The snowstorm showed no signs of letting up, trapping Lucas in Evergreen for another day. He wasn't used to this kind of forced idleness—his life was a constant flurry of meetings, emails, and high-stakes decisions. Yet here, in this small town that seemed frozen in time, everything moved at a slower, quieter pace.
By midmorning, Emma was back in her bakery. Lucas, reluctant to spend the day cooped up in her modest guest room, followed her over. The moment he stepped inside, he was hit by the now-familiar aroma of cinnamon and sugar mingled with fresh coffee.
"Do you ever make anything that *isn't* a dessert?" he asked, scanning the rows of cookies, cakes, and pastries displayed behind the glass counter.
Emma looked up from kneading a ball of dough, her hair already dusted with flour. "Not unless you count savory scones. Why? Got something against sugar?"
Lucas smirked. "Let's just say I prefer espresso to eggnog lattes."
Emma snorted. "Figures." She returned to her dough, her hands moving deftly as she shaped it into a perfect rectangle. "If you're going to hang around here all day, you might as well make yourself useful."
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "You want me to help? In the bakery?"
Emma shrugged. "Unless you'd rather sit around and complain about the weather. Just don't expect me to let you near the ovens."
Lucas hesitated. Manual labor wasn't exactly his forte, but the alternative—hours of boredom in the tiny guest room—wasn't appealing either. "Fine," he said. "What do you need me to do?"
Emma gestured toward a tray of undecorated cookies. "Start with these. Frosting's in the piping bags over there. And try not to make a mess."
Lucas walked over to the counter and picked up a piping bag, inspecting it like it was a foreign object. "How hard can it be?" he muttered.
The first cookie was a disaster. The frosting came out too fast, pooling in a lopsided blob that looked nothing like the elegant snowflake Emma had demonstrated earlier. The second was marginally better, though still far from perfect. By the third, Lucas managed something that resembled a star.
Emma glanced over and burst out laughing. "Is that supposed to be a snowflake or an abstract painting?"
Lucas glared at her. "I'd like to see you negotiate a multimillion-dollar deal, then we'll talk about skill sets."
Emma grinned, wiping her hands on her apron. "Fair enough. Here, let me show you."
She stood beside him, her hands guiding his as he held the piping bag. Her touch was firm but surprisingly gentle, and for a moment, Lucas found himself distracted by the way her auburn hair caught the light.
"Focus," Emma said, her tone teasing. "This isn't brain surgery, but it does take a little finesse."
Lucas cleared his throat and nodded, concentrating on the cookie in front of him. Under her guidance, his frosting lines became smoother, the patterns more precise. By the time they finished the tray, he had to admit the cookies didn't look half bad.
"Not bad for a beginner," Emma said, stepping back to admire their work.
Lucas allowed himself a small smile. "Coming from you, I'll take that as high praise."
---
The bell above the bakery door jingled, and a woman in a bright red coat stepped inside, bringing a gust of cold air with her.
"Emma!" she called, her voice warm and cheerful.
"Mrs. Thompson!" Emma greeted, hurrying around the counter to hug the older woman. "What can I get you today?"
"Just a loaf of your cranberry walnut bread. My husband's been raving about it since Thanksgiving," Mrs. Thompson said, her eyes twinkling.
Emma laughed. "Coming right up."
As she packed the loaf, Mrs. Thompson's gaze landed on Lucas. "Oh, and who's this? A new helper?"
Before Lucas could answer, Emma spoke up. "This is Lucas Hale. He's…visiting."
Mrs. Thompson's smile widened. "Well, welcome to Evergreen, Mr. Hale. Are you here for the holidays?"
"Something like that," Lucas said, unsure how much Emma had told the townsfolk about his real purpose.
"He got stranded in the storm," Emma added quickly, handing Mrs. Thompson her bread.
"Well, you couldn't have picked a better place to get stuck," Mrs. Thompson said. "Enjoy your stay, and don't forget to try Emma's peppermint bark. It's the best in the county!"
Lucas gave a polite nod as Mrs. Thompson left, the door jingling shut behind her.
"You're quite the local celebrity," he remarked, watching as Emma returned to the counter.
Emma shrugged. "Small towns are like that. Everyone knows everyone."
"And everyone loves you," Lucas added, surprising himself with the observation.
Emma paused, her cheeks flushing faintly. "Not everyone," she said, her tone soft but pointed.
Lucas knew she was referring to him. He didn't respond, instead turning his attention back to the cookies.
---
By midday, the bakery was bustling with customers. Lucas found himself surprisingly caught up in the rhythm of it all—taking orders, boxing up pastries, and even managing the cash register under Emma's watchful eye. The work was repetitive but oddly satisfying, and for the first time in years, Lucas felt a sense of accomplishment that wasn't tied to numbers on a spreadsheet.
"Here," Emma said during a brief lull, handing him a cup of hot cocoa. "You've earned it."
Lucas took a cautious sip, expecting something overly sweet, but the rich, velvety drink was perfectly balanced. "This is actually good," he admitted.
Emma rolled her eyes. "You say that like you're surprised."
"I am," Lucas said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. "I didn't think hot cocoa could be…complex."
Emma laughed, and the sound was warm and genuine. "There's more to life than espresso, Mr. Hale."
For a moment, Lucas allowed himself to relax, enjoying the easy banter. The storm outside raged on, but inside the bakery, everything felt calm and right.
He hadn't expected to find anything worthwhile in Evergreen, let alone in a tiny bakery run by a woman who refused to back down. But as he watched Emma greet her customers with warmth and humor, he couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, there was more to this town—and to her—than he'd given credit for.