The Holiday Swap(36)
Soon, Jake was face-to-face with Gateau. “Is she okay?” Charlie asked, raising her voice so Jake could hear her over Bonnie’s barking.
“She’s fine,” Jake said, then Charlie heard him speaking softly to the cat, obviously keeping her calm as he reached for her. A moment later, Gateau tucked under one arm, he made his way back down the ladder, murmuring to the feline the entire time.
“I don’t blame you one bit,” Charlie heard him saying once he got closer to the ground. “Bonnie’s sweet, but not as smart as you. She didn’t mean it.” Charlie was not an animal person, not like her sister, but the sight of Jake talking so seriously to Gateau was an image she never wanted to forget.
Jake hopped off the ladder’s last rung, Gateau cradled in his arms. The little cat was purring as she snuggled into his well-muscled chest, which Charlie couldn’t help but notice through his T-shirt. He handed her Gateau, and Charlie lingered close for a moment, their hands touching. Then the cat, tired of being manhandled, let out a plaintive mew and broke the spell.
Jake reached out to scratch Gateau under the chin. “I’m sorry Bonnie chased you up a tree, girl.”
Charlie smiled down at Cass’s cat. “Thank you,” she said to Jake.
She didn’t know what else to say, but knew she didn’t want the moment to end. And with the way he was looking at her right now, as intensely as he had earlier—it was no use. Charlie had reached the point of no return. Neither of them moved, and even Gateau stayed still in Charlie’s arms. There was so much she wanted to share, but couldn’t: this whole caper with Cass was proving to be harder than she imagined, but not for the reasons she’d expected. Charlie hadn’t planned to come home and develop feelings for someone who had been a complete stranger only days before.
A wiser person would put a stop to things. Right now, before someone got hurt. But as much as Charlie knew it was wrong, it didn’t feel that way to her—it felt right.
Charlie went up on her tiptoes and kissed Jake on the cheek. His beard tickled her skin, but his cheek was soft against her lips. She stilled there, realizing she could smell the fresh, soapy scent of his skin. Then Jake’s lips brushed hers and she could think of nothing else. At some point his hands landed on Charlie’s waist, and he didn’t let go when she came down from her toes. He looked surprised by the kiss (even though he had initiated it) but not in a bad way. Her heart thumped furiously when she saw her feelings reflected back in his gaze.
Charlie cleared her throat and took a small step back. Jake’s hands dropped from her waist. He touched his lips—where hers had been only a moment before—with his thumb.
“I know you have a shift tonight, but can I make you dinner? Tomorrow night?” What was she doing? Also, she couldn’t figure out if she was more worried he’d say “yes,” or that he’d decline the offer. “As a thank-you for saving Gateau?”
Jake waited a beat before answering, then, “I’d really like that.”
“Good,” Charlie murmured, still clinging to Gateau, who was now squirming to break free. “How’s seven?”
“Seven is good,” Jake replied. “But I get to be your sous chef, okay? I’m no slouch in the kitchen. At least that’s what they tell me at the firehouse.”
“Sous chef it is.”
“Well, then. It’s a date.” Charlie liked the way Jake smiled shyly as he said it. She knew she needed to find a way to tell Jake she wasn’t Cass, but that was a problem she didn’t need to solve tonight.
9
Cass
Friday: 8 Days Until Christmas . . .
Los Angeles
As Cass spun in front of her sister’s full-length mirror, evaluating her choice of lavender sundress and denim jacket she’d found in Charlie’s closet, she knew she wasn’t as done up as Charlie would have been for a date, but she looked pretty good. And then she stopped, staring at her reflection as she realized this was her first-ever first date.
She and Brett had just drifted into becoming a couple. And sure, as they’d gotten older, they had begun to go on actual dates, but there had never been a moment like this. It was brand-new to Cass, and it made her instantly nervous.
She added a pair of buttery leather flat sandals to her outfit and confronted herself in the mirror again. Maybe it wasn’t a date. Maybe Miguel had only been trying to be friendly when he’d asked her out. He had said it was a thank-you for the tickets. Maybe that’s all it was—his way of showing his gratitude.
Cass couldn’t decide if that made her feel better—she wouldn’t be complicating Charlie’s life in an unnecessary way if it wasn’t a date—or worse. Stop overthinking this. Just get yourself to the damn restaurant.
She walked out into the mild Santa Monica night, marveling at the idea that just a few hours away her hometown was buried in snow. She took out her phone and checked reflexively for a reply from Charlie. She had managed to get through to the bakery’s landline earlier: Walter had answered and told her that “Cass” was outside dealing with the flour delivery but that he’d deliver the message that “Charlie” needed a call back. Cass had longed to ask him how things were going at the bakery—but he had sounded busy and she could hear customers in the background.