After showering and dressing, I entered the kitchen to find my mother sitting at the oversized table made of old barn wood. I kissed her cheek before taking the empty mug from in front of her to fill with some hot coffee. For as much as I didn't want to be here, I really missed Mom and mornings like this.

"She's sweet." Mom chirped behind me as I poured the coffee.

I didn't respond, but I knew she was referring to Sloan. Our houseguest was still sleeping, and I envied that. Being here made my sleeping habits that much worse. It wasn't a matter of if I was going to have a nightmare, but when? This would not be the first trip to the coffee pot today. Now I was wondering if Sloan needed coffee to function in the mornings, too. She never stuck around for me to find out.

"So, she's a chef at the restaurant?" Mom asked.

"Yeah. I thought it was time I trained someone. It's been hectic since..." I stopped, not wanting to upset her. I placed the fresh cup back in its place and took a sip of my own before taking the seat beside her. "Anyway, Mikah couldn't make canned soup if his life depended on it. I needed help."

Her frail hand moved to my wrist and gave it a squeeze. "Well, I'm glad you're learning that you can ask for help."

Her sad blue eyes were sympathetic, and I didn't have the heart to explain that it wasn't the same thing. I also couldn't bring myself to tell her that the idea of training Sloan was to get me out of Mulligan's completely. There would come a day, and sooner rather than later, that I would leave it and never return. The subject needed to change. That would just put a damper on Christmas.

"Mom..." I tightly gripped the glass. "Sloan's a widow, and I'm not sure how long it has been since her husband passed away, but I need you to not ask a bunch of questions about her life. It gets to her."

There was a lot of understanding in her expression. If anyone understood how badly it could hurt to lose your partner, my mom was the one. No need for further explanation, especially since both of us could hear Sloan leaving the spare bedroom.

When I turned in my chair, I found Sloan showered, with hair still down and wet, in jeans and the same Cubs tee I'd first seen her wear on our first day of class. She did not know how much it meant to me she came with on this trip. If I was going to waste time while here, I wanted to waste it with her.

"Morning." Sloan bit the lower lip of her smile.

I stood. "Hey."

"This kitchen is incredible, Penny." Sloan took in her surroundings with widened eyes. "It is absolutely perfect."

I had to agree. Everything I hadn't learned in the kitchen of Mulligan's was learned right here. The house had been added on to once since it was originally built. It was double the size of most kitchens, triple the size of my own. My mom wanted a space for the whole family, and she sure had it. It was a room for entertaining. Off-white cabinetry lined every wall. A double oven was housed to the right of an extra-large refrigerator that you couldn't tell was there, because it had its own cabinetry as a face. A coffee bar, its own prep station, a wine fridge, and two large farmhouse basin sinks. Then there was the table itself, built out of an old barn they'd torn down years ago. It still had everyone's initials carved into the center. That table was the star of the room. Even if it had seven miss-matched chairs surrounding it, it just added to its appeal.

"Told you she's sweet." Mom winked. "Well..." She stood, picking up her coffee to take with. "I think I'm going to head into town and do some last-minute shopping. Would you two like to go with?"

Before Sloan could say anything, I stepped between the two women.

"No," I said. "I, uh, think we will just hang out here."

Did I want to be alone with Sloan? Absolutely. That wasn't why I was stepping in, though. I knew the way my mom shopped, and also knew that Sloan could not keep up—physically, mentally, or financially. And if Sloan was going to experience town, it was going to be with me, experiencing it the right way—by tasting all the exquisite food Galena offered.

"I'll show her around your kitchen," I offered.

"That gives me an idea!" Mom's blue eyes lit up playfully. "You can start the baking!"

"The what?" Sloan and I said in unison, equally disgusted with that idea.

"The baking!" she said, repeating with more excitement the second time while moving to a desk that was built into the cabinetry. From there, she fetched a list and held it out for me to take.

"Mom..." I eyed the list. Chocolate chip cookies, snickerdoodles, sugar cookie cut-outs, peanut butter blossoms, fudge, pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, and about ten others that I knew weren't happening. "We are chefs. We do not bake."

"It's the same thing." Mom gave my back a slap. "You'll have a blast! Ingredients are all here."

She disappeared up the stairs while Sloan took in the list too. We shared a very hesitant look.

"We have to measure." I groaned. Sloan's head dropped against my shoulder as she did the same.

>>

After Mom left, we got down to business. Neither of us half-assed in the kitchen and vowed not to make this the exception. We made a little game of it, each picking a recipe and seeing who could fuck it up the least. Sloan began with the classic snickerdoodle, while I opted for the pumpkin. Just like we had done many times at Mulligan's, we soon found our groove. We danced around each other, tripped over each other, argued over who got to use the quarter measuring cup, bitched about cracking eggs and losing part of the shell, and laughed every time we'd measure incorrectly. The radio accompanied our banter, with Christmas music playing in the background.

By midday, and between two chefs, three mixers, and two ovens, the counters soon filled with holiday treats that weren't limited to cookies but also a few bars and one hell of a delicious batch of vanilla bean fudge. The sugar cookie dough was in the fridge and ready to be rolled out when the rest of the family would arrive, but I was hoping to avoid that activity. The only cookie we had to ditch from the list were the peanut butter blossoms, and that's because we'd been sneaking kisses all day—kisses of the Hershey variety, that was.

Both of us looked as though we had lost the good fight with a bag of all-purpose baking flour. I could feel it on my face, just as I could see the white powder on Sloan's. A heavy dusting of it was just beneath her right eye, appearing like she meant to put it there—like people in sports do with the black shit beneath their eyes. The sight of this beautiful woman covered in baking ingredients had my lips curling upwards while I attempted to stifle a laugh.

"You look just as ridiculous!" Sloan slapped my arm playfully.

The move caused a cloud of flour to lift from the sleeve of my shirt and form a cloud of white between us. She was right. The sight was ridiculous, especially for two chefs to have caused such a mess. Sloan's sudden laughter with our cloud of flour was intoxicating, and I laughed along with her. I couldn't remember the last time I had so much fun in the kitchen or at home, and we were baking, of all things.

"Here." I nodded at Sloan's white cheek and bit down on my lip while bringing my thumb to it to brush away the flour. As soon as my skin met hers, it was as if every nerve of my body was suddenly aware of how close she was to me—at how close she had been to me all weekend. My thumb brushed the flour away, but I couldn't bring myself to end the touch. Instead, I cupped her cheek, causing her green eyes to meet mine.

I swallowed down those insecurities that were telling me not to like Sloan, because I knew I liked her the moment I met her. Stubborn, strong-willed, a little crazy, with an excellent shopping list—she was perfect. I was pushing away all those reminding thoughts that told me she was a student, because we were past that point of no return already. There were two issues that were in my way of closing the gap between me and the girl who was constantly on my mind and challenging me in the best and worst ways. First, I didn't want to be let down again, and I feared she would be just the one to do it. Because second, she just lost her husband, and I didn't know if Sloan was even ready for whatever this had suddenly become.

"Ollie..." Sloan's voice was hesitant and pleading at the same time, mirroring my thoughts.

Her hand came to my chest, and I knew I needed to react with my gut instinct on this. I took one step forward, bringing my other hand up so that I was now cupping both sides of Sloan's jaw, and with closed eyes, dipped down to slowly brush my lips against hers.

The Hershey kisses she had been eating earlier were still sweet on her lips, and I wanted more, but only if her aftertaste accompanied it. I couldn't remember the last time a kiss had caused my stomach to float to my chest with nerves, but the feeling was so intense that I never wanted it to falter. I could feel the heat radiating from her face against my palms, and I chose to not use that as a win yet. I slowly pulled away and waited for her to say something, hoping that I didn't just fuck this up. It felt like an eternity as I waited for her reaction, even though it was only a few seconds before the dainty hand on my chest formed a fist, gripping the fabric of my shirt. My eyes fluttered open at the same time as Sloan's, and both of us smiled before carefully connecting our lips again. This time, Sloan's mouth moved with mine as she lifted herself to the tips of her toes.

Just as I began moving one arm around the small of Sloan's back, the sound of the front door opening, shopping bags rustling, and multiple sets of voices caused us to pull away from each other to make ourselves look busy. Sloan opened the oven a few inches and looked at the last batch of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, and that action immediately told me that Sloan was frazzled. She knew better than to open the oven while something still had minutes left to cook; it allowed heat out. Before I could begin overthinking, those extra voices I heard just a few moments ago became clearer, and I knew this day had just taken a turn for the worse.

"Well, look at you two!" Mom cheerfully entered the room, tossing down grocery bags and a few extra bags from Kohl's. "It smells amazing in here! Doesn't it, Shelby?"

I looked up at the blonde behind my mother, met her blue eyes only long enough to be reminded partially of the reason I hated coming home for holidays, and turned back to a confused Sloan. How could it be that I wanted to run and stay all at the same time?

"Smells great," Shelby complimented behind me.

Was Sloan mad I had kissed—really kissed—her this time? Was she not ready for it? She kissed me back. Why did everyone have to show up now? I would have loved to ask Sloan, but my brother and my ex entering the kitchen weren't about to allow for such discussion.

"You brought a guest." Mikah's judgmental eyes fell upon Sloan and then moved back to me. Sloan...? he mouthed so no one would hear.

I shrugged. I wasn't in the mood to hear my brother's lecture about dating an employee. I knew Sloan before she was one, and if he wanted to go into specifics, Mikah knew Shelby before dating her and was damn close to calling her sister-in-law.

Sloan appeared uncomfortable, obviously feeling tension in the room. She kept busying herself by dampening a cloth and gliding it over the countertops to collect the mess of dry ingredients.

"Are you going to offer introductions, Ollie?" Mom waved her hand from Sloan to Shelby.

It felt like this was a setup. This was my mother's attempt at fixing the strained relationship between her offspring, because I had brought a girl home for Christmas. Mikah and Shelby weren't supposed to show until later tonight, when they had their own Christmas. During that time, I'd planned to make Sloan and me scarce. I clutched the back of my neck, wondering how the hell I ended up here. How was I supposed to introduce her now? It was hard enough last night when we hadn't just shared a kiss. Was she to be introduced as the girl I had a one-night stand with? One who ended up being a student before I made her life a living hell for a few months, then ultimately fucked her again just after agreeing never to do that again? One I brought home for Christmas just to continue falling crazily in love with her?

My chest expanded with air, realizing that I was falling for Sloan—something I promised myself would never happen again because of the very people in front of me. I swallowed hard and glanced to Sloan again, who had finally looked up at Shelby with a hesitant smile. Apparently, Sloan had put two and two together, and she now knew that Shelby was part of the reason for a strained family relationship. I prided myself on my confidence, but I felt about two inches tall right now.

While positioning my hand on the small of Sloan's back, I kept my stare on her and only her as I attempted to collect my jumbled thoughts. "Uh..." I swallowed again. "This is my..."

Fuck. Who is Sloan to me? My mind searched for the word.

My eyes surveyed her face for an answer that she didn't have either. She was more than a damn friend, that's for sure. Having just kissed for the first time a few moments ago, girlfriend was not the word I was looking for either. She was the girl who was giving me a serious case of a fluttering stomach every time I even glanced at her after that kiss.

"I'm Sloan," she answered with a sigh, removing her glance away from mine, and causing me to feel guilty for putting her on the spot.

Sloan wiped her hands quickly on the wet towel in her hands and offered a clean hand out to Shelby. I was in my personal hell as Shelby took Sloan's hand and gave it a small shake, all the while staring at me. Shelby had zero fucking right to appear upset because I had brought a girl home to my family's Christmas. I sent a nasty glare in her direction—a warning to play nice.

"Shelby." She forced her lips to curl up for a brief second, then allowed them to fall. "I'm Mikah's..." Shelby looked back at my brother. "...girlfriend."

It had been long over a year since Shelby announced to me that she was seeing my brother. Almost two. A hard day to forget when you're standing in the visitation line for your father's wake, and the woman you're in love with joins the line to console your brother—not the man she shared half of her life with. That day they threw the word girlfriend and boyfriend around as if they were as common as the word the in their vocabulary. Today, Shelby hesitated before saying girlfriend, and all it took was for Sloan to be in the room.

"Sloan is a chef too!" Mom cheerfully added as she flew around the kitchen, opening cabinets, and putting away her groceries.

"Oh, wow." Shelby exclaimed with a tone I knew held fake enthusiasm. She was playing stupid. Shelby had now realized that Sloan was also an employee of Mulligan's. The one whose name had sent coffee flying from my mouth just a few short weeks ago. "Good for you. I know how difficult that is. Ollie's time is quite focused on it. You don't get to have much of a life."

Ouch.

"Aspiring chef," Sloan said, correcting her with an embarrassed smile. "I'm still in school."

"She is a chef." My thumb did a small circle on Sloan's back. "A good one."

Sloan's gaze lifted to mine, and that damn feeling of knots released to a fluttering sensation in my stomach once more. She didn't seem to believe what I had just said, but it was the truth. Just because she hadn't mastered the technical aspects of becoming a chef, or that she hadn't trained or studied abroad, didn't make her less of a one. She had the pallet and drive to become amazing, and I knew it was a matter of time before she would be at my level. I never had a student so driven before. I just wished she wasn't so hard on herself when I had to be hard on her.

"Let's leave this kitchen for a while," I suggested, while tuning out my family. There was a kiss that needed to be discussed, because I wanted to make damn sure she was ready before I did it again. And I definitely wanted to do it again. "We have sleds. Think you're up for it?"

Sloan's smile grew wide as she bobbed her head—a good sign in my opinion. There was a fresh dusting of Christmas snow, and the large hill in the backyard was calling our names. It had been years since I climbed my ass on a metal sled, but hell, I made cookies today; so why not go all out?

"What a great idea!" Mom chimed in. "We will meet you two out there."

We?