Arianna was down to her last batch of cookies, and the line of waiting patrons didn’t let up. She was sure to run out of treats well before six o’clock, when the festival’s third evening of events began. Tonight was the snowman-building contest, and most of the patrons were families with small children. Arianna hated the thought of disappointing so many of them when she was unable to provide some sweet and delicious Christmas magic.
“I’d like one order of your Christmas Memories pairing,” a man said in a smooth voice. “And can you package the cookie in a pretty box?”
Arianna shook off her thoughts. A tall man with almond-toned skin stood at the front of the line, bundled up in a black leather jacket and a black-and-grey plaid scarf. A warm smile traced his solid jawline, which sported a shadow of a beard. Her heart stuttered briefly, and she returned his contagious smile. “Coming right up, sir.” She opened the glass display case and retrieved a Christmas tree–shaped peppermint cookie—the very last one—with a pair of metal tongs. She set the cookie in a small, wax paper–lined box printed with holly and candy cane images and secured the box with a glittering gold ribbon. A sweet gift for his wife or child. What a thoughtful, loving gentleman.
Turning her back to him, she faced the hot chocolate machine and tried to focus while she filled a paper cup with white hot chocolate. Her brain was frazzled. She wondered if that mysterious, handsome gentleman was local or just passing through. She’d never seen him before. Still, the man’s presence made her heart stutter, an emotion she hadn’t felt in years. She couldn’t worry about relationships and how long it had been since she’d had a date when she had a business to run. And with Christmas approaching in three days, all her efforts would be spent baking and helping others make sweet memories.
She set the cup and box on the counter. As she rang up the items, the man slid some money across to her.
“Keep the change,” he said.
Furrowing her brow, Arianna looked from the register to his hand splayed over a twenty-dollar bill. Her eyes widened slightly. She wasn’t sure whether she should be surprised by his generous tip or by the fact that he didn’t sport a ring. Must be a gift for his girlfriend, then. Arianna hoped that girl knew just how lucky she was to have a handsome gentleman like him. “Th-thank you,” Arianna finally said.
The man grinned and took the items. “You’re welcome”—he glanced at her name tag— “Arianna?”
She smiled softly and nodded. Hearing her name on his tongue brought warmth and joy to her heart.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Mark.” His eyes bounced back to the display case and suddenly widened. “Wait, are those macarons?”
Arianna held her head proudly. Those were her prized sweets. After many failures, she’d managed to master the art of making the perfect macaron. “Sure are.”
“Not many chefs can pull off the perfect macaron. Yours are flawless. Smooth skin with just the right lift in the feet. You have a good folding technique since the shells have a healthy rise. I’ve never seen anything more amazing.”
Arianna beamed and felt her cheeks flaming. He sounded knowledgeable. Is he a chef himself, perhaps? “Thank you.”
He nodded and turned as if to leave. “Thanks for the chat. I’ll leave you to it. Merry Christmas.”
She watched him squeeze through the crowd at the entrance and disappear into the square under the gentle haze of falling snow. Merry Christmas, Mark.
Chapter 2
“Did you get what I asked?”
Mark regarded the young woman who sat among several stacks of books beneath her vendor tent in the main square. Her thin lips rose in an amused smile. Mark scratched the back of his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about that gorgeous pastry chef at Sweet Peach Bake Shop. After getting over a bad relationship two months ago, he never thought he would be interested in finding love again. But somehow, that brief encounter with Arianna had ignited a new spark of possibility. Mustering the courage to talk to her, however, would be a challenge. She appeared so busy in her shop, he figured she wouldn’t have time for him. But he had to try to connect with her, at least. He was vacationing in White Pine for only a week before he headed to Las Vegas. “Yeah, Raina,” he finally said, handing the woman the cup of white hot chocolate and the decorative cookie box. “And I apparently got the very last ones.”
Raina’s eyes glittered as she took the items and peeked inside the box. “Oh, how lucky! Thanks.”
Mark looked at her expectantly. “Well? Are you going to give it to me now or what?”
She took a long sip of chocolate and smiled in satisfaction. “Mmm. Yes, yes, I know. A deal’s a deal.” She reached behind her and retrieved a thick book off a stack. “And a trade for a trade. Hope you’ll find better use for this than the last owner.”
“Thanks.” Mark took the book and stared at the hard cover. He ran his fingers over the raised lettering that read Vintage Christmas Recipes of Yesteryear. The book had caught his eye when he’d paid a visit to the town square earlier that afternoon to check out the festivities. An avid collector of cookbooks, and a sucker for vintage recipes, Mark believed this book in particular would help him hone his culinary skills. He needed the perfect recipe to present when he flew to Las Vegas and appeared live on stage with his favorite celebrity chef, Justina Ayers. All his dreams had come true when he’d been selected as one of the ten winners of Justina’s Top Chef contest. Mark had received a letter from Justina’s manager letting him know that he would appear on the daytime television show Cooking with Justina next week. By impressing his longtime celebrity idol, Mark could validate himself and get the exposure that might result in an offer of being a head chef at some fancy restaurant—or having a television show of his own.
Clutching the book under his arm, he left the square. On his way to the bed-and-breakfast where he was staying, he passed by the sweet shop and noticed a sign on the door that read, “Out of the Christmas Memories pairing. Sorry for the inconvenience!” The massive line of people that had been wrapped around the block had been reduced to a few patrons lingering inside. Arianna was still hard at work fulfilling orders, her bronze skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Her dark-brown eyes bounced from the register, to the patrons, then to the food as she scrambled about. Mark hesitated before entering her shop, wondering if she would bother talking to him.
If he was going to approach her again, it might as well be while the place wasn’t busy. His time was running out, so he headed across the street. As he reached the entrance, the last patron left, and the owner was finally alone. Mark dusted his jacket of the tiny flakes of snow and ducked inside. Arianna was behind the counter, transferring empty trays from the display cases to a large dishwashing sink. It was still a few hours from closing time, and her shop was already devoid of her sweet stock.
With her head down, Arianna energetically spritzed the countertop with pine-scented spray and wiped it down with a holly-printed cloth. Mark approached the counter, and she stopped and looked up as if doing a double take. “Oh, h-hi again. Back for more? I’m very sorry about this, but I’m completely sold out of everything.”
Mark smiled. “It’s a good problem to have, though.”