Prologue

PROLOGUE

Lincoln

" J ingle bells, jingle bells..."

The radio plays the jolly tune. My thumb beats against the steering wheel as I hum along.

The streets are wet as I drive down the primary road in Sugar Creek, Colorado. Christmas is in two weeks, and we're on track to have measurable snow fall. The windshield wipers of my truck beat out a rhythm as they keep up with the pellets of freezing rain that are coming down. The ground is still too cold for the precipitation to stick, but it won't be too much longer.

In the distance, a neon sign glows. Sugar and Spice Bakery. I've worked here since high school. It's where I found my love of baking. Amid what was the hardest year in my life, this place saved me. Which is why I'm purchasing it in the next few weeks.

I pull my truck into the parking lot and shut it off. This is my favorite time of the day, before everyone arrives and the rush starts.

During the year, Sugar and Spice is a normal bakery, but as soon as November 1st hits, it becomes a Christmas pop-up through the New Year. It's one change I've implemented that has made the business more profitable than it's ever been.

Beside me, a compact SUV parks in the empty space. Lyla Kringle. No lie about her last name, either. During the holidays we have her work at the front when she can to capitalize on her surname.

"Morning," she groans as she walks in front of my truck. I'm slightly surprised I can hear it over the

She isn't a morning person at all. She hates them, but as the head cake decorator, she comes in with me.

I wave back to her, grabbing everything I need for my day. She ducks under the awning and waits impatiently for me to come unlock the door. Her hands are tucked into her jacket pockets and she's hopping up and down on her feet. "Hurry, Linc. It's freezing."

"Gonna be even colder over the next few weeks. Did you see that they're calling for a storm?" I'm unlocking the door and holding it open for her so we can go inside.

She scurries over to the alarm and turns it off. "Yeah..." she sighs. "It's got a name, and any time they're named, it's never good. Why is it always so cold in here, too?" She stomps her feet.

"Because we don't want our desserts to melt."

Both of us take off our outwear and go about getting ready for the day.

"Are you going to make me go up front again?" She cuts her hazel eyes over at me.

"It?'s good for business," I argue. "I know you'd prefer to be back here decorating, but customers enjoy seeing you, and I think you like it, too."

"I do, but only for a few minutes. I'm not like you. I don't want to be named Mr. Christmas."

Heat floods my cheeks. "That was a one time thing, and no one in Sugar Creek is going to let me live it down."

"They shouldn't. You let women bid on you, and wore a speedo in the snow. I'd say that's pretty shameless, wouldn't you?"

There's no explanation for what I did other than I wanted attention for the bakery. So I don't comment. Instead, I get us focused on what we need to get ready for the morning rush. Even though Lyla is a cake decorator, she can do it all. Donuts, cupcakes, cookies, you name it, and they all turn into pieces of art when she's the one frosting it. "I'll have the donuts ready to be frosted here in a minute, and then you can start working on the cookies. I'll get the cakes prepared for this afternoon."

She nods as she watches me grab the large container we keep the donuts in overnight to cool. "Anything in particular you're looking for today? Yesterday you wanted a snowman theme."

"I was thinking of something like a vintage Christmas theme today. Golds, reds, greens, and holly. What do you think?"

There's a moment where I think she's going to tell me she doesn't like the idea, but a smile spreads across her face. "Okay, I can do that. I'm excited about this. There's a lot of potential."

I agree, and I'm happy that she's excited about it. There have been a few times where she hasn't been, and I can tell it bothers her to be the face of the bakery. "I know you think we're using you because your last name is Kringle."

"Aren't you?" She raises her eyebrows at me. "I'm a great decorator, I know that, but I also know that the people like my last name. The amount of people who come in here asking for my autograph would amaze you. I'm going to be honest..."

"Please do." I've never fully asked her where she stands on the whole situation, and maybe I should've.

"I don't appreciate it. I've worked here since I was in high school, and would come in before class. You remember that, I know you do." She says it as if she doesn't believe I do.

"I do remember, and I appreciate you staying when so many would've moved on. So many did move on. You're very talented. I could only hope to be as creative as you. Anyone can think of the ideas, but not everyone can do the execution. I can’t, which is why I need you."

Pressing her hand on the prep table and lifting her shoulder, she stares at me. "You do, which is why I'm asking you not to make me go up front anymore and sign autographs."

I wish I could meet her halfway, but it brings so many people into the shop. They come for her; they stay for the amazing desserts. "You'd be asking me to stop doing what I know is a definite traffic boosting practice."

The tension between us is thick. "You see me as someone who just brings traffic into the shop? Lincoln, it's like you don't even think of me as a person."

"I do," I insist. "But I have to think of everyone around here who gets a paycheck because of what we do here. This isn't just about you, it's about everyone."

Her hand goes on her hip. "That's fucked up."

"What's fucked up is you can't see how important we are as a team around here, Lyla."

"It's hard to see the team aspect when I'm being singled out."

Those eyes of hers are throwing sparks at me. "You're not..."

"But I am." She crosses her arms over her chest. "What would you do if I quit?"

Grinding my back teeth together, I grimace. "I'd make it work. My question is, what would you do? This is a small town. There's no other place that will hire you doing what you're doing."

"Maybe I'll open my own store."

We both know that's never going to work. This town isn't big enough for two bakeries. There's no way it can support them both. "Lyla, you're going to fail."

"Oh yeah? Bet." She turns on her heel and marches back to where we hung up our jackets and stowed our gear. Red hair is flying as she angrily shoves her arms into the material and then yanks it over her body. It takes longer than it should for her to zip and button it.

"Lyla, think about this," I encourage her.

"I don't need to. You're never going to appreciate me for what I bring to the table."

"If you need a job later, you can come to me."

"Fuck off, Lincoln..."

With those words, she slams the door and heads out to the parking lot. It sucks watching her leave, but I know I've done what's best for the business.