She angled her head to study him, a lock of golden hair falling prettily against her cheek. Good heavens but she was beautiful. It was all he could do not to reach out and brush the curl from her face. To use the errant strand as an excuse to touch her as he had with the chocolate on her chin the first night they’d baked together. It seemed forever ago.
His heart clutched. What was he doing? Did he seriously think he could have casual sex with her and not suffer repercussions? Bad idea.
“Well, well, well.” Andi Browning’s voice yanked Roan’s attention to the showy blonde in front of them. She had hold of Danny Garza’s wrist and appeared to be dragging him toward the Twilight Bakery. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Roan shot a glance over at Jazzy. Her serene smile warmed his soul. She wasn’t letting her nemesis get the better of her.
“Where else would I be but gathering material to win the bake-off?” Jazzy asked.
“Youdoknow the recipes must be original.” Andi was speaking to Jazzy, but eyeing Roan. He could almost feel the heated intensity of her stare.
Overhead, the breeze ruffled the tinsel garlandmounted to the awning of the pet supply store next to the bakery. The door to Fruit of the Vine, the storefront from a local winery, on the north side of the square stood open and the sound of Billie Holiday’s “I’ll Be Seeing You” mingled with the Christmas song “All I Want for Christmas Is You” piped from the courthouse speaker system, creating an oddly euphonous combination.
“I do know that.” Jazzy deepened her smile and earned Roan’s admiration for her calm serenity under pressure. “But all recipes are built on a basic foundation and there’s no better baker in town than Christine. Isn’t that whyyou’rehere as well?”
“No,” Andi said with a toss of her hair. “Danny and I are going in to taste cakes for our wedding.” She put a hard inflection on the wordwedding.
Roan shot a look at Danny. The younger man flashed a sheepish grin. He shifted his weight, glanced at the ground, and when he raised his head, his attention locked on Jazzy.
That expression on Danny’s face—one of a man who’d figured out he’d made a grave mistake—bothered Roan. Jazzy didn’t need this fickle dude messing with her head.
Jazzy didn’t seem to notice Danny watching her. Her gaze latched on to Andi.
Roan’s shirt collar felt itchy.
“Whatcha gonna bake?” Andi batted her lashes at Roan.
What game was that woman playing?
“Rugelach,” Jazzy said before Roan could send her a warning glance.
Did Jazzy always do this with Andi? Hand her nemesis the ammo to use against her? The downside of being open, honest, and trusting, projecting her own good qualities onto others and assuming they would think and act the same way.
“It’s just one of several recipes we’re considering,” Roan said.
“Rugelach?” Andi lifted an eyebrow. “Is that a cookie?”
“Christine sells them as cookies. Why? Do you think rugelach violates the contest rules?”
Please hush.Gently, he squeezed her elbow, hoping Jazzy would get the hint.
“Nah.” Andi shook her head. “I’m sure rugelach is fine. The rules just say no brownies or bars.”
Jazzy looked uncertain and shifted her gaze to Roan. He draped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, letting her know he had her back.
“Have fun at your cake tasting,” Jazzy said with a fixed smile and a wriggle of her fingers. Then she linked her arm through Roan’s.
Roan had just enough time to see Danny scowl before Andi hauled him into the bakery.
Well now, had Roan just become some kind of bargaining chip in Jazzy’s rivalry with Andi? He sure didn’t mind her arm hooked around his elbow, but he didn’t like being a pawn in a Jazzy-Danny-Andi mind game. He deserved better than that. Especially after what Jazzy had said to him in Christine’s office.
“Would you like to cut through Sweetheart Park?” he asked, trying to figure out the best way to approach the subject.
“Sure! I love Sweetheart Park this time of year. Oh, who am I kidding. I love it all year round. The park is sentimentality at its best.” She leaned into him, her head level with his shoulder and his nose filled with her honeyed scent.
Arm in arm, they walked under the candy cane archway that led into a winter wonderland. Twinkle lights adorned every tree. Garlands, ribbons, and bows decorated the park benches and wooden footbridges spanning the small tributary of the Brazos River as it fed into Lake Twilight. There were wooden cutouts and blow molds, inflatables, and animatronics—Santa and his reindeer, a North Pole village complete with Mrs. Claus and an army of elves, Frosty the Snowman, the Grinch, and a lavish nativity scene.
Amid the holiday designs were the permanent starry-eyed fixtures in Sweetheart Park. They strolled past the Sweetheart Fountain, a statue of Jon Grant and Rebekka Nash, two of the town’s founders, locked in the enrapt embrace of reunited lovers. An engraving on a plaque beside the statue told the story of their legendary romance and ended with this promise: throw a coin in the fountain, make a wish to reunite with your first love, and it would come true.