Troping Through the Snow by Alexa Riley

Not to mention Tinsel has joked about Clause being one since he stays out in the woods being all mysterious. I told her that if she thought he was up to no good, why didn’t she investigate him? Really I wanted her to dig up information for me, but she shrugged it off and said that would ruin the fun of it. Whatever that meant.

I don’t know how someone can keep themselves locked away, because I’m having a hard time not needing a roommate. I might get a cat or something because I keep catching myself talking to myself.

Pulling out my phone, I know I have no choice but to reach out to Clause. While I cleaned and prepped for tomorrow, I could put it to the back of my mind, but now everyone is gone and I’m alone with my thoughts.

I’m not going to call, but I’ll text instead. That’s what normal people do.

Me: Good evening, Clause. This is Frostie from the bakery. You gave me your number and told me to reach out. Did you need to place an order?

I hit send. It took me ten minutes to come up with that, but I’m going to try and avoid the box mix situation and see how that goes.

Clause: I know it’s you, Frostie. We both know I don’t want to place an order. I don’t want the box mix. I want the real thing.

Shit. Okay, I can do this. It’s text, and I can’t incriminate myself.

Me: I can assure you anything I make for you will be from scratch.

Clause: Good, then be here at nine and we’ll talk about what exactly it is I want.

Me: Here? As in the bakery?

Clause: No, my place. I’m guessing you’ll want to have this conversation in private.

I’m about to text him that no one is at the bakery now so we it would be private, but another text comes through.

Clause: This isn’t a request. Be here at nine.

I glare down at my phone. Who does he think he is? I pull off my apron as I head up the stairs to my apartment to change. I don’t understand why he can’t text me what he wants and I could bring it over.

Me: If you’d tell me what you’d like I could make it fresh and bring it over.

Clause: I’d rather you make it here so I know I’m getting what I ordered. Besides, we have other things to discuss. Be here at nine. I don’t care to repeat myself.

No, I don’t think Clause is a man that ever has to repeat himself. And why is that so damn hot?





CHAPTER 4





CLAUSE





I’m staring out the window when I finally see headlights appear at the end of my driveaway. “It’s about damn time,” I mumble to myself as I check my watch.

I pace around and wait not so patiently as I hear her get out of her car and walk up the wooden steps to the wraparound porch. Just when I hear the sound of her small knuckles on the oak door, I swing it open and scowl.

“You’re late.”

“I’m sorry, I got turned around. You know you’re literally in the middle of nowhere, right?”

I grumble a non-answer as I open the door wider and hold out my hand for her to come in.

She’s got a few bags she’s holding on to, so I take them from her while she takes off her coat. After she hands it to me, she looks around.

“Your home is beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, turning around and putting her coat on the hook while secretly smelling it. She smells like vanilla and powdered sugar. “I told you I wanted you to bake here.”

“Those are the supplies.” She nods at the bag. “I wasn’t sure what you would have on hand.”

“Oh,” I say and then carry the bag to the kitchen. “You can follow me.”

I don’t know what it is about being around Frostie that makes me even surlier and more tongue-tied than I am normally. Something about her trips me up and makes me forget my words.

“Whoa,” she says and stops in her tracks when she sees the kitchen. “Are you kidding me with this?”

“You don’t like it?” My brows furrow, and I scowl at the space, trying to figure out what’s wrong. When I designed the house, I had it done with all the bells and whistles. I’m not a great cook, but I didn’t want to have to redo it because it was missing something.

“Like it?” She shakes her head while staring in awe at the bright kitchen. “This is love, Clause.”

Hearing her say “love” and “Clause” in the same sentence does something funny to my insides, and I have to clear my throat to get it to stop.

“I want a cake,” I say as I put her bag of magical instruments down on the center worktop. “A chocolate one.”

She comes over to where I’m standing and leans all the way back to look up at me. “All right, but are you going to tell me what it is you really want?”

She straightens her back like it’s taking a lot of courage for her to speak her mind. Does she not normally say what she feels? Is someone intimidating her? I’ll have to keep a closer eye on who talks to Frostie every day.

“You saw me buy boxed cake mix, but that doesn’t mean I used it.”

I stare at her and slowly raise an eyebrow.

“Okay, but you can’t prove anything.”

“I don’t need to.” My voice is a low rumble as I take a seat at the worktop and push the bag toward her. “I know what I saw, and I know what I can get for being quiet.”