Page 18 of Wintertime Heat (Holiday 1)

“Are you lost?” I stare at him.

The man held out a huge basket in his hands, and he read from a slip in his hand, “Abby Johnson?”

“Yeah.” I say, warily.

“These are for you.” He hands me the basket, before touching his cap, and turning around.

Still standing in the doorway, I open the note that was stuck on the basket, and my heart skips a beat at the words.

“What is it?” Scarlett calls out from the kitchen.

I crumple the card in my hand, stuffing it into the pockets of my jeans, before saying, “Somebody sent us muffins.”

Scarlett appears in the doorway of the small foyer, looking a little taken aback, “Somebody just randomly sent us muffins?”

She peeks in and makes a disappointed sound, “These are blueberry muffins. They’re your favourite, not mine.”

Taking a step back, she gives me an odd look, “Somebody sent you blueberry muffins. And -“she checks the logo on the basket, “-from one of those top tier bakeries that we saw on TV the other day.”

She takes a step closer and her eyes narrow when I take one back. I didn’t know what she was up to till she made a grab for me, making me jump in surprise.

However, she had seen the note in my pocket and now it was in her hands.

"’Aaron told me you like blueberry muffins. Steven.’”

Scarlett gave me a look, “Steven Tanner sent you muffins!?”

I felt a little awkward and unsure, “I didn’t ask him to.”

“Of course, you didn’t,” Scarlett just studies me. “The man sent you muffins from one of the most famous bakeries in Boston. What’s going on between the two of you?”

“Nothing,” I protest. “I don’t even like him. He’s a jerk!”

“Really?” A sly smile forms on Scarlett’s lips. Backing, away, she plops her perfect little ass on the couch and pats on the seat beside her, “Come tell Aunty Scarlett all about it.”

I sigh.

This was definitely not going to go over well.

Chapter 7

Yawning, I mix the sandwich batter.

It was too early to be cooking, but since today every class was having a small party at the end of the day, we all had to bring something. I opted for egg salad sandwiches.

A glance at the clock showed the time to be five in the morning.

Scarlett was slumped over the island counter behind me, already snoring. I roll my eyes at her. I had told her she didn’t need to help me, but she was adamant.

Another three weeks, and she would be gone for her Christmas vacations.

I sigh. Yesterday’s conversation had gone just as I had anticipated.

“He’s flirting with you!”

“How do you flirt with someone by getting in their face!?”

I whip the batter a little too hard and some of it flew onto the counter. Cleaning it up, I pick up my coffee and sip it, lost in thoughts.

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