Page 3 of The Christmas Cookie Crush

That provokes another sigh. This has been an ongoing conversation—what am I going to do after I graduate? Now that I only have one more semester, the question seems more pressing than ever with no answer in sight.

I know Mom means well, and honestly, working with Sarah wouldn’t be terrible, but the thought of moving back home, living with my parents, and working in the family store sounds like going backwards instead of forwards. Sarah was the one who wanted that life, who wanted to stay in Arcadian Falls and live here forever. And it’s working out great for her—she’s married, has an adopted daughter-slash-sister-in-law, and I’m pretty sure she and Shane are talking about having a baby of their own soon. I love Sarah, and I love that she’s so happy here.

But she claimed that birthright long before the thought even occurred to me. If I’m honest, deep down I’m a little jealous. Her life seems idyllic.

It’s not an option for me, though, and there’s no point dwelling on it. So, like my brothers, I’ve always aspired to get out of the tiny town that is Arcadian Falls. Sure, it’s cute here nestled in a valley between mountains, a lake and a river in spitting distance, but it’s also stifling when inheriting the family business isn’t an option. Nothing much changes here, and if it does, it’s only to make the town more of a tourist attraction. That’s the big industry. During the high seasons it’s packed, and the rest of the time, it’s dead. Even when the town is bursting with tourists, everything closes down by about nine at night.

Going to college in Portland has been great. I love the city, and I love that there’s so much to do. Plus, Ty and Olivia live across the river in Vancouver, which is only a short drive away, so I’m not completely cut off from my family—not that it’sthatfar to get home if I really want to. Mom and Dad helped me buy a car before I went to college, saying that way I could always come home when I need to. But being home, while nice for the first few days, always makes me feel restless after a while. Like there’s noplace for me here, and I need to find somewhere there’s room for me to grow.

The summers are the worst. People everywhere, but nothing much to do that I haven’t done every summer since I was born. And while I still enjoy floating the river or playing in the lake with my friends, more and more they’re staying away, and I’m left on my own, working in the shop, and trying to keep myself entertained.

If I can stay in Portland, I will. The problem is finding a job that pays enough. And since my degree is in psychology, that could be more difficult than I’d like. The obvious next step would be graduate school, but I’m kinda ready to be done with school for now. I need a break from the constant grind of projects and papers and tests and deadline after deadline after deadline. And as much as Ty and Olivia don’t mind me coming over to do laundry or whatever, I doubt they’d be okay with me living with them.

No, if I don’t find a way to support myself in Portland, the only option is to move back to Arcadian Falls.

There’s still time, though. It’s not like I can apply to full time jobs while I’m still finishing school, right? I’ll worry about that later. Like in March.

For now, I have my last season as an elf to finish …

Unless I end up moving back home. I’m not sure which thought makes me more sad.

Needing a pick-me-up, I finish my lunch and head over to the bakery booth near the front of the ChristmasFest space. One of the cookies from Give and Cake always helps me feel better. I told myself I’d resist more this year—because this elf costume isstarting to get tight—and I will, but not havingas manycookies isn’t the same as not havingany, right?

Right.

As long as the lines aren’t bad, I should have just enough time to snag a cookie and eat at least part of it before we reopen for the afternoon. That seems like a reasonable compromise—half the cookie now and half the cookie after, rather than a whole one now and possibly a whole one after depending on how today goes. Since I’m already tired and less cheerful than is recommended for one of Santa’s elves, let’s hope half of a giant Christmas cookie does the trick.

I do a little shimmy of delight when I see that there are only three people in front of me in line. As long as no one takes half an age to decide what they want, I should have no trouble getting back to the North Pole on time.

As the line moves forward, my brows draw together as I study the guy behind the counter. Usually it’s Dale Fitzpatrick, the owner of Give and Cake, who runs the booth at ChristmasFest. He’s like my parents—one of the die-hards that love the festival atmosphere and will likely be dragged out of here on a gurney. He’s older than Mom and Dad, though. I hope he’s okay.

But this new guy looks familiar, too. Something about the quirk of his lips as he smiles seems like someone I know, but I can’t place him.

It’s when he turns to hand a bakery bag to the customer two people in front of me that I gasp with realization.

It’s Austin Stanton.

My brother Dylan’s childhood best friend.

And my childhood nemesis.

CHAPTER THREE

Austin

I smileat the woman in the elf costume as she approaches my counter, a little confused by the scowl on her face. “Hi. What can I get you?” I keep my tone neutral but polite. She’s mad about something, but it probably has nothing to do with me.

“What are you doing here?” she spits, eyes snapping, behaving entirely unlike the jolly elves I’m used to seeing at the North Pole. I know I’m not a kid in line to see Santa or anything, but still, you’d think that if she’s in costume, she’d stay in character. Glancing around, I notice several children in earshot, once again clocking how much more crowded it is than I remember as a kid.

ChristmasFest has always been a big deal, but it’s grown a lot since I was here last. We came a few times while I was in high school, but I mostly remember it from when I was a lot younger. There are more booths, better decorations, and way, way more people than there used to be.

Lowering my voice, I lean forward on the counter. “Uh, running the Give and Cake booth at the ChristmasFest.” I gesture at hercostume. “Just like I’m assuming you’re working at the North Pole.”

Her scowl intensifies, and she looks like she wants to stomp her foot. “Do you seriously not know who I am?”

I blink at her for a few seconds, straightening to study her face, but come up empty. Shrugging, I shake my head. “Sorry. I got nothin’.”

Huffing, she rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, pressing her pert boobs up against the V neck of her green velvet dress. She’s pretty and cute. I feel like I’d remember her if we’d met before.

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