“No!” Trinity cried. “I love them.”
“Of course not,” Roan said. “This is my issue. I’ll sort myself out.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“I’ll be fine. It’s time to let you get on your way.” Roan pulled his wallet from his pocket and took out three twenty-dollar bills.
“Oh no, no.” Jazzy raised both palms and shook her head. “You’re not paying me.”
“You’ve been here almost two hours and you decorated my house. I’m most certainly paying you.”
She kept shaking her head. “It was my pleasure. Seriously.”
He reached for her hand to press the money into it, but she jerked back. “Please don’t insult me.”
“Dang it, Jazzy. I don’t like owing people.”
“You owe me nothing.”
“But I do. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her like that.” He nodded toward Trinity, who was staring raptly up at the tree. “Take the money.”
“You’re already going to give me the Dutch oven. That’s payment enough.”
He shook the bills at her. “Please.”
Jazzy pressed her lips together and locked her arms behind her back. “Do you really want to pay me back?”
“I do.”
“Then give me campfire cooking lessons.”
Roan let out a grunt. “I’d rather give you cash.”
“And I’d rather have cooking lessons.” She stoodher ground. She had helped him out in a pinch and the living room looked festive and he didn’t have to lift a finger to get it that way.
You owe her.
“Jazzy—”
“Roan.”
“I don’t bake anymore.”
“You don’t have to bake. I’ll do all the work. I just need your help. Without it, there’s no way for me to beat Andi Browning.”
“Why is winning the cookie contest so important to you?”
“Because she took the man I once loved,” Jazzy said simply. “Because she beats me at everything. Just once, I’d like the upper hand.”
“Revenge doesn’t suit you.”
“I don’t want revenge,” Jazzy said. “I just want to prove I’m worthy, you know?”
“All right,” he said.
She cocked her head and looked so hopeful that he got that weird chest ping again. “All right?”
“I’ll give you campfire cooking lessons.”