Tackling Molasses Crinkles Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Laura Freeman

  Tackling Molasses Crinkles

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Molasses Crinkles

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing

  Also available from The Wild Rose Press

  A shadowy figure was climbing onto the bottom step of the deck. He didn’t give the thief time to go any farther. He grabbed the back of his coat and pulled him from his perch, tackling him to the ground. Something in his hands flew into the air as he forced the porch pirate to the ground. “Gotcha!”

  Nick heard the whoosh as air escaped from crushed lungs. He’d experienced the wind being knocked out of him countless times. It was part of the game of football. His job as a professional defensive end was to sack the quarterback before he could throw the football. He enjoyed hearing the air escape as he knocked the surprised opponent to the ground with all of his two-hundred-and-twenty pounds of hard muscle.

  He lifted his full weight from the gift raider. It wasn’t a quarterback. It wasn’t even a man. He’d tackled a young woman. Her eyes were as big as the moon above and filled with shock and fear. She opened her mouth, but no words escaped. She gasped for air.

  “Can’t breathe!” she managed to whisper between attempts to fill her lungs.

  “I’ve had the wind knocked out of me plenty of times,” he reassured her. “Take little breaths.”

  Tears filled her eyes instead. What had he done? He offered to help her to her feet, but she batted at his hands with snow-covered gloves. She turned her back and searched the snow until she uncovered a battered container topped with a torn and flattened red bow.

  Praise for Laura Freeman

  Laura has written six books in the Impending Love historical romance series published by The Wild Rose Press.

  IMPENDING LOVE AND WAR:

  “With a realistic sequence on a canal boat, great humor as Cory explains courtship to the dunderhead Douglas, and Tyler’s ingenious argument in the ending courtroom scene, this spicy story hits every note.”

  ~Akron Beacon Journal

  IMPENDING LOVE AND DEATH:

  “I thoroughly enjoyed this book. Clever banter, strong characters, and a great detail to history pulled me in. I couldn’t put the book down. Jem was smart and spunky, and easily held her own besides Logan, who was charming and captivating. A perfect match.”

  ~Devon McKay

  Tackling Molasses Crinkles

  by

  Laura Freeman

  Christmas Cookies

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Tackling Molasses Crinkles

  COPYRIGHT © 2021 by Laura Freeman

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Edition, 2021

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-3856-9

  Christmas Cookies

  Published in the United States of America

  Chapter One

  The spicy fragrance of cloves, cinnamon, and ginger mixed with molasses filled the kitchen in a warm cloud of exotic scents as Crystal carefully removed the freshly baked cookies from the oven.

  The heat steamed the windows, but outside large, icy flakes cascaded down in a steady wave and piled up in a thick, white blanket of snow. The meteorologist had predicted six inches, and those wishing for a white Christmas had been granted one.

  The aroma of freshly baked cookies and the gentle snowfall made the holidays a little more bearable. Crystal’s parents had booked a cruise, and she was home alone. They had invited her to join them, but she had started a new job and didn’t have enough vacation time saved up to leave work for two weeks. She had been lucky to leave the office early. It was Christmas Eve, but her boss had wanted her end-of-year reports completed. He must not have read A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens and had no problem imitating Scrooge.

  The job was temporary, hopefully. She had recently graduated from college but was so far in debt she had accepted the first job available. Her parents had offered to forgo the cruise and help her pay down some of the loans, but they had helped enough, and she wanted to take responsibility for her own life. They deserved the reward of a vacation and second honeymoon. She didn’t begrudge them the time alone. Having a grown daughter living with them had to be difficult. But college debt made it impracticable to pay rent on an apartment barely bigger than the bedroom she occupied now. Someday she’d reward herself with a trip and take them along to thank them for all their unselfish support.

  She rolled the dough into walnut-sized balls, dipped them in red-and-white decorative sugar, and placed them on the cookie sheet. She set the timer for ten minutes and washed her hands. The dishes could wait. She had too much else to do. She had assembled the tree, but the bare artificial limbs needed decorations added. She had almost left the tree in the box in the basement, except the house was lonely without her parents. Baking cookies and decorating the rooms made the holidays friendlier.

  Did they miss her as much as she missed them? Dad would talk sports and update her on the news. Her mother would share the latest book she had read or invite her along on a shopping trip. She hadn’t found anyone special enough to abandon her family and start life as a couple. Was she going to remain at home and become a spinster? It wasn’t such an awful idea in the twenty-first century. Lots of people were choosing to remain single. But she had always wanted a connection like her parents. They were best friends in love. They laughed and cried together and had shared their lives with her. She wanted to discover the same kind of relationship.

  For now, she would share some holiday spirit with her neighbors. She gathered her gift tins to pack. She had baked three types of cookies and knew the favorite of each family on her list. She’d wait until Christmas Day to deliver most of the containers, but tonight, she planned a special trip to visit Angela Winters.

  Angela had been a surrogate grandmother to all the children in the neighborhood when Crystal was growing up, and they called her Nana. She’d served cookies on flowered plates and milk in delicate tea cups on the front porch like they were old friends enjoying an afternoon party. They both loved molasses crinkles, and Crystal’s mother had taught her how to make them in her first cooking lesson. She had taken two dozen to share with her classmates for her seventh birthday. Born in December, she had looked forward to sharing the cookies before holiday break. Fifteen years had passed since that memory, but it was fresh in her mind. It had been the best day and the worst day of her life.

  She lined the tin with wax paper and arranged the freshly baked cookies inside. She removed the last tray of cookies, placed them on the cooling rack, and checked the oven. It was off. She grabbed a warm molasses crinkles cookie from the last batch and bit into the soft treat. She savored the steamy sweetness and assortment of spicy scents with pure delight, and fond memories of being loved flooded her senses. She could smell her mother’s perfume and hear her father’s deep voice as if they were in the room sharing the moment.

  All she needed was a glass of warm milk. Not now. It was already dark outside. Days were short in December, and she had promised Angela she would visit tonight. She had been insistent she call on Christmas Eve, and no one said no to Nana. She looked at the plain Christmas tree and shrugged. She would finish it when she returned home. She put the lid on the tin for Angela and added a big red bow.

  Crystal put on her boots, tailored wool coat, colorful scarf, and gloves. With her long, thick hair, she didn’t need a hat. She tucked the tin in the crook of her arm, made sure the keys to the house were in her pocket, and opened the door. A gust of chilling air blasted her face, and she was tempted to retreat, but it would be selfish to stay home and leave Nana alone. She bent her head down and sank into the snow-covered steps. The shovel was in the garage. She didn’t know how to operate the snow blower, so she’d have to clear a path by hand. But that could wait until tomorrow. She had too many other priorities on her growing to-do list.

  Angela lived three houses down the street, and Crystal had no problem walking the short distance, but it had rained before snowing, and the sidewalk was slick. She did a mini skating show when her boots hit a patch of ice, and she danced around with the tin waving perilously in the air before she found her footing. She took a moment to slow her breathing and stepped into Angela’s yard.

  The lights were on inside and the drapes wide open to give her a panoramic view of the familiar interior. The furniture was worn but comfortable, and the bookshelves overflowed with well-read books and a collection of memorabilia.
Angela’s husband had died long ago, and she lived alone, but others in the neighborhood looked after her. Someone cleared her sidewalk of snow. Another person moved her trash cans to the curb and returned them. Crystal visited regularly and ran errands for her.

  Angela’s face was visible through the large picture window as she sat in her recliner. Crystal raised her hand to wave, but the older woman didn’t acknowledge her. A look of horror flashed across her neighbor’s face, and her hands covered her mouth in a silent scream. A man stepped into the frame of the window, nearly blocking it with his size. His back was to her as he waved his arms around in a violent gesture and threw his massive hand back before bringing it down out of her view.

  Angela was in trouble.

  Who was this stranger? She couldn’t knock on the front door. He would surely answer, and then what? She searched her pockets for her phone. She’d left it at home. Running for it would take too much time. And she couldn’t call the police without knowing more about the situation. She’d made mistakes before from overreacting. What if he was a friend or relative? Angela would never forgive her for embarrassing a guest. She had to make sure what she was seeing was a crime and not her vivid imagination.

  She headed for the side window. The neighbor’s terrier began barking, and she cringed. “Hush!” she called. What was a little dog doing outside on a night like this?

  A door opened, and light illuminated the snow in the front of the neighboring house. Crystal moved out of sight and remained silent.

  The dog’s owner poked her head out the door. “Get in here! You’ve had plenty of time to do your business.”

  The dog sniffed in Crystal’s direction, turned, and bounded for the warm indoors. She was tempted to do the same, but Angela was her friend, her adopted nana. She couldn’t abandon her to a possible criminal. What if he hurt her? Bad things happened to good people. Everyone knew that. A dark memory attempted to push itself to the surface, a past event that haunted her in times of stress, but she focused on the task at hand.

  She was tall enough to look into the smaller window on the side of the house. Angela sat in her recliner, covered with a snowflake-decorated blanket. Was she tied up beneath? She waved her arms to attract the woman’s attention, but Angela stared at the man, her eyes focused on whatever he was doing. He moved around in front of the picture window, shouting words she couldn’t decipher. For a brief moment, he looked in her direction. She ducked down. Her heart raced with fear. Had he seen her?

  She moved along the side of the house toward the back. Angela was too trusting and rarely kept the back door locked. She could enter, determine if Angela was safe, and then what? Could she scare the man off? What if he threatened them? She squared her shoulders. She’d do whatever was necessary to protect Nana.

  Chapter Two

  Nick could have sworn someone outside was peeking in the window. He paused in his lively tale of football heroics and waited. A head poked up, met his gaze, and ducked out of sight. He looked at Angela, his beloved adopted nana. “Have you had any trouble with thefts lately?”

  “I had a box stolen off my porch last week.” She wrung her hands and coughed to clear her throat. “The police made a report. They said it was common this time of the year for deliveries to be snatched by thieves.”

  It was Christmas Eve, and he’d seen a delivery truck earlier. Someone could be doing a little last-minute shopping from unguarded porches. He headed for the front door. “Stay here.”

  “What about your story? You were getting to the good part.”

  “I’ll finish it when I get back.” He grabbed his coat, slipped on his boots, and checked the front porch and driveway. Both were empty. He’d put his truck in the garage next to Angela’s compact car, knowing it would snow most of the night. Nobody was aware he was visiting. He pulled his gloves from his coat pockets and prepared for battle. He would give the thief a shocking surprise.

  He glanced around and spotted the footprints. The moon was nearly full and illuminated the tracks in the pristine landscape. He followed the disturbed snow to the side window where a small area had been packed down. The trail continued around to the back of the house. A shadowy figure was climbing onto the bottom step of the deck. He didn’t give the thief time to go any farther. He grabbed the back of his coat and pulled him from his perch, tackling him to the ground. Something in his hands flew into the air as he forced the porch pirate to the ground. “Gotcha!”

  Nick heard the whoosh as air escaped from crushed lungs. He’d experienced the wind being knocked out of him countless times. It was part of the game of football. His job as a professional defensive end was to sack the quarterback before he could throw the football. He enjoyed hearing the air escape as he knocked the surprised opponent to the ground with all of his two-hundred-and-twenty pounds of hard muscle.

  He lifted his full weight from the gift raider. It wasn’t a quarterback. It wasn’t even a man. He’d tackled a young woman. Her eyes were as big as the moon above and filled with shock and fear. She opened her mouth, but no words escaped. She gasped for air.

  “Can’t breathe!” she managed to whisper between attempts to fill her lungs.

  “I’ve had the wind knocked out of me plenty of times,” he reassured her. “Take little breaths.”

  Tears filled her eyes instead. What had he done? He offered to help her to her feet, but she batted at his hands with snow-covered gloves. She turned her back and searched the snow until she uncovered a battered container topped with a torn and flattened red bow.

  The light on the deck illuminated the backyard, and Angela stood in the opening of the sliding glass door. “What is going on out here?”

  Nick stood and pointed at the woman kneeling on the ground. “I thought she was a thief.”

  Angela stepped onto the deck, wrapping her blanket tighter around her slim shoulders. “That’s Crystal. What have you done to her?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, don’t leave her outside in the cold. Bring her inside, Nicky.”

  He hoped the name Crystal wasn’t an indication of her frailty. He scooped her up in his arms.

  She gasped, her breathing ragged before she regained her voice. “Put me down!”

  She wiggled to free herself from his grasp, but he pulled her tighter against his chest.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She continued to struggle. “You tried to kill me.”

  “Stop talking and get indoors,” Angela urged. “I don’t have enough money to heat the outdoors.” Once they were inside, she slid the glass door closed and turned off the outside light.

  Nick held Crystal aloft while he stomped on the rug to remove snow from his clothes.

  As soon as he plopped her down, she scampered to Angela’s side. “Who is this beast?”

  “That’s Nicky. He’s one of the many grandchildren I’ve adopted.” She patted Crystal’s shoulder. “Just like you.”

  Crystal scowled. “He’s nothing like me.”

  He sat on a chair at the dining room table and removed his boots. “What were you doing sneaking around Nana’s house?”

  “I was coming over to deliver these cookies.” She held out the battered tin and shook it. Tears filled her eyes. “You knocked the tin out of my hands, and you broke them.”

  Angela examined the dented tin. “It’s a little smashed but nothing serious. Nicky doesn’t know his own strength.” She pried open the damaged lid. “You made me molasses crinkles. My favorite.”

  Crystal stared at the crumbled contents, and her bottom lip trembled. “They’re ruined.”

  Angela chose a broken one and popped it into her mouth. “Cookies can be eaten whole or in pieces. Mmm, they’re delicious.”

  Nick removed his coat and stood to his full height. Crystal squinted her eyes and glared at him as he examined the tin of broken cookies.

  “They look all right to me.” He reached for one.

  She slapped his hand. “Those are for Nana.”

  He snatched one under her attack. They were tasty with a mixture of sugar and spice, unlike their baker. He looked at the tin, but she guarded it from any more sampling by him.

  “Why didn’t you come to the front door like a normal person?”