The clatter of the rolling pin against the counter drew her attention to the task at hand. She’d rolled the dough so thin she could see the wood grain of the butcher block.Great. Time to start over.
She scraped the dough back into a ball with her bare hands, relishing the tactile sensation of the soft, spongy texture. For fun, she formed the dough into three circular mounds, stacking them like a snowman.
“Cute. Not sure how evenly it’ll bake, though.” Nate stood in the doorway, gazing at her with the most adorable grin.
At the mere sight of him, all the stress drained from her body, replaced by an intense longing to be held by him, to bask in his comforting presence.
As if on cue, he bridged the divide and pulled her into his arms. She melted into him, inhaling his soothing scent while simultaneously blinking back tears. They’d only just found each other. If he stayed in Poppy Creek, how would she survive being separated?
“I’ve missed you,” he said softly into her hair.
The last few days, he’d been beyond supportive, giving her ample time and space to write without a single complaint.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she murmured, “Missed you, too.” And if he moved to Poppy Creek, she’d go on missing him. “How are the sets coming along?” she asked, avoiding the one question she really wanted to ask.And what about the job?He’d tell her when he was ready.
“Great. All finished! In fact, Luke said to tell you he plans to swing by soon to grab a copy of the play, so Cassie can make copies for the kids.”
“Oh, right! Of course.” She’d texted Cassie that morning to tell her she’d finished. She glanced at her sticky hands. “I’ll just quickly wash up.”
“Want me to grab it for you?”
“You don’t mind?”
“Nope. And I accept cookies as a form of payment.”
“Deal.” She grinned. “My laptop is wirelessly connected to Frank’s printer, so all you have to do is pull up the file and hit Print.”
“I think I can handle that.”
“A man of many talents,” she teased. “The file is labeledSchool Christmas Pageant. It’s on my desktop.”
“Got it.” He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before striding out of the kitchen.
“The login password for the laptop ischarles dickens. Two words, all lowercase,” she called after him, blissfully aware that she trusted him completely.
CHAPTER 24
NATE
Nate smiled as he typed the password into Juliet’s laptop and watched the screen flicker to life, thrilled by their mutual trust. They may not have known each other for very long, but there was a depth to their relationship that took some couples years to cultivate.
His smile deepened into a bemused, affectionate grin when he caught sight of her cluttered, chaotic desktop. She must have a hundred files and folders scattered across the screen without any discernible system. But what some people might find exasperating, he viewed as merely another one of her endearing quirks.
Although, after a few minutes of unsuccessful searching for theSchool Christmas Pageantfile, he wouldn’t mind if her laptop was a bit more organized. Finally, he spotted a file titledSCP. School Christmas Pageant? The acronym matched. That had to be the right one. He double-clicked, and the document filled the screen.
His gaze immediately registered the name Nick Anderson. Oddly close to Nate Henderson. His brain warned him to stop reading. He’d clearly opened the wrong file—this was a novel,not a play—but familiar words jumped off the page, keeping his attention rooted in place.
On the outside, Nick Anderson loved Christmas. He was a regular Clark Griswold in combat boots. Only, deep down, it wasn’t the bright lights and big, elaborate parties that drew him to the festive holiday. He longed for what Christmas represented—the season for family. The kind of family Nick didn’t have.
Those werehiswords. Confidential thoughts and feelings he’d shared with Juliet the night of the snowstorm, that he’d never told anyone else.
He scrolled through the document, scanning various lines and phrases, trying to wrap his head around what he was reading.
She’d turned him into a character in her novel. A romance novel, as far as he could tell. Private Nick Anderson looked, sounded, and even had thoughts just like him. Had she shown this to anyone yet? Submitted it to her editor, even?
He suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable, as if his personal wounds had been paraded around the literary world without his permission. His heart racing, he skipped to the last few pages, consumed by a morbid curiosity.
So far, Juliet had copied his life story nearly word for word. But how would she end it?
