitchen, but that was okay. She could sleep when she was dead.

  Her mother would shake her head when she heard and probably threaten to send Emily’s brothers over to help. Or worse, she’d send her brothers with friends with the hope that her only daughter would give up this dream of running her own bakery and settle down.

  Her father, though, would wink over the top of her mother’s head, giving his silent approval of her choices. Taught to bake by her paternal German grandmother, this had been Emily’s dream since she’d first donned an apron. Dad got that.

  Emily dismissed the conversation from her mind. Maybe she wouldn’t tell them about the increased business. With Miss Tilly giving her permission to convert one of the many buildings on the Weber Haus property to her shop, she was so close she could taste it.

  All she needed was the loan for renovations.

  After settling up quickly, Emily snapped up her purse and keys, which she’d set down on the counter, and practically skipped out the door into the crisp morning air. Pristine snow blanketed everything, sparkling in the bright sunlight. Perfect. That meant plenty of potential customers out and about to buy her wares from folks like the Ables. That was, if she could get her deliveries done.

  She’d been up hours already, having cooked breakfast for the handful of folks staying at Tilly’s inn, cleaned up, then packed her car to the brim with her wares. A backed-up toilet in the King’s Ransom room, however, had slowed her down significantly.

  Still, she’d get it done before she needed to be back to cook lunch for the few guests who chose to eat in the house rather than at a restaurant in town. After that was dinner, then baking for tomorrow. Somewhere in there she needed to get more of the gorgeous antique Christmas decorations up around the house. December was going way too fast.

  At her car, her good mood took a back seat to frustration. The fob on her key chain was dying, which meant it didn’t always let her in right away. After four or five clicks, she finally gave a grr of annoyance and opened the door with the key.

  “Wait.”

  No mistaking the deep voice of the man from the parking lot. No way could he be talking to her, though, so she went to get in.

  “Emily.”

  He is talking to me.

  Surprise tinged with more delight than she’d let herself acknowledge had her pausing to look over her shoulder. “How did you know my name?” she called as he jogged down the last few steps.

  He waved back up at the slope. “That man called your name earlier.”

  And he’d paid attention? Wow. A blush warmed the skin of her cheeks, making the sting of the cold air against her bite more. “Listen, I’m flattered and everything, but I’m running late.”

  He paused on a word, mouth open, then his eyes crinkled as he grinned. “I’m not asking you out.”

  Oh. Disappointment dropped over her like snow falling off branches on her head. Kerfloop. Followed swiftly by embarrassment. The heat crept back up her cheeks, but for a much less fun reason. “Okay . . . What can I help you with?”

  “Actually, I’m here to help you.”

  Help her? With what? She raised her eyebrows in question.

  “I believe you’ve picked up a small passenger in your purse.”

  “My—” Realization rushed in with all the subtlety of a blizzard, and she closed her eyes in resigned horror. “There’s a kitten in my purse. Isn’t there?”

  She opened her eyes in time to catch the full impact of her stranger’s full-bodied laugh, his eyes alight with humor. “Does this happen to you often?” he asked.

  “Only since this one arrived on our doorstep.” More gently than she’d been handling it until now, she swung her purse around and opened it wide. Sure enough, two blue eyes stared back at her with all the innocence of angels.

  “Snowball. You’ve got to stop this,” she admonished as she lifted the small kitten out. Cuddling the ball of fluff against her chest, she lifted her gaze to her helpful stranger. Right in time to see him with a camera up to his eye. A soft click sounded as he snapped a picture.

  “Uh—No, thanks.” She lifted a hand to block any more.

  “I’m only getting the cat in the shot. I promise.”

  Zero for two. First, he wasn’t chasing her down because he was interested, and now he only wanted pictures of the cat. My ego is going to need some chocolate therapy if this keeps up.

  Gathering the remnants of her tattered self-confidence around her like a cloak, Emily managed to smile as she tickled Snowball under the chin. The tiny stowaway leaned into the touch, the loud rumble of her purr immediate. “She is pretty irresistible. ”

  This time when she raised her gaze, she was determined not to mistake anything he did or said as a sign of interest. In fact, it’d probably be good if she made a quick escape. “Thank you for letting me know. I’d feel awful if she got hurt or fell out and we lost her.”

  Miss Tilly would be beside herself with worry. In fact, she probably was already.

  “Oh no.” Before her stranger could answer, Emily dove inside her car. Then she swore for real when she realized she’d forgotten her cell phone.

  Right. Drive to the next delivery and call from there.

  “I was kind of hoping you might want to—”

  “I have to go,” she cut her handsome stranger off, lobbing the words over her shoulder.

  Hurry dictated her actions as she deposited Snowball on the passenger seat, started the car, and reversed out. She gave another wave of thanks at her stranger, who watched her antics with a bemused expression, then headed to her next stop with a bit more speed than care.

  “You are causing all sorts of chaos, you little dickens,” she told Snowball.

  By way of answer, Snowball delicately lifted one leg and proceeded to give her backside a wash.

  Despite wanting to make sure Tilly didn’t worry needlessly, not to mention the bazillion other things on her mind today, Emily still managed to think about the stranger all the way to town.

  “I wonder if he’s staying here for Christmas.” She directed the thought at the cat, who stared back as though she understood. Which was silly.

  Not that Emily would get the chance to bump into him again anyway. Her days were spent at the inn, the de
liveries her only time away.

  As soon as she reached McKitchens, one of the restaurants along the main street of shops downtown, Emily tucked Snowball back in her purse. “You stay in there,” she told the kitten.

  After all, she couldn’t leave her inside the cold car. Even with a fur coat.

  Then she gathered her boxes and rushed inside. Adam Larson, who managed the restaurant every weekday morning, led her to a phone in an office tucked into the back of the kitchen.

  “Weber Haus,” Tilly answered, her soft voice unmistakable.

  “Hi, Miss Tilly, it’s Emily. I wanted to let you know that I have Snowball. She stowed away in my purse.”

  Tilly managed to chuckle and tsk at the same time. “She does love to do that. I’m glad you called, because I’ve been searching everywhere.”

  “I thought you might be. I’ll bring her home when I’m done with my deliveries.”

  “That’ll be fine, dear—” A small scuffling noise sounded, then from a distance as though Tilly had put down the phone, garbled words came over the line. After another pause of silence, Tilly came back on. “Someone’s here. I’d better go answer the door.”

  Before Emily could reply, the line went dead, and she replaced the phone in its charger. At least that was handled. Now, deliveries.

  Her to-do list took her full attention as she stopped at three more locations that had agreed to sell her baked goods. Unfortunately, only the Ables were selling out. The others were selling well, though. That was something.

  Driving back to Weber Haus, Emily had to keep from scanning the sledding hill for a black wool coat paired with jeans and a bright red beanie. Not that she had time to do more than glance on the way by.

  He was more interested in Snowball, she reminded herself ruthlessly.

  Back home, she pulled around to the garage—originally a carriage house—where she and Tilly parked. All guests parked in a graveled lot on the other side of the main house. She scooped Snowball from the front seat, not in her purse this time, and trudged through the snow, her rubber boots crunching with each step, to the kitchen side entrance.

  “Miss Tilly,” she called as soon as she walked in the kitchen. “I’m home.”

  Meow, Snowball protested, as though reminding Emily she wasn’t the only one.

  “We’re home,” Emily corrected as she set her purse on the kitchen table and Snowball on the floor.

  “Oh, good,” came a faint voice. “We’re in the living room.”

  We? Emily glanced at Snowball and imagined the kitten shrugged in return. Tilly’s favorite thing in the world was to chat with her guests. While Emily preferred to be behind the scenes, Tilly was front of the house. A perfect recipe.

  She’d find out what Tilly was up to in a second. First, she had a carful of groceries to unload. Careful to keep Snowball from following, she hurried outside, grabbed two overflowing paper sacks, and returned. With both hands occupied, she backed through the kitchen screen door, then turned, only to smack into a wall of muscled male chest covered in a soft sweater. Inside the paper grocery bag, an ominous crack sounded, and Emily winced. There went the eggs.

  Not too many, please.

  She was planning an egg-and-sausage casserole as well as a bread pudding, and both needed eggs.

  “Sorry,” a low male voice sounded above her over the crinkling of the paper grocery bags. “I was trying to hold the door, but I’m afraid I just got in the way.”

  “No problem,” she lied through her teeth. She didn’t have time to go back out for more eggs.

  He took her by the shoulders, carefully backing away. “Got it?”

  “Yeah.”

  Emily set the groceries on the counter, then turned to address her unfortunate helper. She stumbled to a halt at the sight that greeted her. “You.”

  Green eyes crinkled at the corners. “Me.”

  Right. She sounded idiotic.

  To cover, Emily bent and scooped Snowball into her arms. A kitty-shaped shield for the impact this total stranger had on her. At the same time, her brain kicked back on. She didn’t remember any new guests checking in today. What was he doing here?

  A sneaking suspicion crept up on her. Please don’t be who I think you are. You’re too appealing for me to be mad at.

  * * *

  I pause in my purring to peer closer at Emily’s face. I know something is wrong because she’s squeezing me tighter. A little too tight.

  I give a mewl of protest, and she blinks, her frown morphing to vague confusion as she glances down at me. Emily blinks again, then loosens her grip.

  Did she forget she was holding me?

  That’s strange. I look over to see what she was frowning at. Only it’s not a what. It’s a who.

  That man from the place with all the white stuff and the kids laughing loudly. The one who found me in her purse. I cock my head, studying him. Why is Emily mad at him? Other than ratting me out—such an appropriate phrase I learned recently—he seems like a nice person.

  The man reaches out and runs a gentle hand over my fur. I snuggle into his touch and start my motor back up. You can tell a lot from how a person pets. I like him already.

  About then, Miss Tilly bustles into the room. “Excellent. You’ve met,” she says.

  “Not formally,” the man says. I like his voice, too. There’s kindness and something comforting in the deep tones. I’d like to snuggle under his chin and take a nap.

  “Oh,” Miss Tilly says in that floaty way she has sometimes. “Emily, I’d like you to meet my nephew, Lukas.” Tilly is glowing with pride.

  I tip my head and stare at the man. This is the Lukas person she’s been talking about?

  “Lukas,” Tilly continues. “This is Emily Diemer. Emily helps me run Weber Haus and is a fine baker.”

  The Lukas man smiles. He has a nice smile, I decide. It reaches all the way to his eyes.

  “A pleasure to formally meet you. Tilly’s told me a lot . . .” He trails off.

  I glance up at Emily because she’s squeezing me again.

  “You’re Tilly’s nephew?”

  Her voice does not sound very pleased. What did this guy do to her? I’m the one he outed by telling her I was in her purse.

  Lukas must be thinking the same thing, because his eyebrows scrunch up all funny. “Is that a bad thing?”

  Emily opens her mouth, then her gaze strays to Miss Tilly. She seems to rethink her words. “I’m sure Tilly is thrilled to have you home. She’s talked of nothing and no one else for weeks,” she says. Only her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “How long are you staying? She wasn’t sure.”

  Now she sounds too sweet. Not at all Emily-like. Emily is a lovely human, always quick to pet, but she’s also straightforward. At least, that’s what Miss Tilly calls her. Sweet sounds all wrong from her mouth—like too much cream, smothering her words.

  I wiggle in her grasp, and she lowers me to the floor. I have instincts for humans. Maybe if I show her Lukas is a nice one, she’ll stop acting so . . . strange. I scoot over to him and wind myself around his ankles. Lukas chuckles. A deep sound that makes me happy. I like it even better when he bends over and runs a hand over my back. I arch up into his touch.

  See, Emily. He’s nice.

  I glance over to make sure she’s getting the message, only Emily is watching me with her lips pushing forward, kind of pinched.

  “Traitor,” she mouths at me.

  A snort from Lukas tells both Emily and me that he caught that. Her cheeks go red.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get the rest of the groceries before I get started on lunch.”

  Emily hurries out of the room, the screen door closing behind her with a bang that makes me jump. Lukas straightens and watches her go, the corners of his mouth lifting.

  Is it just me? Or is there something going on between these two? Like a low hum in the air. Two humans I like should like each other, I decide. Maybe they need a little help to figure it out.

  Chap
ter 3

  The creaking of a door hinge pulled Lukas out of a light sleep. Given how much he traveled, some destinations not all that safe, he’d gotten used to more of a light snooze, rather than any kind of deep REM cycle.

  Aunt Tilly needs to oil those hinges, was his first groggy thought.

  He came a little more awake as he realized the sound was coming from his bedroom door. He cracked one bleary eye. No light penetrated the thick curtains drawn over his windows, but that didn’t mean much. He should’ve remembered his childhood habit of not closing them all the way, or he’d never know what time it was.

  Levering up on his elbows, he glanced at his bedroom door. Sure enough, it had opened a hair. Maybe he hadn’t closed it fully, which was doubtful. Or perhaps Weber Haus had picked up a few new ghosts. He had a sneaking suspicion he was about to find out.

  A few seconds later he caught a whisper of sound, a heartbeat, before Snowball landed right on his stomach. Even as tiny as she was, the impact made him grunt.

  He dropped back to the pillow. “Hey there, fur face. You come for a visit?”

  Meow.

  Snowball headbutted Lukas’s chin, and he chuckled. “Demanding little thing, aren’t you?”

  Meow.

  Lukas reached to pet the kitten, but she hopped back, then meowed again and hopped a bit more. He gave her a cockeyed stare. The cat acted almost as though she wanted him to get out of bed and follow. With a groan, he sat, the sheets falling to his lap, and Snowball leaped off the bed and ran eagerly to the door. There she turned and he’d swear gave him an annoyed scowl.

  With a meow that also sounded decidedly aggravated, she hopped back up on the bed and pawed at him before running back to the door.

  “You must think you’re a dog,” Lukas mumbled.

  Still, she obviously wanted something, and he was awake now anyway. With a grumble, he tossed back the covers, shivering as his bare feet hit cold wood flooring. He made a mental note to wear socks to bed, even if he did hate it.

  A glance at his phone, he immediately reached for it and shot the kitten a glare. “It’s not quite five. This better be good.”