After all, what was the worst that could happen? It’s not like cookies would make him fall in love with her or anything.
Chapter Eleven
After uncovering the frozen sheets of cookie dough resting atop some Tupperware containers of butternut squash soup and tubs of eggnog ice cream, Kate made quick work of baking, and within a few minutes, the marble counters turned snow-white and sticky. Without a cookie-cutter or can of baking spray in sight, she improvised, using a wire star ornament to cut out the dough. A brief dig through the pantry and the fridge rewarded her with flour and butter to grease the cookie sheets. The available dough was meant to feed at least forty people, so once the first batch entered the oven, Kate focused on the next twenty or so cookies.
Did she need to bake every single bit of dough left behind in the freezer? Of course not. Even at her most hungry, Kate’s cookie-eating record never broke seventeen cookies in a single sitting. The end product of the baking wasn’t the point, really. She baked because it gave her something to do, something to occupy her hands as she tried to plan her next steps. The night was still young, and she wasn’t sure she’d made any progress with Clark earlier. Sure, he’d been slightly nicer to her than he was this morning, but he hadn’t seemed any more sympathetic to Christmas or the cause of saving the festival. She certainly had her work cut out for her. If a redecorated house, a feast and a visit to the river didn’t convince him, what would?
“Smells good in here.”
The steaming tray of cookies in Kate’s hands almost went flying across the room as a voice from the door behind her spooked her straight out of her skin.
“Sorry, sorry! Did I scare you?”
“I don’t know.” She dropped the steaming plate of cookies onto the counter as her free hand flew to her chest. She could feel her pounding heartbeat. Like being faked out by a horror movie jump-scare, Kate couldn’t help but chuckle even as she shivered in fear. “Maybe you should ask my ghost. You can’t just sneak up on people like that!”
Clark hovered in the doorway, halfway into the kitchen and halfway out, as if he couldn’t decide whether or not to fully engage with her. Since waking to find him precisely nowhere in his own house, Kate assumed Clark had been hiding from her to avoid any more Christmas talk, despite his promise to at least try and enjoy her company. Thinking he hated her and her holiday so much had stung, and his arrival here and now soothed the wounds only slightly. To his credit, Clark gave off a sufficiently sheepish air. He filled the room with his uncertainty.
“I smelled cookies.”
Oh. A stab of disappointment shot straight up Kate’s arm, following the flow of her blood until it pierced and filled her heart. He hadn’t come because he wanted to talk to her or come out of hiding. She’d angered him with more supposed “waste” of his family’s resources. Kate turned her back on him. If he wanted to chew her out, fine. But she didn’t have to pay attention. She transferred the steaming cookies from the baking sheet to the cooling rack she’d found in the back of a dusty cabinet.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t spend any of your money to make them.”
“No, that’s not why I’m here. I just wanted one.”
“Really?”
“I like sugar cookies.” He shrugged. “Is that a crime?”
“Not at all.” If anything, the defensive admission only endeared him to her. Clark prowled around Miller’s Point with all of the arrogant attitude of a demigod. Liking cookies made him more human in her eyes. She tried to imagine Clark sitting on a beat-up couch somewhere eating a plate full of cookies for Santa. The picture never came into focus. “It’s just surprising, I guess.”
“Why?”
“You don’t like anything other people like. I just assumed you usually eat nothing but plain yogurt and protein bars. And water.”
Given that he didn’t know she’d been accidentally spying on him, she couldn’t tell him she’d seen him order a plate of pancakes and bacon at Mel’s, so she stuck with gentle teasing instead. As someone who ate almost every breakfast at a greasy diner in the town square, Kate couldn’t think of anything more disgusting than plain yogurt and protein bars. She preferred her pancakes like Emily preferred her men: rich and sweet.
“There’s nothing wrong with plain yogurt,” was his weak defense.
“Yeah, if you enjoy things that don’t taste good.”
Clark reached for the cookies, stopping himself short in a “where are my manners” way.
“May I?”
“No, I’m sorry. They’re all for me.”
“You’re gonna eat all…” Sweeping the cooling rack with his eyes, Clark gave a quick whispered count under his breath. “All twenty-four of these?”
“I’m hungry.”
“Seriously?”
“No, not seriously,” she huffed. “Eat as many as you want. Are you sure you want to though? I wouldn’t want you to spoil your precious diet.”
A diet program never came up in their conversations. It didn’t have to. Despite those pancakes at the diner—which could have been explained away by a cheat day or the fact that Mel didn’t serve healthy food—Clark was the kind of man whose tight belts screamed, “I had exactly 1.1 ounces of cashew nuts today as a snack. That’s exactly 143 calories and lots of good fats to fuel my crossfit workout later this afternoon.” The tips of his ears went red and he reached for the cookies anyway, taking one into each hand. Kate followed his lead.
“It’s a holiday, right? I can afford the calories.”
“Then you admit it. A holiday is happening.”
“Just because I don’t celebrate it doesn’t mean it’s not happening. Besides…” They shared a meaningful look. What kind of meaning, Kate wasn’t sure. But it meant something. Her insides churned. “I promised someone I’d give it the old college try.”
On the surface, she liked the sound of that. He’d come down here
