A Flour Dusted Romace

      “Oh, Baby all I want for Christmas is you.” 

      The cheerful Christmas song blasted throughout the small shop, matching the elegant yet cozy holiday decor. It may have been small, but the bakery was warm and comfortable, despite the heavily falling powder outside. It wasn’t as if the old building was draft proof, but the seemingly ever-on ovens and busy bodies provided more than enough warmth for them all. 

      Kyra repressed a sigh, brushing a delicate strand of silver tinsel from where it sat on her shoulder. The headache that had been pounding in her head since dawn was still going strong, and that wasn’t even mentioning the dizziness every time the woman as much as swiveled her head too sharply. Even so, all of the stress and strife would be worth it. It was every day that made it worth it, but the holidays made it especially rewarding. 

      She lightly pinched the upper bridge of her nose, taking care to mind her nails. Heaven forbid she accidentally poked an eye out with the long, almond-shaped, dark-wine colored nails. Her coworkers always marveled at the fact that she managed to own a bakery and somehow keep them in good condition. 

      At the thought of her coworkers, a faint smile slipped onto her lips. They were truly something else. Even in her most exhausted of times, it was impossible for them to not bring a smile to her lips. They worked just as tirelessly as her, and had, over time, become family. Kyra was single and perfectly fine with not mingling, though that didn’t seem to make much of a difference to Jadiah, head pastry chef. 

      Petite she may be, Jadiah made up for her size in personality. Somehow the tiniest people ended up being the most spirited, and Jad was no exception. She was fierce, energetic, and a workaholic; Jad had managed to not only be hired right away, but become one of her closest confidants. 

      Though, it was difficult to say which of her coworkers she was closest to, as by now, they were essentially the brothers, sisters, cousins, and other family she never had. Speaking of Jad, the small woman bounded up to Kyra, decked out in a bright red Christmas sweater depicting some gingerbread joke, ripped black jeans, and fur-trimmed snow boots. 

      “Ah, just the boss I was looking for.” Jad grinned, always busy hands reaching up to tuck a few loose strands back into her messy bun, artfully leaving a few pieces to frame her face. Kyra watched with exhausted amusement as the other woman tilted her head and dropped the smile, concern deepening her brows. 

      “Again? Kyra, I thought you said it was better.” 

      Jad hooked her own elbow with Kyra’s and led her to the small sitting area, gently pushing her down onto one of the high-backed chairs. 

      “It was. I think it’s just the stress of the holiday season, like always,” she stated firmly. But she and Jad both knew that she wasn’t convincing anyone, really only attempting to comfort herself. “Regardless, it doesn’t matter. I have cookies and cakes to attend to, there’s no time to be lazing around.” Even to her own ears, the excuse sounded feeble at best.

      Jad shook her head, “Kyra, Benji has it. Jeez, stop and rest for a second, boss. You’ve been on your feet nonstop, and we all know how bad your migraines get, especially during the winter season.” 

      Kyra glanced over at the young man in the back, black and white hair carefully mussed, rising his floury hands off in the sink. He must have seen something in her eyes because he hurried over, drying his hands on the black apron secured around his neck that was embroidered with their logo. Two white hands, one above and one below, a cake ‘levitating’ in the middle. 

      The man raised an eyebrow, placing the back of his pale hand on her forehead, making some noncommittal noise after removing it. “At least you don’t have a fever this time.” 

      Benji shook his head disapprovingly, clicking his tongue softly, “Seriously Ky, we’re capable of handling things around here. You look gorgeous, as always, but you move like you haven’t slept in a week. Which, knowing you, you probably haven’t.” 

      Kyra watched as Jad smirked, clearly enjoying the fact that Benji agreed with her, not even bothering to repress the natural eye roll. “Fine. I’ll try and sleep before midnight tonight.” Without bothering to look at their expressions, Kyra stood up, ignoring the wave of dizziness and nausea that washed over her. Vomiting would be inconvenient, to say the least. She swallowed everything down, including the urge to just sit down and cry, running a hand through the thick black waves that had fallen out of their hap-hazard elastic trap. 

      Really, Kyra was the only one who knew the dire importance of being successful this Holiday season; the neighbor bakery was thriving and stealing much of their business. Her rival was owned by a wealthy man, Marcó. Kyra couldn’t deny that he was an excellent businessman, and was incredibly skilled at hooking his audience. His goods, though slightly overpriced, were well worth the money. As much as she hated to admit it, she and the man had quite a bit in common. 

      She walked over to where the pantry was, thoroughly washing her hands before pulling out the box of flour and setting it on the counter. Which was, conveniently, empty. Perfect. It really added the delicate cherry on top of her day. She stole another glance towards the window, not able to see much other than the thickly-falling snow, lit by the outdoor lights. It was late, she guessed after ten, but she still needed to prepare another few batches of cookies. Which, of course, couldn’t happen without flour. There was no way to drive somewhere with the undoubtedly icy roads and the terrible visibility that came with blowing snow at night. Which really, only left one option. Marcó. The last person she wanted to see.

      “Benji, please keep an eye on everyone,” she stated, knowing with no doubt that he was more than capable of running the shop. 

      “Of course,” he responded.

      “Jad, I need you to make a few phone calls and see where we are on the orders for Christmas, which is, in fact, in less than forty eight hours. Zerlina, Zephyr, keep on doing your tasks, we need everything organized, packed, and ready to go. Eliza, you know what you’re supposed to do. Understood?” All resounding yeses and confirmations sounded and she nodded sharply, pulling a soft white knit hat over her hair. “I’m heading over to Marcó’s. We have no flour, and he’s our last option.” The looks of sympathy and shock were somehow comforting to her; they all knew that she wouldn’t ask the rival bakery for anything unless it was dire. 

  Jad chucked Kyra’s coat at her, giving her a gentle grin. “Be careful, Boss. If you’re not back in fifteen minutes, we’re coming to get you.”

      Kyra nodded gratefully, sending a warm smile at the other woman, before squaring her shoulders to prepare for the outdoors.

—

       Kyra stepped into the bitter cold, shivering as a violent gust of wind all but shoved her off of the sidewalk. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if attempting to hold in the warmth of the shop. The same warmth that she now mourned was stripped in an instant. The snow cut at any visible bits of skin, rubbing it until it was raw. She rapped sharply at his door, unable to keep her teeth from chattering. The cold wore down to her bones, chilling her deep inside.  It was a type of frigid that froze her soul in addition to her body, and one that would cause frostbite in less than ten minutes. She grit her teeth and knocked again, unable to keep cold-drawn tears from sliding down her cheeks. 

      After what seemed like an eternity, she watched with lidded eyes as the door was finally opened and a tall man dressed in a black turtleneck and black slacks stepped up. “Kyra?” He questioned over the whistling wind, shaking his head in disbelief. “Come in.” She shuffled inside, the shivers that wracked her body violent enough to catch his notice. 

      “Good lord, Kyra. I presume there was a reason that you risked frostbite to wait outside my bakery?” He raised an eyebrow in a very Benji-like fashion, clearly not impressed. 

      Something that confused her, however, was the slight hint of worry in his deep voice. She couldn’t fathom why, but was quickly distracted by the blast of warmth his fireplace offered. Kyra closed her eyes in a few seconds of heavenly bliss before opening them to the faintly amused ice-blue of his eyes. “I-I’m so sorry,” she offered with a pained smile, her teeth still chattering. “I know t-that  you’re just as busy as we are this season, b-but we have run out of flour. Obviously we c-can’t get any tonight, but we still have a few batches to finish, as I’m sure y-you understand.” The man nodded, offering a sympathetic grimace. 

      “Cameron, grab a blanket from the back,” Marcó called, turning his attention back on Kyra. “How much?”

      Whatever the woman had expected him to say, it certainly wasn’t that. “Nine cups a-at the very most.” Marcó sharply nodded, only adding to her disbelief. Of course, she was still too cold to fully comprehend, but some part of her mind betrayed her, noting how good he looked. Which, of course, had to be due to the cold. There was no possible way that Kyra would be attracted to her rival, of course not.

      A violently red-haired younger man returned with a blanket, of which Marcó grabbed and murmured his thanks. Instead of just giving it to her, the man carefully wrapped it around her himself, the delicacy of his movements surprising her. Without realizing it, Kyra stilled, Marcó close enough to where she could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of his neck. The warmth of his hand on her shoulder somehow sunk through the multiple layers of fabric, becoming something entirely more difficult to ignore. 

      “Your flour is by the door,” he murmured.

      The words were so quiet she almost didn’t catch them. Yet somehow, she didn’t want to leave the warmth. The toasty coziness of his bakery, the familiar sounds of cookies being baked, the dim and comfortable lighting. And least of all, the unfamiliar and careful, yet somehow wonderfully comforting, intimacy. He smelled like peppermint and something wonderfully warm and spicy, like fresh ginger snaps, she noted. Kyra silently inhaled before turning around to face him, less than a half a foot away from his pale face. It was a stark but beautiful contrast from her own darkly tanned skin. 

      With a small but genuine smile brightening up her face, Kyra softly said, “Thank you, for everything. I’m most grateful. I won’t be out of your sight until after tomorrow night’s holiday festival, however. A pity, I know.” She couldn’t help but slip into her habitual sarcasm, but from the way the edges of his mouth quirked upwards, she guessed he didn’t mind.

      “A pity? Hardly. But, wherever you see the breathtakingly beautiful cookies, you should know I won’t be far.”

      As they walked to the door, he briefly paused and curled his hand around the doorknob. “Goodnight, Kyra. And for heaven’s sake, stay safe, please. Who else would I compete with?” 

      With that last semi-playful jab, Kyra looked back from outside his doorway, flour in hand, snow once again coating her body. “Please, you and I both know that there is no competition,” she called, throwing up a cheesy grin. One that she was startled to see mirrored on his face. 

—

      Kyra woke up to an obnoxious crick in her neck and beams of cold sunlight shining in her eyes. She slowly sat up and gazed around her, remembering the events of last night. After she had gotten back, she could tell that her coworkers wanted to pester her, but after making the last few batches of cookies, as promised, they were all incredibly exhausted. Neither of them was awake enough nor were the roads dry enough to drive, so they all crashed in the tiny sitting area. 

      Each of their sleeping forms moved gently between breaths, something about the scene making her heart filled with joy and pride. This was her family; people who were willing to work until midnight and then fall asleep on a cramped cushion or carpeted hardwood floor. She slowly stood up and stretched, raising her arms above her in a feline-like manner to attempt to loosen the crick, careful not to wake them. 

      She and Jad had fallen asleep on the tiny couch, the petite woman somehow managing to curl into a ball and still stay on her side of the couch. Benji was asleep in the chair across from her, his chin ducked to his chest, long legs splayed out in front of him. The twins had somehow fallen asleep on the floor, their limbs carelessly splayed over each other in a way that only siblings could manage to and not kill each other. Even though they constantly denied it and forever bickered, she knew they wouldn’t be able to exist without one another. Eliza was leaning up against the back of Benji’s chair, her knees drawn up under her chin. 

      With one last look at the sleeping adults, she looked out the frost covered window, pleased to see the roads cleared. Throughout the storm it looked like it had snowed a little more than a foot, white specks still lazily drifting down from the cloudy sky. There was nothing like the morning after a heavy snow, where each surface was covered in the fluffy powder, looking like it was straight out of a fairytale. 

      It was then that Kyra remembered that it was the holiday festival… which meant meeting Marcó. The once-despised name now brought a feeling of warmth and excitement, both things that the woman was both afraid and disturbed to find. To her, it was crazy how one night could change everything in just a few minutes. All she had to show for it, however, was sounding like a hallmark movie. She heard everyone slowly getting up in the back, startling slightly when she heard a quiet voice to the right.

       “I know that face, Ky. I also know that you haven’t looked like that in a long time.”

      She tilted her head, catching sight of Benji, his normally styled black and white hair tousled with sleep. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she answered back, attempting to make it sound like that wasn’t a complete lie. In fact, she knew exactly what he was talking about.

      “Someone has caught your eye, and we all know who. Ky, Marcó might not be our favorite person, but if you want to date, then we all stand one hundred percent behind you, without a doubt.” 

       The cheeky but proud smile on his face was enough for her to know that he was genuinely serious. She turned around, hoping to cool the slight blush on her naturally tanned skin, but instead, came face-to-face with the rest of her team. “It’s true, Boss,” she heard Jad say, looking at the rest of the tired but cheerful and honest faces of her coworkers. 

      “Then what are we waiting for?”

—

      Kyra inhaled deeply, exhaling in a breath of white. They had made it to the holiday season, finally. Though this was always the best part, the holiday festival. The tree lighting, the holiday cheer, the warm wassail and baked goods. The bazaar was decorated in strands of lights, fire pits circled in the middle. Ahead of the circle of shops was the massive unlit Christmas tree, decorated with more strands of lights than she could possibly count. Her bare hands were wrapped around a mug of steaming wassail, the heavenly spices wafting deliciously up her nose. 

      Dressed in ripped black skinny jeans, an oversized cream-colored sweater, and a structured brown trench-coat lying on her shoulders, Kyra was warm and snug. Her black snow boots only went up to her ankle, but the waterproof material was of great relief. Benji, while twisting her black hair up into a carefully messy bun, had promised her that she looked gorgeous. Which, coming from the fashion student, was a relief. 

       She wandered aimlessly around, keeping an eye out for Marcó. He seemed to be doing the same thing, judging from the impact they made when they crashed. She felt herself be shoved to the ground, but caught by a hand seconds before the impact. It was significantly less romantic than the Hallmark movies, but his hand in her own somehow felt right. Kyra never imagined that she would become one of those sappy romantics, but here she was. “Marcó, good to see you,” she managed to say, glancing up confidently into the beautiful blue of his. They seemed to laugh at her, amusement drawing a deep bark of laughter from his chest.

      “Kyra, it’s good to see that you haven’t frozen yet.”

      “No need to sound so disappointed,” she shot back, refraining from noting how close they were.

      “I would be disappointed if you had frozen,” he whispered, pulling her close enough to where she felt his warm breath on her cheek. “I wouldn’t have been able to do this.”

      Before she could ask what ‘this’ entailed, he gently cupped the side of her face, pulling her chin up to meet him. 

      Kyra was done waiting. She gently pressed her lips to his, sinking into his comforting embrace. She felt the softness of his lips kiss back before separating. It was neither long, nor did it send sparks, but it wasn’t any less special. Instead, it felt like coming home.