Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty (Festive Flames)
Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty: Chapter 12

I need to talk to Lily.

About the kiss. About why I left. About how things stand between us.

Mostly, I just want to see her, and bringing these things up to her risks losing her forever, but it’s a risk I have to take.

I leave the clinic around lunchtime with a promise to bring back a pastry for Margret and head through the town with the bakery as my destination.

The auction last night was an insane success, and all night long I was unable to stop thinking about Lily. How gorgeous she looked on the stage, how beautiful she looked in that dress, and then how amazing she felt in my arms.

I craved more the second that kiss was over, but she was whisked away, and I know I shouldn’t ask for more. I have no right to even want more since I was the one who walked away all those years ago.

But it was the biggest mistake of my life and I can’t let her slip through my fingers. Not for a second time. Maybe there’s nothing between us and we’re destined to be friends. That’s what my heart tells me as I trudge through the light snow dusting the ground.

A biting chill wraps its cold fingers around any glimpse of bare skin, so I tuck my head down into the collar of my coat and shove my hands as deep into my pockets as I can. Back in the city, cold like this was unheard of. Warmth flowed from every building, and all my family’s cars were heated. Even in the depths of winter, cold was an afterthought, more like an aesthetic chased by the millionaires around me who would talk endlessly about a mountain hike in some obscure winter country like it was some kind of achievement.

I’m quickly learning that those people were more pretentious than I could have imagined because regular people dealt with the cold without complaint every day.

I certainly felt like a poor little rich boy the moment the days started to turn cold here, and I still haven’t learned despite the snow covering the ground and the heavy grey clouds above.

I focus on being greeted by the comforting warmth and smell of the bakery, and it keeps the cold at bay as I walk. In just a few weeks, the town has turned from a gorgeous autumnal town to a winter wonderland with Christmas bleeding from every available crevice. Christmas lights cling to every streetlight, with strings of color connecting them all like a dot-to-dot puzzle. Christmas trees of all sizes sit in front of shops, on top of post boxes, and decorate the town square like its own little forest.

The Christmas spirit is well in the air, and it may be the first time in my life that I’ve really felt it. Christmas with my parents was dinner parties in rich, mahogany-filled offices and boring small talk with stiffs in suits. There was little in the way of cheer and certainly nothing like ugly Christmas sweaters or sparkling neon lights.

I pass at least six Christmas-sweater-wearing people on my walk and make a mental note to get one of my own. I want to embrace that cheerfulness.

I cross the town square and turn down the street where the bakery is, only where I expect to see Sweet Noel lit up with its usual golden light, there’s nothing but a harsh glare of bright lights and a police car parked outside.

All festive cheer vanishes from my heart, replaced by a coldness that freezes across my chest.

I break into a run, sprinting across the street. Panic grips me and multiple terrible, dark thoughts burst through my mind in the seconds it takes me to reach the bakery.

Is Lily okay? Did something happen to her? Is this my fault for not insisting on seeing her home?

With my heart in my mouth, I burst into the bakery and brace myself for a scene from a horror movie or worse.

Instead, there is only Lily, who leaps up at my entrance and clutches a broom to her chest.

“Fucking hell!” she squeals, and her face turns pale, then it floods with color. “James! What the fuck are you doing?”

“Oh, my God, Lily!” I surge forward but catch myself before I actually touch her. “I saw the police car and I just… I don’t know. I was so scared something had happened to you.”

I scan her face and every inch of her body, right down to her snow-covered boots. Her hair is scraped messily up on top of her head, and there are bags under her eyes. She’s dressed in sweatpants and a loose plaid shirt that’s buttoned up wrong, but I refrain from pointing it out.

“Nothing happened to me,” Lily snaps. “Although you nearly gave me a damn heart attack!”

“I’m sorry.” I hold up both hands. “I was just scared.”

“I…” Lily’s shoulders slump, then she rubs at her forehead with the back of her hand and pushes some stray hairs away from her face. “I’m okay. But this place…”

It’s then I notice the state the bakery is in. Behind me, the glass on the door is broken. The floor is littered with glass shards and cake from the destroyed display cases that line up alongside the counter. The till dangles from cables a few inches from the floor, and all the shelves behind the counter, usually filled with desserts and awards, are smashed to pieces.

“Oh, my God.” I can scarcely believe what I’m seeing. “What… Lily, what happened?”

She dejectedly shrugs one shoulder and leans against her broom. “I have no fucking idea. Cops came to my house this morning to say the alarm had tripped in my bakery but the security company couldn’t get ahold of me. I’d left my phone downstairs in my purse when I went to sleep, so I missed their calls. By the time the cops got here, the place looked like this.”

My mouth hangs open and I turn slowly, taking in every detail of destruction. Who the hell breaks into a bakery?

“Is anything missing?”

“My award,” Lily mutters. “But I don’t care about that. All of this…” She casts one hand toward the destroyed display cases. “The cakes and desserts I made are wrecked. I can’t sell them. I’ll lose so much money on them because my insurance doesn’t cover baked goods. Which…” She puffs out her cheeks. “I’m going to argue about it, but who knows.”

“And the back?” I glance toward the door leading deeper into the bakery.

“Whoever it was didn’t make it that far. Thankfully. It makes no sense because if I were gonna rob this place, I would go straight to the back and try and haul out the oven or something. That monster cost me fifteen grand. But this… this just hurts.”

The pain in her voice cuts through me like a hot knife. All plans to talk about the kiss and everything else instantly vanish from my mind. I shrug off my coat.

“How can I help?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Lily says. “I’ve got this. The cop car outside is just to serve as a deterrent in case the culprit comes back. Apparently, they think whoever did it will come back to take in the damage as a passerby.”

“Does that make me look guilty?” I joke softly.

Lily closes her eyes briefly. “No. Unless you secretly hate bakeries.”

“No, I’m a huge fan,” I assure her. “But seriously, you shouldn’t be doing this by yourself. Let me help. Whatever you need. Cleaning, coffee, something to eat? I’m your guy.”

Lily puffs out her cheeks and rubs at her neck as she glances around, then she nods slowly. “If you insist, I could use help cleaning up. But don’t you have patients?”

“I’m on admin all afternoon,” I reply. “And that isn’t as important as this.”

“Are you sure?”

I set my coat down on the counter where Lily’s own jacket is draped. “Yes. Now, do you have another broom?”

We spent the next three hours cleaning up the bakery, and we made a good dent in the carnage with the two of us. Lily assured me she’d taken enough pictures and recordings for insurance, and the police had already given her the go-ahead to sort things out. We swept the floor and carefully cleaned up all the glass and destroyed food. I tackled the shelving and ended up having to break the rest of them because the splintered wood was too dangerous to leave up. By the time the floor was clear, twenty-seven trash bags sat outside on the sidewalk for curious onlookers to gawk at, and Lily had a small smile on her face again.

“I’m so sorry,” I say as we rest on the freshly cleaned floor drinking coffee. “I can’t imagine how this must feel.”

“I’m switching between heartbroken and angry,” Lily replies. “I don’t understand why someone would do this. If it’s targeted, I can’t fathom why. And if it’s random, then… well, I also can’t fathom why.” She shakes her head. “Who could do something so horrible? I mean… all I do is bake. I make things for people. All day. Every day. Who would⁠—”

Her voice softens and she chokes up, lowering her head to her hand.

My heart aches for her and I can’t help myself. I gently drape my arm over her shoulder, and when she leans into me, I pull her against me.

“Whoever did this is a prick. And they’ll be caught. This town is small. That fucker can’t hide forever. And I know this hurts, but these people? The people you strive to help and feed? They’ll help you. I’m sure of it. We’ll get you back on your feet in no time.”

Lily sniffles against me and nods. “I know. I just need to feel shitty about this for a little while.”

“I know. I’ve got you.”

We stay like that, cuddled, until the coffee in my cup loses all its heat. Then Lily suddenly pulls away and scrambles to her feet.

“Shit. I have to go and collect Emma. But I was supposed to wait for the cops to come back and lock the place up until I get my door fixed.”

“Go,” I tell her, climbing to my feet. “I can watch this place for you. And I can finish with those shelves.”

“Are you sure?” Lily looks up at me with big eyes, and once again, those nervous butterflies make a fluttering return to my gut.

“Absolutely. Go. Please.”

“Thank you! I will be so fast, I swear.” Lily grabs my arm and squeezes, then she snatches up her coat from the counter and darts out the door.

I keep busy with the remainder of the cleaning, focusing on the shelving. What hasn’t been removed is beyond my skill to remove, and it looks like Lily will have to get a whole new shelving unit installed. I make a mental note to ask Margret who she used to set up the shelving in my office.

Maybe I can get them at a discount to help Lily.

As I drag the broom across the floor behind the counter, the door clatters. “Did you forget something?” I ask without looking up.

“Huh?” responds a voice that doesn’t belong to Lily.

I glance up and tense. Mark.

He stands in the middle of the shop, looking around with a frown. “What is this? Renovation?”

“Break-in.”

“At a bakery?” Mark scoffs.

“Yup. You think the cop car outside is decoration?”

Mark glances back outside, then gives me a cool look. “It’s a small town. Cops gotta park somewhere.”

Annoying logic.

“Where’s Lily?” Mark asks.

“Collecting Emma. Can I help you?”

Mark’s eyes narrow, and then he glances at the broom. “Though you were some hotshot doctor. Now you’re a maid?”

“I’m multi-talented. Again, can I help you?”

“Nah. I’ll just wait for Emma.”

“No can do.”

“Huh? The hell are you to tell me what I can and can’t do?”

“I’m the maid,” I snap back sarcastically. “But Lily left me in charge, and no one is supposed to be in here without her permission. Unless you want to have this conversation with the cop who’s on the way to seal up the door?”

Mark glances behind him, then looks back at me. “Whatever. Tell her I came by.”

“If I remember.”

“What the hell is your problem?”

“Nothing.” How do I tell him I’m jealous? We don’t know each other and yet I’m so insanely jealous that he got to give Lily a daughter and a family. He got that with her while I was wrapped up with my suffocating family. “Just doing as she asked.”

Mark’s lips part as if he has more to say, then he appears to change his mind and just smirks. “Whatever. Just tell her I’ll be in touch about the date.”

My heart punches hard against my ribs. Date?

“Sure,” I reply tightly. “Assuming she’s still interested after last night. The auction was quite a hit.”

Mark wrinkles his nose. “I heard some parts were a bit… lackluster,” he says, and there’s a flash of anger in his eyes. Then he turns and storms out of the bakery.

I tighten my grip on the broom and bite the inside of my cheek.

A date, huh? Mark may be Emma’s father, but that doesn’t mean I’m rolling over this time.

Mark’s got competition.