She briefly matched his smile before the corners of her mouth slowly dropped. “Yes, I suppose it is. I just always feel horrible to see all the disappointed faces of families and children who were unable to get any Christmas pastries or hot chocolate.”
He frowned as well. “Sounds like you need help making more stock.”
“That would be great, but I don’t know any experienced pastry chefs around here.”
Mark’s frown lifted, and he regarded her, amused. “I’m no stranger to working in pastry kitchens. They were some of my most memorable jobs.”
Tilting her head to the side, Arianna narrowed her eyes slightly and scrunched her nose. “I’m sorry. Who are you, again?”
He released an airy chuckle. “I’m Mark, remember? Mark Ellison. I’m just vacationing here for the week of Christmas, then I will be off to an… interview for a chef position.” He was careful not to mention Justina’s name, as he wasn’t sure whether dropping a celebrity’s name might ultimately backfire on him.
Arianna blinked once. “Wait. So you are a chef!”
“I’d like to think I am. I’ve been exposed to a wide variety of cuisines, having interned at cafés and restaurants back in New York City and Long Island, my current home.”
“You like working as a chef?”
“What chef doesn’t like being able to explore their passion of creating unique dishes that wow customers?”
One corner of her lips tugged upward. “There’s a place in town called Frandles Gourmet Cuisine, which is owned by a locally famous chef. While I’ve never been there, I’ve heard nothing but glowing reviews about the place. I heard they’re looking for a sous chef.”
Mark was slightly taken aback by her response. Frandles sounded like the kind of white-tablecloth restaurant where people went on dates. The fact that she’d never been there might have meant she didn’t have a date. Could a gorgeous, hardworking woman like her really be single? “How about we go there tonight? I’ll get us the best seats in the house.”
A hint of red tinted her cheeks. “That sounds nice, but honestly? I’d prefer a quiet meal at home.”
Simple and honest. There was a certain charming appeal about that. “I hear you. Okay, then. How about I invite you for a nice home-cooked meal at the bed-and-breakfast I’m staying at?”
The redness on her cheeks became more prominent. “You’re persistent, aren’t you?”
“Well, you said you can’t find any experienced chefs to help you around here, so maybe I can volunteer my time at your shop for a bit.”
She blinked. “You want to work for me?”
“Sure. Why not? I don’t mind. Come to the bed-and-breakfast tonight, and I’ll prove my culinary skills.” He cracked a smile.
“You work as a chef at a bed-and-breakfast?”
“I’m not exactly an employee there. I’ve been volunteering my time since I arrived four days ago. I helped Paulette, the owner, make some quiche for breakfast one morning, and she was so impressed with my cooking, she pretty much lets me use the kitchen anytime.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Wow, you must be pretty good.”
He shook his head. “I’m just a man who loves to cook. That’s all.” Especially for a gorgeous, charming woman like you.
“All right, then. I guess I’ll take you up on your offer.” She sighed. “This is the first time I’ve had to close up shop early because I sold out of everything.”
“Be ready for the rush again tomorrow.”
She made a face. “I wish this hadn’t happened during the week of Christmas, when I’ve had to turn so many children and families away. I called my pairing Christmas Memories for a reason.”
He understood and appreciated her treats being in high demand. That was why he had to make tonight’s dinner extra special. He gave her the address of the bed-and-breakfast. “Come by around eight tonight.”
Her eyebrows rose slightly. “They actually serve dinner at that bed-and-breakfast?”
“Why not?”
“Seems odd.”
He laughed. “Okay. No, they don’t serve dinner there. But they have a full kitchen with a stove. Why couldn’t they serve whatever they wanted? Besides, I’m allowed to use the kitchen whenever I want.”
She chewed her bottom lip. “Are you sure you’ll have enough time to cook dinner?”
Her continuous excuses amused him and only solidified the fact that he had one chance to make the night special. “Two hours is plenty of time.” He backed toward the door. “It’s a date, then. Right?”
She watched him a moment, the confused expression on her face softening. “It’s a date. See you at eight.”
Chapter 3
A date. Mark never thought he would actually say those words again. And he couldn’t believe Arianna had accepted his offer. What a vacation this was turning out to be. He hadn’t thought relationships would ever be in the cards for him again. After frequently coming home at late hours as a result of working overtime as a fill-in or assistant chef, he’d broken up with his girlfriend of seven months. His skills were in high demand, and he’d never refused to help a young upstart who was interested in the culinary arts. But his culinary passion had put a toll on his relationship, and he figured it was best to never get involved again, to never break another heart.
He’d come to White Pine to escape the stresses of his break-up, his layoff from his relief-chef job at an exclusive five-star restaurant in Manhattan, and the fact that he would be spending Christmas alone this year. A holiday trip to a cozy bed-and-breakfast was just what he needed to remind him of the memorable Christmases he’d spent with his family as a boy. Once Christmas was over, he would be off to Las Vegas to meet Justina Ayers.
Clutching his newly acquired cookbook under one arm, Mark strode down the snow-covered sidewalk, admiring the lighted houses and yard decorations in the neighborhood just a few blocks away from the square. People bundled up in coats and scarves admired some of the brightly lit houses that twinkled with carnival colors. Mark quietly brushed past the oglers and made his way to the pastel-pink colonial-style cottage of White Pine Bed & Breakfast. He opened the gate to the waist-high white picket fence that wrapped around the property, and he climbed a set of brick stairs leading to the front porch. Multicolored Christmas lights strung along the eaves and frame of the front door twinkled in unique patterns. A large pine wreath decorated with tiny white lights, pinecones, and colorful orbs hung prominently on the door’s glass window.
Entering, Mark was greeted with the homey warmth of the small fire from the common room fireplace. Paulette, the manager and innkeeper, sat on a padded stool before a group of children sitting cross-legged on the floor, and their parents were seated on the couches and chairs around the room. Paulette read Christmas stories from a large hardback picture book, and the children watched, clearly intrigued, holding little paper cups of hot chocolate topped with small marshmallows.
Mark stopped at the narrow doorway to the common room and watched Paulette’s rendition of ’Twas the Night Before Christmas come to life with distinctive expressions and intonations from her aged face. Though almost eighty, Paulette was still as spry as ever. She met Mark’s gaze with a brief nod then returned to the story.