Chapter 19

NINETEEN

S tanding back to survey her work, Briar nodded with satisfaction. The cabin had transformed from a stark bachelor’s retreat into something magical. Crimson ribbons trimmed with gold thread wrapped around the ceiling beams, enchanted to flutter gently as if caught in a warm breeze. Delicate glass ornaments filled with magical starlight cast ever-changing patterns on the walls.

“You know,” she said, turning to find Falkor watching her with an unreadable expression, “a little color wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I prefer simplicity.” But his tone lacked its usual bite.

“Simplicity doesn’t have to mean severity.” She pulled out a string of enchanted lights that twinkled like captured stars. “Think of it as... an upgrade.”

As she worked near the fireplace, Falkor absently gestured to stoke the flames. A small burst of dragon fire shot out—more than he’d intended. Briar yelped as the edge of a nearby garland caught fire, the flames racing along its length with magical speed.

“Oh crap!” She grabbed a blanket from the couch, batting at the flames while Falkor watched with poorly concealed amusement. The scent of singed magic filled the air.

“Perhaps,” he drawled, eyes dancing with mischief, “flammable decorations near an open flame weren’t the best choice.”

She shot him a look that would have withered a lesser man. “Perhaps someone should warn a girl before breathing fire in her general direction.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

The corners of his mouth had definitely quirked up. More importantly, the usual tension in his shoulders had eased slightly. Encouraged by this tiny victory, Briar pressed on. “Right! New plan. We’re baking Christmas cookies.”

“We’re what now?”

But she already headed for his kitchen, pulling ingredients from the supplies she’d brought. The kitchen, like the rest of the cabin, spoke of minimal use—everything pristine and precisely organized. “It’ll be fun. Everyone loves cookies. Even grumpy dragons.”

“I don’t bake.”

“I do.” She tied on a festive apron covered in prancing reindeer, the fabric enchanted to make the deer actually prance. “Come on, I’ll teach you my special recipe.”

Falkor approached the kitchen with the caution of someone approaching a wild animal. “Is this necessary?”

“Absolutely.” She thrust a mixing bowl into his hands. “Hold this while I measure the flour.”

She spread the ingredients across his pristine counter: flour, sugar, butter, eggs, and various magical additions that would make the cookies sparkle and sing when baked properly. The kitchen filled with the scent of vanilla and potential.

“Okay, so first we cream the butter and sugar together,” she instructed, wielding a wooden spoon like a wand. “It’s all about the technique.”

Falkor watched her with barely concealed amusement. “And you’ve done this before?”

“Many times. A few times. Well...” She scrunched her nose. “I’ve watched it being done.”

His low chuckle sent warmth spreading through her chest. “Perhaps we should have started with something simpler.”

“Nonsense! How hard can it be?” She began mixing with enthusiasm, sending a cloud of flour into the air. It settled on her hair like snow, making Falkor’s eyes crinkle at the corners.

“You’ve got a little...” He gestured to her face.

“Where?” She wiped her cheek, probably making it worse.

Without thinking, Falkor stepped closer. His thumb brushed her cheek, gentle despite his strength, wiping away the flour. Time seemed to stop for a moment as their eyes met. His hand lingered, warm against her skin, and her breath caught in her throat.

The moment broke when something in the bowl started smoking.

“Oh gods,” she sputtered, turning back to their creation. She tasted the dough and immediately grimaced. “That’s... that’s not right at all.”

Falkor dipped a finger in the bowl and tasted it, his eyes widening. “That’s certainly... unique.”

Briar grabbed the container she’d used for sugar and groaned. “Salt. I used salt instead of sugar.” She dropped her head onto the counter with a thud. “I’m usually better at this, I swear.”