Page 46 of Say It Isn't Snow
“It does,” I agree warmly. “Thank you for doing this.”
“Of course.” He curls his fingers around my hip and kisses my temple.
“I used to love looking at this when I was here in the winter.” I gesture to the snow globe.
“Yeah?”
I nod. “I love snow globes. When I was little, I collected them. I even wished I could be inside one.”
“Did you think they were pretty and made of magic?”
“Yes, but also because this is what my head has always felt like.”
He hums inquisitively, waiting patiently for me to explain myself. I shake it so the snow flies everywhere and show him.
“All the snow swirling around me is the chaos I exist in and I’m the only one who knows how to handle it all. When it’s storming, it’s a lot to manage. But there’s peace in there too when I’ve weathered the storm.”
“Alone?” he clarifies with a frown. “You’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself.”
I shrug. “I thrive under pressure.”
“But you don’t have to without someone else to help you ease it. I don’t want you to be in your head alone,” he says softly. “I want to be in the snow globe with you, sugar.”
A lump forms in my throat at him wanting to be my support, making it difficult to speak. I melt against him, tucking my head beneath his chin. He holds me tight in his embrace.
A million worries constantly flit through my head.
Yet none of them matter to me right now. Caleb’s presence chases everything away until it’s just the two of us together.
CHAPTER 16
HOLLY
“How canyou pick apple cobbler over bourbon bread pudding?” I plant my hands on the island counter across from Caleb. “Oh, I don’t think so. I’m going to prove you wrong right now.”
He shrugs. “I’ve always been an apple cobbler guy. Is that wrong?”
“No.” I lean in to level him with a grave look. “But it’s not right, either. My bourbon maple pecan bread pudding is the best in New England. As soon as you try it, you’ll change your mind.”
It’s the middle of the day. After he made breakfast—something I’m growing accustomed to, allowing myself the simple enjoyment of being looked after without having to worry about one more thing like what I’ll make to eat—I got the belated approval back for a New Year’s party custom cookie order.
If I test the designs today I can email a detailed step by step guide to Leo for him, Hazel, and Leta to at least get the base cookies done by the time I’m back at the bakery to manage the decorating stage.
That is, until Caleb challenged my beloved bourbon bread pudding, my favorite holiday treat. The cookie test run will have to wait until I make him reconsider this.
He circles the island and catches my wrist as I reach for one of my aprons.
“You don’t like the idea of not being right,” he muses.
My chin lifts. “Hate it. I’m right and I’m going to make you eat your words. Right after you eat my pie.”
He tugs me into him, his breath ghosting over my ear. “How about I have you instead? You’re my real favorite meal, morning and night.”
I fight off a blush. “Nice try at distracting me. You just don’t want me to make you the best damn winter dessert you’ll ever taste.”
“Easy. That’s you.”
He kisses the sensitive spot beneath my ear, smiling against my throat when my resolve to work evaporates and I sag against him. My teeth drag over my lip as his fingertips skim beneath my sweater to trace my skin.
