~~~~~*~~~~~

Maggie knew that he wouldn’t turn up the next day, or likely the day after, but that didn’t stop her from glancing at the door every time the shopkeeper’s bell rang. She knew that it was silly, not to mention pointless, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Just the thought of seeing Blue Eyes again filled her stomach with butterflies, and although she knew that it was incredibly unlikely that he would show up, she couldn’t stop hoping.

As promised, Gem dropped Max off a little after three in the afternoon, which gave Maggie plenty of time to plan an activity to keep him amused while she worked. He was usually easy to keep entertained at the bakery; some cutters and a ball of bread dough to make shapes with usually held his attention for hours. Or, failing that, he was old enough to help stir the cake batters and decorate the cupcakes. Occasionally she’d let him sit on the counter in the store front and chat to the customers, but Maggie preferred to keep him busy in the kitchen.

Today, she thought she’d let him play with the dough and cutters, which had been her dad’s go to activity when he’d been responsible for watching her as a small child. With any luck it’d keep him amused for most of the afternoon so she could catch up on the pie orders she was getting behind on. The demand for pies seemed to tenfold in the run up to Christmas, and Maggie knew if she hadn’t caught up by the end of the day she’d definitely lose track of the orders.

Her intention was to keep Max amused long enough for her to finish and still have time to spare. Or at least that was the plan.

~~~~~*~~~~~

“I’m boooored…” Max whined as he kicked his heels against the metal legs of the stool he was sitting on. He was too short to reach the counter tops without it, and Maggie didn’t have time to keep rushing back and forth to assist him in reaching for things that were out of his grasp.

“I’m kinda busy here, Max,” Maggie said from where she stood in front of the stove, stirring a pan of molten cherry pie filling. It smelt amazing and was steadily bubbling away as it cooked. “Keep playing with your dough a little longer, ‘kay buddy?”

“I can’t,” Max complained.

Maggie couldn’t risk leaving the stove for a minute to tend to him. One second too long on the heat and the pie filling would take on the consistency of a thick jam. Not very appetizing and certainly not what her customers would be expecting.

“Why not, Maxey?” she asked putting on her most patient voice although she was feeling anything but. She continued stirring the mixture so it didn’t stick to the sides of the pan. Maggie had been making pies for long enough that she no longer needed to use a thermometer to tell her when the filling was cooked. She could feel by hand when it was ready by the way the texture changed and the juice solidified on the spoon.

“I’ve eaten it all…” Max said in a small voice.

“You’re not supposed to eat raw bread dough, you donut,” Maggie said through gritted teeth as she pulled the heavy pan off the heat, and not a moment too soon. She set it aside out of harm’s way to cool and turned the flame off on the hob. Taking a deep, calming breath she headed over to her nephew to confirm that he had, in fact, consumed a whole ball of dough.

“You’re going to be sorry for that later,” she told him as she rustled his hair. “You’re gonna have one hell of a stomach ache.”

“I want to make cookies!” Max said, the dimples in his round cheeks showing as he stared up at her eagerly, completely disregarding her solemn warning. At the glint in his eye, Maggie wondered whether he hadn’t eaten the dough deliberately so she’d have to find him something else to do.

“What kind of cookies?” Maggie asked, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall besides the large fridge-freezer. There’d be time to make a few batches of cookies only if a mad rush of customers didn’t arrive before closing time as they’d done all week so far.

“Gingerbread!” Max cried enthusiastically. “Can we?”

Maggie let out a sigh and pretended to need time think about it. “As long as you promise not to eat any more dough,” she said. “I’ll be in trouble with your mom if you’re sick tonight. You know she doesn’t like you eating too many sweet things.”

Which is ironic, considering our family has made its money for generations selling sweet goods, Maggie thought with a wry smile.

“I promise,” Max said, flashing her a winning smile. “Promise, promise, promise!”

~~~~~*~~~~~

Maggie was up to her elbows in gingerbread dough–literally–when she heard the shopkeeper’sbell ring, and even Max's head snapped to attention at the sound. It'd been so long since anyone had entered the shop they'd both almost forgotten that the bakery was still open for business.

It was a wake-up call for Maggie, who’d become way too absorbed in the activity that had been meant for her nephew.

"Customer," Max said in a loud whisper as he stared down at his congealed hands. They were covered in the sticky brown mixture which Maggie realized at once would take several washes before it came off.

"Sounds like it," Maggie said, skipping over to the oven to check that the batches baking wouldn't be ruined by being left alone for several more minutes. She ran her hands under the faucet until they were respectably clean and dried them briskly on her batter smattered apron. Even though she'd been doing it for years, she still got nervous when she had to serve a customer by herself.

"You stay here, okay? I'll be right back. Don’t go near the stove."

"Ok," Max replied absently, his attention occupied by his sticky hands. He seemed to be trying to permanently glue his hands together with the mixture, and each time he pulled them apart he seemed genuinely surprised to find he could.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then.”

Maggie ran her hands once again down her apron and headed off to the front of the store, almost tripping over her feet in her haste. She took a few minutes to spot the customer from where they were crouched in front of the chilled cabinet, and in that time Maggie almost decided that whoever had entered the bakery had left before she'd arrived.

However, at hearing the sound of her footsteps, the customer rose and flashed a kilowatt smile at her from underneath the familiar beanie that was pulled low over his brow.

“Hello again.”

Maggie froze, and in that moment it seemed as though her heart exploded in her chest. She was practically breathless at the surprise of seeing him once again, and she completely forgot all about the five year old she’d left unaccompanied in the kitchen.

He was wearing the same thick, black duffel coat as before with the collar pulled up close to his ears, and by the way his shoulders were hunched and he seemed to be hopping from foot to foot she could sense he still wasn’t accustomed to the almost arctic conditions outside.

“Hi,” Maggie replied, a little too late for it to not sound awkward. If Blue Eyes noticed he didn’t let on, and if anything his grin seemed to grow wider at the slight nervous wobble in her voice.

I must look like a flushed, grinning idiot, Maggie thought as she once again ran her hands nervously down the front of her apron. They were damp for an entirely different reason now. Calm down, she repeated to herself over and over as she stared at him with wide eyes.

“Your gingerbread should come with a health warning, you know,” Blue Eyes said as he took a step closer to the counter. Maggie stared at him with a horrified expression plastered across her face, unsure whether he was joking. Was he about to complain? Could she handle it if he did? And yet his eyes were so warm and his smile so genuine she found it hard to believe. People who were about to complain didn’t usually look at her like that.

In fact, hardly anyone usually looked at her like that…

“Oh, really?” she answered weakly before attempting a relaxed smile that came across as more of a grimace. She placed her hands in front of her on the counter and hoped Blue Eyes wouldn’t notice they’d begun to shake. It was crazy the effect he had on her; she knew nothing about him, and had only met him twice, and yet her whole body seemed to go into shock whenever he was around.

“Yeah, I couldn’t stop thinking about it up on that mountain,” he said.

Ah, Maggie thought. So he’s staying at the ski resort.

“Had to come back and get me some more,” Blue Eyes said as he tilted his head to the side and grinned at her in a way that made her insides ache. “You have more, right?”

“Here’s some,” a little voice said, but Maggie’s attention was so caught up in the handsome stranger’s face it took a few minutes for her to understand that Max had left the kitchen and was heading towards Blue Eyes with a plate of very homemade looking gingerbread they’d both just finished icing. It wasn’t that they were inedible per say, but they were well below the standard usually sold at the Little Bakery.

“Max, no!” Maggie shouted when she realized what was happening, but before she knew it, it was already too late. Blue Eyes was mid chew of one of the garishly colored cookies whilst Max looked on in obvious delight.

At the sound of her cry, Blue Eyes turned to Maggie with an expression of horror on his face and froze mid chew. “How bad is it?” he asked in a muffled voice, his cheeks billowing out in an effort to be polite and keep the cookie crumbs from splattering all over the counter top.

“Huh?”

“The cookies,” Blue Eyes muttered as he raised a hand to point to his mouth. “What’s wrong with them? Did he sneeze in the mixture or something?”

“Oh, no,” Maggie said before letting out an audible sigh of relief. “It’s nothing like that. It’s just those weren’t really meant for the customers, right, Max?” She fixed her nephew with a look he’d learned to mind over the years and in response his head bowed and his shoulders sagged.

“Why don’t you get…,” she had to stop herself before the words ‘Blue Eyes’ slipped out of her mouth, “the customer a glass of water from the kitchen?” she suggested, hoping that he wasn’t feeling too upset and embarrassed about being told off. Max gave her a weak smile and quickly headed back to the kitchen without another word.

“He’s quite something, your son,” Blue Eyes said as he watched Max leave.

“He’s not my son,” Maggie said quickly–maybe a little too quickly– before blushing profusely at the suggestion. She dipped her head in the way she always did when she felt embarrassed and avoided his eyes. “He’s my nephew, actually.”

“Oh, right,” Blue eyes said, smiling at the way her cheeks flushed and she avoided meeting his gaze. “Your nephew,” he repeated. “Maybe it’s just me but isn’t he a little young—“

“To be working here?” Maggie finished for him before letting out a snort of amusement. When you were raised in a family that ran its own business there was no such thing as too young to work. Maggie knew this better than anyone–she’d been helping out since she was a toddler. “It’s a family business,” she explained, “but I watch him ‘cause my sister works long hours. He comes here so she doesn’t have to pay for a sitter.”

“That’s kind of a relief I must say,” Blue Eyes chuckled. “So no child labor in Silverwood?”

“Not in this bakery,” Maggie said with a smile.

“So what’s your role in the family business?” he asked, although he really needn’t have bothered. She was covered almost head to toe in flour and confectioner’s sugar after all, thanks in no small part to Max.

Maggie blushed. His questions seemed a little more personal than she was used to. Usually all people wanted to know was whether she had any gluten free bread to sell, or whether the white chocolate brownies had fewer calories than the milk chocolate variety. She wasn’t used to answering questions about herself. “I do the baking,” she said, brushing vigorously at an obvious flour stain on her sleeve. “Well some of it at least.”

“So you made most of the stuff here?” Blue Eyes asked, glancing around at the displays of breads and pastries on the shelves around the store.

“Kind of,” Maggie said shyly. “My dad makes the breads, but I make the pastries and the sweet goods.”

“Here’s your water,” Max said as he returned from the kitchen. He held the glass up for Blue Eyes to take, but instead of drinking, he winked at Max and placed the glass onto the counter top. Bending down so he was at Max’s eye level, Blue Eyes grinned and said, “So you’ve been making gingerbread cookies? That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah,” Max said, his face brightening, “Maggie let me make them all by myself.”

“Maggie,” Blue Eyes repeated, turning his head to meet Maggie’s eyes. He straightened and took a step towards the counter so he could hold out a hand for her to shake. “Hi Maggie, I’m Justin.”

Maggie stared at his hand for a moment, unsure whether it was wise for her to take. One touch and she might turn to a pool of jelly at his feet. She almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. She’d become so accustomed to thinking of him as ‘Blue Eyes’ it seemed almost strange to hear that he had a real name.

She shook his palm briefly and then quickly stuffed her hand back into the wide pocket on the front of her apron, pretending she hadn’t enjoyed the feel of his warm skin against hers as much as she had. Justin continued to watch her for a moment before continuing his conversation with Max. “And you’re Max, right?”

“Yup.”

“I know I’m probably going out on a limb here, but do you think you could show me how you make the gingerbread?” Blue Eyes asked, and although he was speaking to Max, Maggie had a feeling the question was actually directed at her.

“Customers aren’t allowed in the kitchen,” Max said hesitantly, repeating the number one rule he’d heard Maggie’s dad say a million times. It was the rule they’d all sworn never to break, but Maggie’s resolve was already crumbling. She had a terrible feeling that the more she got to know this stranger, the harder she’d find it to deny him anything.

Max looked at her eagerly, his dimples showing once again, and Maggie could tell from that look alone he wanted to break the rules as much as she did. “I guess if you won’t tell anyone,” she said, looking directly at her nephew.

And she meant it.

She’d be in heaps of trouble if this ever got back to the family, but unlike Austin–who she suspected would enjoy spilling the beans for his own entertainment. He was just that kind of kid–she knew that Max would do his best to keep it a secret. “Cross your heart?”

Justin and Max grinned at her with matching mischievous grins and Maggie realized that she was already in tons of trouble. But this kind of trouble had nothing to do with breaking her father’s rules, and all about breaking her own.

~~~~~*~~~~~