She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her fingers twitched with nervous energy—nervous energy laced with excitement.
Ignoring the inner voice warning her to stay put, she followed the festive melody of “White Christmas” to the kitchen, pausing in the doorway.
Her racing heartbeat stuttered to a stop.
Nate stood at the butcher block island, the sleeves of his hunter-green Henley pushed up to his elbows. As he squeezed the handle of the antique flour sifter, his muscular forearm flexed.
Her faulty pulse revved to life, stumbling a few beats before kicking into overdrive. She never knew a man could look so alluring coated in flour. Fried chicken, yes. That made sense. But a man?Wow. Her mouth watered.
He must have sensed her staring, because he lifted his gaze from the sifter. “Sorry, is the music too loud? I can turn it down.” He reached for the phone in his front pocket.
“No, it’s nice.” It sounded like the original motion picture soundtrack ofWhite Christmas, with all four stars of the film harmonizing together. The nostalgic notes conjured one of the few fond memories Juliet had with her mother during the holidays. She’d been nine, and her mother had put on the movie to distract her while she graded papers. Instead, her mother had been sucked into the film, too, and they’d watched it together with mugs of hot chocolate and buttered popcorn sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar.
Smiling at the memory, Juliet joined Nate at the small kitchen island. “What are you making?”
“It’s supposed to be mince pie, but I can’t seem to get it right.” He frowned at a pie cooling on the stovetop. The blackened crust sank into the center.
“What recipe are you using?”
“The one in Cassie’s book.” He tipped his head toward the open Christmas Calendar on the counter. “Bake a mince pie is the day’s task. Technically, I can check it off the list. But I’d like it to at least be edible, so I’m giving it another try.”
“You’re taking this Christmas Calendar seriously, aren’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He looked so adorably earnest. Especially with a big smudge of flour on his right cheek.
She resisted the urge to wipe it away. With his hint of stubble, she expected his skin to be a little rough, but in a good way.
At the thought, her fingertips tingled. She curled them into her palm, dismissing the inappropriate impulse to touch a man she barely knew, no matter how attractive.Get a grip, Jules.
“I’ll let you in on the secret to a perfect, flaky crust. It’s a trick Aunt Beverly taught me.”
“I’m all ears.” He stepped to the side, making room for her at the island.
As she drew closer, she caught a heady whiff of pine and vetiver. Was it his soap? Cologne? Aftershave? It smelled heavenly. “First, we need a cheese grater.”
“A cheese grater?” Nate grimaced. “You put cheese in your pie crust?”
“You don’t have to look so horrified.” She laughed. “It’s for the butter.”
While Nate found the cheese grater, she grabbed two sticks of butter from the overstuffed freezer.
“Now what?” He set the grater on the counter.
“Now, we turn all of this ice-cold buttercream into a big pile of fluffy snowflakes.”
While she worked—gathering the golden shavings into a bowl—Nate watched over her shoulder, so close she could feel his body heat. For one brash second, she imagined his arms wrapping around her from behind. What if he took one more step and closed the gap between them?
Snap out of it, Jules. This isn’t a Hallmark movie.
She concentrated on not scraping the skin off her fingers.
“Now we add it to the flour?” Nate asked when she’d finished. Was it her imagination or did his voice sound a little raspy, as if he had trouble breathing, too?
“Not yet. The friction from grating warmed up the butter. We have to cool it down again.” She opened the freezer but couldn’t find room for the bowl. Glancing out the window at the fluttering snowflakes, she had an idea. “Follow me.”
They stepped into the stillness of the back porch, protected by the overhang, facing a tapestry of frosted pines. Before them, silvery moonlight illuminated a wonderland of white. As if on cue, theWhite Christmassoundtrack emanating from Nate’s pocket emitted the timely song “Snow,” the dulcet refrain serenading the idyllic scene.
She’d never witnessed anything more magical, and despite the chilly temperature, she stood in awed silence, basking in the unblemished beauty of the wintry woodland.
