"You... you want to stay?" he asked, his lips doing all they could to restrain his smile.

"I've wanted to stay for a long time." My body trembled as he reached out and grabbed my shoulders. "I had doubts back before Mr. Myers even showed up, but it scared me, Jordan. You're right, my life has been the city. Waking up in an empty condo, going to work, then coming home to have dinner alone, it's all I've known since my grandmother died. It's... it's a terrible existence, but it's a safe one."

I looked up at him, the space between us closing.

"Jordan, I wasn't prepared for this. I have lost everyone I've ever loved, just like my grandmother before me. She did everything she could to prime me for an unforgiving world, to ready me for a life of stability when life is only uncertainties. She helped me build up my walls, and she did it because she loved me, Jordan. Please understand."

My eyes grew bleary as I pleaded with him. I couldn't make out the fine details of his expression, but the nod of his head was easy enough to spot, and I continued.

"She didn't want me hurting, not like she had. She wanted me to live a life of comfort, but it's so cold sitting in my fortress alone... What am I supposed to do? This is all I've ever known. How was I supposed to know things could be better? Then, when I got here, and I started reading Gina's journal, well, she lost everything too. Everyone she loved left her here alone, yet she didn't shut the world away. She somehow found the will to love and be vulnerable. She showed me there's another way." I paused and looked at the ground. "You know, I think my great aunt and my grandmother really weren't that different. Both of them knew loss, knew loneliness, and knew... I think regret. I think that's what's really the saddest part."

"What do you mean?"

Jordan's hands moved from my shoulders and slid down to my back, pulling me in close. I rested my cheek against his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart and the rasp of his breath.

"Georgina regretted not being there for my family when my grandfather died and I think it's understandable that my grandmother spent some years hurting, but I think she eventually regretted burning that bridge between her and Gina. It reached the point where it was only the two of them left in the family and yet they refused to embrace each other. I think my grandmother hated herself for that. I think that's why she always tried to instill a sense of polite kindness and understanding in me. She didn't want me making the same mistakes, yet here I am..."

I felt a well of resentment bubble up inside me and I pulled away from Jordan simply to give myself room to vent the steam.

"They were both just so stubborn," I said with a slight growl to my words. "Strong willed in their own ways. My grandmother incapable of forgiving Gina and then Gina unable to forgive herself. Neither of them could move on and now look where it's got us."

I threw my hands into the air and looked around the beautifully crafted and wonderfully rich dining room. The warm glow of the fire lit the impressive wainscoting and danced around the exposed beams in the ceiling. The tree in the corner twinkled and the silhouette of a festive wreath stood stark against the large picture window overlooking the expansive porch and out towards the yard. A dusting of snow coated the trees and in the light of the lampposts around the drive, I saw the flurry of dainty flakes thickening into a swirl of puffy snow.

"I'm all that's left, Jordan. My family line ends with me and this house, and I'm selling it all away because I was too afraid, too stuck in my ways."

"Stubbornness is clearly a family trait." His voice drew up behind me as I continued to watch the snow fall.

"Yay?" I sighed with a shake of my head.

"We can still put that strong will to good use." His hands landed on my shoulders and his thumbs massaged the very base of my neck. I wondered if he could feel how the hairs along my skin rose at his touch.

"How?" I muttered, trying not to get too lost in his caress.

"We just need to direct that unflinching resolve towards keeping this house. We won't give up. We'll fight back. We'll come up with a way. If you want it to happen, then we'll make it happen."

"Jordan..."

"Maybe, maybe I can find a problem big enough to scare them off." His voice then dropped, and I heard a crack of unease within it. "Maybe I could do something to the house to make them back off..."

"It won't matter," I said with a shake of my head. "Unless you plan on burning the place down, no problem will be too big for them and even then, I'm not sure they'll be that distraught over it. They plan to..."

Jordan must have felt the sudden tightening of my muscles because he released my shoulders and took a slight step away. I think I heard him mutter some sort of apology, perhaps misreading the stiffness of my body as a repulsion to his touch, but I couldn't hear him and I didn't have the mental space to consider his words. Instead, every neuron in my brain fired towards one fuzzy image taking shape inside my mind's eye. There, before me, was an answer that had been there since my phone call with Devon. I was just too distraught, too wrapped up in my emotions to see it. Now, though, with my resolve strengthened by Jordan's forgiveness, I saw it clearly. A smile teased my lips, and a laugh eased the stiffening of my muscles.

"Are you okay, Lyn?"

"I've got it!" I spun around to face him, my smile wide. "I know how we can do this." I took a few steps forward, grabbing his arms and giving them a delighted squeeze. "I have a plan, Jordan. I have a plan!"

"A plan?" asked Jordan with a bewildered shake of his head. "What is it? What can we possibly do to convince them they don't want to keep the contract?"

"We do nothing." I pulled away, and my frantic feet made tight circles in the dining room. "It's Saundra... We need to talk to Saundra!" I stopped pacing and headed straight for the foyer, only to be halted by a sudden hold of my hand.

"Wait," he said, turning me to face him, "it's Sunday night. We can't go marching into Saundra's home, and even if we could, there's no way she could do anything for us until tomorrow. Right?"

I stood in silence, my eyes studying his face, looking for a way around his point, but eventually I sighed and bowed my head. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Look, we'll go see her first thing in the morning, but for now, why don't we sit down, have dinner, and you can tell me all about this brilliant plan on yours?"

He swung his arm out to his side, presenting the table and inviting me to step forward. I looked at the candles and bottle of wine, the sudden recollection of the intimate setting burning my cheeks. I bit my bottom lip and wondered if I could handle bursting through every single wall I built up around myself in one night. Somewhere inside me, a voice long forgotten, squealed with delight and urged me forward. With giddy trepidation, I gave him a nod and followed him back to the table.

The food was lukewarm by the time we started, but the chilled bottle of wine was sweet and velvety. With each sip, I sank further into my chair and my foot brushed against his. With each accidental touch, our smiles grew. With the strength of the wine, the warmth of the fire, and the satisfaction of a hearty meal, we both felt invincible and believed fully in the plan I had concocted.

"I can't believe it," he said with a toothy grin after we both finished our dinner.

"Believe what?" I cocked a single brow and mirrored his impish smile.

"You actually read the bylaws. I wasn't sure you could read after that first night you came here."

"That's enough out of you." I tossed my cloth napkin at his face, which he caught with a victorious laugh. "I can read when I feel like it."

"And what do you feel like now?" He leaned against one of the chair's armrests, his eyes heavy-lidded with the weight of the night's revelations and spirits.

"Well, I hear there are fixings for gingerbread..."

"That there are," he said, slapping his hand onto the tabletop. "Let's get to it."

We hopped out of our chairs and left the dirty dishes where they lay as we headed into the kitchen. Inside I found a couple of bags' worth of groceries, stocked with everything we'd need for a delightful gingerbread creation. We stuck with a simple gingerbread house since my skills were a bit rusty and Jordan hadn't constructed anything other than what came in pre-made kits.

Not that it mattered.

Neither of us were paying much attention. He kept finding excuses to step past me, making sure a hand brushed my arm or my back as he did. As for me, I relished in finding tighter and tighter spaces to work in so that when he did inevitably leave his spatula or the ground ginger on the other side of the room, he'd be forced to get ever closer. When he kept messing up the cuts for the walls of the house, instead of taking the knife from him, I guided his hand, my fingers slipping into his as I did.

I was intoxicated by more than just wine. His scent mixed so pleasantly with the aromas of brown sugar, cinnamon, and ginger. The way his eyes watched me made me lightheaded. The heat of his body close to mine flushed my cheeks. We shared a few words between us as we made our way through some recipe we pulled off the internet. And I was glad for it. Should I have said more than I had, I may have revealed just how much I was trembling.

"So do we put my icing on now?" he asked as I placed the freshly baked gingerbread onto a cooling rack.

"Unfortunately no. This needs to cool first." With the cookies safely on the rack and the oven turned off, I took a deep breath and pulled my fraying, frustrated thoughts together. I needed to keep my expectations in check and simply enjoy the time I got to spend with Jordan. It'd been a long time since I had ever tried flirting with a man and I wasn't sure I even remembered what sort of signs to look for. It'd been a long day, a long week, and a long month. I knew I was caught up in the excitement of nearing the end of the race, a race I felt we could win should my plans ring true. So I breathed in slow, savoring the spicy scent rising from the cookies, and calmed my shaky nerves.

"That's too bad. I worked hard on this."

"Oh well," I said, my voice even and composed as I turned to face him, "you'll just have to..."

I found him right behind me and before I could register what he was doing, a finger reached out and left a dollop of icing on the tip of my nose.

"What are you doing?" I laughed.

"Seeing how well the icing keeps its shape." He leaned back, his hand massaging his chin as he scrutinized his work. I, feeling playful for once, struck a few poses to showcase the profile of my nose and the shape of the icing atop it. "Hmm, it's missing something. I think I should test the strength of the mixture, see how well it can hold."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I think a red one will do." He reached out to place a cherry-red candy on my nose. "It brings out the fire in your eyes and," a Cheshire cat grin curled his lips as he appraised his handiwork, "the blush in your cheeks."

"Well," I said, my voice meek as he drew attention to my faltering resolution in maintaining a friendly distance between us, "it's just the ovens and..."

He stole my words away, grabbing my shoulders and leaning down towards me. My breath caught as his lips brushed my nose and his tongue swept the icing from its tip.

"Sorry, I wanted to check its taste as well."

"And?" I asked, my voice a breathy whisper.

"I think I still have some on my lips if you'd like to try."

"S-sure." I swallowed hard as I threw reason out the door and broke past the last few walls I set around myself.

This time, when he leaned down, his lips found mine and his hands rounded my shoulders and slid down my back. My hands glided up his chest and past his throat, my fingers lacing behind his neck and pulling me further into his kiss.

No gingerbread houses were built that night.