3. Sofia
CHAPTER 3
Sofia
I tugged at my apron, fingers trembling slightly as I smoothed the fabric against my hips. The polished wood of The Hearthstone's bar gleamed under the warm glow of Christmas lights, so different from the sleek, modern surfaces of The Franklin—my old bar in Philly. The bar I’d always dreamed of owning one day.
I’d started by bussing tables, and then when I’d turned nineteen, I’d moved to serving the high tops before getting promoted to one of the coveted spots behind the bar. After that, it hadn’t taken long for me to become the daughter the owners never had. It had give them so much joy to teach me everything they knew about running a business—specifically, an upscale bar in a nice part of the city—in the hopes I’d be the reason they could retire someday.
It’d killed me to disappoint them.
But as I fidgeted with the strings of my apron, I couldn’t ignore the knot forming in my stomach. This wasn’t just a part-time job—it was my attempt at a clean slate. And if I failed here, what then?
I pushed the thought aside, willing myself to focus on the here and now. My gaze swept across the bustling bar, taking in the laughter-filled tables and the festive garlands wrapped around every available pole or post. I began wiping down the already spotless counter, paying attention to the drinks in front of the customers seated across from me.
Patrons at The Hearthstone were beer and wine folks. The basic mixed drinks were on the menu, but there were no trendy cocktails other than the two Christmas-themed ones that were usually only ordered by tourists—or so I’d been told.
Even the music and food were more relaxed and homey than at The Franklin. No carefully curated playlists or meticulously crafted small plates that looked better suited to a magazine spread than in one’s tummy. Christmas music softly poured from the jukebox, and the food menu boasted hearty comfort food that reminded me of Sunday dinners at my grandmother’s.
The Franklin had hummed with a different kind of energy—intense and electric. I’d enjoyed it for so many years, and I truly had seen myself as someone who fit there. My typically all-black wardrobe highlighted my love for all things dark and edgy, but it was weird to compare the monochromatic vibe of The Franklin to the warm reds and browns in here. And it wasn’t just the color scheme or the lighting that made everything feel slower, softer. Working at The Hearthstone just felt like less like a show, and more like a home.
The door chimed, admitting a boisterous new batch of customers. I straightened, plastering on my most welcoming smile as I prepared to face them.
"Welcome in,” I said as they settled in at the bar, placing coasters with various Christmas designs in front of them. "What can I get started for you?"
I listened to their orders, then prepared them with practiced ease, relaxing into the rhythm behind the bar. The twinkling lights reflected off the liquor bottles behind me, casting a magical glow over the space as I worked. A minute later, I placed my customers’ drinks in front of them with a smile before heading to the register to start them a tab.
A man in his mid-thirties approached the bar, taking off his coat and draping it over the back of the barstool to reveal a plaid flannel shirt buttoned up nearly all the way. I could see hints of dark tattoos on his neck and wrists that disappeared beneath the fabric, and his jawline was sharp, shadowed with just enough scruff to suggest he didn’t bother with a daily shave.
Ruggedly handsome, I decided, as he tossed me a grin that teetered between friendly and calculated. I sent him a nod to let him know I’d be right there, finishing up at the register with quick pecks on the screen.
Was he a local or a tourist? Unlike most small towns, Snow Hill wasn’t the kind of place where anyone would think twice about strangers passing through, especially this time of year. Here, Christmas season meant the population swelled. But the way his gaze roamed over the bar—pausing to smile faintly at the decorations or scanning the specials board—made me lean toward a tourist. Locals didn’t look at The Hearthstone like that. To them, it was a second home. A place where everyone knew where the squeaky stools were and which taps tended to foam.
The man had a wayward curiosity about him, like someone testing the waters of a town they’d heard about in passing. I tucked that observation into my mental notes as he slid onto his stool and rested his forearms on the counter, his tattoos peeking out again when he shifted his hands.
“What’s your poison?” I asked when I reached him, offering my default bartender smile—the one that said friendly, approachable, and absolutely not hitting on him.
“Surprise me. But make it festive,” he said, his grin widening slightly as if to challenge me.
Festive. Bingo. That was prime tourist behavior. Looked like my knack for guessing orders held strong, even in a new bar in a new town. “One ‘Snow Hill Sleigh Ride,’ coming right up,” I said, a wry smile.
As I grabbed the peppermint schnapps and vanilla vodka from the shelf, I felt his eyes on me, not in the way that made my skin crawl but in the way I was more than used to. Guys at the bar were just like that—moths to a flame. I didn’t mind, not really. Attention often translated into tips, and I’d mastered the art of letting it roll off my back while still keeping the register and my pockets happy. A little charm went a long way in this line of work.
“New to town?” he asked as he watched me prep his drink.
I poured a splash of cream into the shaker and gave it a brisk shake. “That obvious?”
“Just a guess,” he said with a casual shrug, his grin easy but watchful. “You’ve got that fresh start kind of vibe.”
“First week,” I said, keeping it vague. “What about you? Passing through?”
“Sure am. But I might linger for bit. Heard Snow Hill’s a good place to… get away.”
Didn’t I know it. Plenty of people came to Snow Hill with vague notions of peace and quiet—or to soak up the Christmas magic the town practically trademarked. And once they got here, they fell in love.
“You heard right,” I confirmed. “Why Snow Hill?”
He paused, tilting his head from side to side. “I’m used to the concrete jungle, so I thought this might be a good change of scenery.”
Another thing we had in common.
“Well, enjoy it. And enjoy this.” Sliding the frosted glass across the counter, I offered him a wink. “But be careful, it packs a punch like a reindeer kick.”
He chuckled as my cheesiness and lifted the glass in my direction. “Well, cheers to my new favorite bartender. What’s your name, by the way?”
“Sofia,” I said, my tone light but polite.
“Derrick. Good to meet you, Sofia.”
“You too.”
He watched me over the rim of his glass as he took a sip of his drink, then his brows lifted in surprise. “Whoa. That’s Christmas in a glass. Glad I put my fate in your capable hands.”
I flashed him a quick grin, equal parts amused and unimpressed. Navigating conversations over the bar was a game I played well. “Well, my hands make a mean cocktail, but don’t push your luck.”
He openly laughed now, leaning back on his stool. “Noted.”
I turned to check on a group of customers across the bar, instinctively gauging their drinks and deciding they had another ten minutes before needing refills. My mind cataloged everything in the room, from the muffled conversation near the dartboard to the laughter ringing out near the corner booth. Friday night was picking up, and it felt good to be back in my element.
Just then, the door swung open, admitting a gust of crisp winter air and three familiar faces. Grace, Robin, and Holly entered, their cheeks flushed from the cold, waving enthusiastically.
"There's our girl!" Holly called out, pulling off her coat to reveal an ugly Christmas sweater that probably cost more than I’d earn in tips tonight. But, hey, the girl was famous. She could afford to splurge on her Christmas-cheer obsession.
"Ah, it’s so good to see you!” I said, a wave of gratitude rolling over me as they settled at the bar.
Robin's eyes crinkled with affection. "As soon as Joan told us you were starting work here tonight, we had to come see you. But I’m sorry I didn’t stop by the inn to see you this morning. The mayor’s office gets crazy this time of year, which means I’m running around like a chicken without a head doing everything he needs before he even knows he needs it. Plus, Abby’s last week of school before break starts on Monday, and that means it’s spirit week, so I’ve been looking for the items she’ll need to wear, or else she’ll never speak to me again.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Holly chimed in before I could reply. “We were filming a new episode that’s turning out be a lot more complicated than we expected, and I kept getting caught every time I tried to sneak away.”
Holly was a movie star turned baking show star, and they filmed her show right here in Snow Hill. Considering the town was actually a mecca for Christmas movies to be filmed—and that was how Holly had met and fell in love with Nick at the Inn—it didn’t surprise me that the star was able to create her dream career and life within the city limits.
“I guess I’m the best friend to Sofia of the group,” Grace said smugly, shimmying her shoulders. “I’ve already seen her twice since she’s been in town.”
Holly and Robin looked at each other and then at Grace before all three of them laughed, and I couldn’t have been happier to have these girls in my corner. Last year, I’d immediately bonded with Grace and claimed her as my Snow Hill bestie, and now that Grace was married to Tommy, we were sisters.
I laughed. "Well, I’m glad you’re all here now. First round's on the house—meaning me, since I don’t know how comping works around here yet."
As I prepared their drinks, I marveled at how effortlessly these women had become my support system. In Philadelphia, I’d always felt like I was performing, even with friends. There, I’d always been on—matching their energy, laughing at the right jokes, being the version of myself they expected. But here? Here, I could just be Sofia. And somehow, that seemed to be enough for them.
"You know," I said, my voice softer now, "I don't think I've properly thanked you all for making me feel so welcome here."
Holly reached across the bar to squeeze my hand. "That's what friends are for.”
“And since you’re ours now, and Snow Hill takes care of its own, you’ll just have to get used to it,” Robin added.
My heart squeezed, but I deflected with a playful smirk. "Even us city girls?" I slid their drinks across the bar, each garnished with a sprig of fresh mint.
Grace took a sip and let out an appreciative hum. "Especially city girls who can mix a Mojito like this. Seriously, Fi, this is amazing."
"Thanks," I replied, twirling a strand of my dark hair. "So, catch me up. What's the latest Snow Hill gossip?"
As my friends launched into animated chatter about the upcoming Gingerbread Ball and the new family that had moved in on Maple Street, I relaxed. I listened intently, asking questions and laughing at their stories, all while keeping an eye on the rest of the bar. I refilled drinks when needed, but it didn’t interrupt the flow of bonding with these women.
But then Grace paused as she was midway through another round of town gossip, her brow furrowing. "But how are you doing, Sofia? Really?"
My smile faltered for a moment. I busied myself with wiping down the counter. "Oh, you know. Taking it day by day. But don’t stop that story. I was into it. Tell me more about this mysterious new neighbor."
As Grace launched back into her tale, I caught Holly and Robin exchanging concerned glances. I appreciated their worry, but I wasn't ready to unpack everything just yet. Instead, I focused on the laughter of my friends and the growing sense that maybe I could find my place here.
My friends didn’t stay long, and after they left, my hands paused mid-shake on a cocktail shaker as a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped inside.
His presence immediately commanded my attention, some kind of energy about him that made me stop and take notice. It wasn’t arrogance or flashiness—it was quieter, steadier, like the hum of a far-off storm rolling in. I couldn’t decide if his confident stride put me at ease or set me on edge… but maybe it was both, and the edge might’ve been a tad bit delicious.
The newcomer's hazel eyes held a quiet quiet intensity, his short-cropped dark hair dusted with snowflakes that were quickly melting. His haircut was a dead giveaway, but he also moved with a controlled grace that spoke of military training. It was something I could spot a mile away thanks to my brother’s experience in the army and being around him and his friends.
Spot chosen, he settled at the far end of the bar, and I was instantly drawn to him. My heart raced for no good reason as I approached, then stopped altogether when I realized that up close, the man's features were even more striking—a strong jaw, lips pressed in a contemplative line, and those eyes that seemed to hold way too many secrets.
I promptly decided that he looked like a whiskey man.
"Welcome to The Hearthstone," I said, summoning my most welcoming smile. "What can I get for you?"
The man's gaze met mine, and when he spoke, his voice was as smooth as his drink order. "Whiskey, neat. Got anything local in stock?”
I scanned through my memories from the hasty training I’d received earlier in the day, then nodded. "We have a great small-batch bourbon from just outside town."
"Sounds perfect."
As I poured the amber liquid, I stole glances at the man I’d correctly pegged as a whiskey lover. His smile was polite but distant, and there was something familiar about him, though I was sure I’d never seen him before.
“Here for a Christmas vacay?” I ventured.
A hint of a smile tipped up his full lips. “You could say that.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “But you’re not a regular Christmas-magic-seeking tourist.”
The smile grew ever so slightly. “Is that a question?”
“Statement.”
He grinned full-on, and the effect was devastating. “I grew up here. Been away for a while."
"Oh yeah? Well, welcome back, then. Here you go," I said, setting the glass in front of him.
His eyes met mine, a flicker of something—interest, maybe?—passing through them. "Thank you,” he murmured.
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, my fingers brushing my cheek as if trying to ground myself. The man’s eyes tracked the movement, something softening in his gaze before he took a measured sip of his whiskey.
For a moment, it felt like the rest of the bar was fading into the background, my other customers disappearing one by one until it was just the two of us.
Not a good look for a lone bartender on a busy Friday night.
I told myself to get it together. I was here for a fresh start, not to fall for the first mysterious stranger who walked into the bar on night one of my new job. But I couldn't deny the pull I felt. There was something in his quiet strength, so different from Dane's flashy charm, that intrigued me.
I broke eye contact, suddenly self-conscious. "So, um, what made you wanna come back to Snow Hill this Christmas?"
He paused, considering. "The timing wasn’t my choice. I’m visiting family before I start a new job nearby.”
“Yeah, hence my earlier comment. You don’t strike me as the type to come here simply for the Christmas cheer.”
“No? What gave me away?”
I chuckled, shrugging. “I’m not sure, but I’m pretty good at reading people.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Sure, it was all fun and games to predict someone’s drink order, but the stuff that mattered? Maybe I’d never really had that ability.
My chest tightened at the memory of Dane’s promises—the words I’d wanted to believe, the ones I’d clung to for far too long. I shuddered, cutting the thought short.
But refocusing on having an interest in a man in this town wasn’t much better. Snow Hill might have its Christmas magic, but it hadn’t been enough to save me from misjudging someone when I’d visited last year, either. Maybe that’s why the flicker of interest in this guy’s gaze made my stomach twist with both excitement and unease.
Sure, everything about him made my heart flutter, but it wasn’t on my holiday bucket list to fall for another handsome and mysterious man, only for him to turn out to be much different than he seemed.
I swallowed hard. "Anyway, enjoy your drink," I managed, willing my voice to remain steady. "Let me know if you need anything else."
He nodded, allowing a ghost of a smile. "Will do." He took a sip of his drink, his gaze steady on me. “What about you?”
Chuckling, I tilted my head. “What about me?”
“How’d you wind up in Snow Hill?”
I blinked at him, caught off guard. It wasn’t his question—I wasn’t a stranger to questions like that. It was the fact that I rarely considered answering them. My job was to serve drinks with a smile, listen if someone needed an ear, and keep things surface-level for the good of the bar. And yet, no part of me wanted to be coy or vague with the man in front of me.
I reached for a towel to busy my hands. “My story?”
“Sure. Where are you from? Why Snow Hill?”
I’d asked Derrick that same question, and my eyes flicked to where he lingered at the other end of the bar, scrolling on his phone. I hadn’t really cared about his answer, and if he’d asked the same of me, I wouldn’t have said anything too deep. And yet…
“My brother lives here, and after I quit my old job in Philly after my ex ruined it for me, I felt like running away to a magical Christmas town was the most mature and reasonable thing I could do,” I admitted wryly, so surprised by my unfiltered honesty that I wondered if he could hear it in my voice.
His brow furrowed slightly. “What happened?”
My fingers absently tracing the edge of the bar. “It was just a lot of drama. Either way, I decided I’d had enough, so here I am.”
Hudson’s expression didn’t change, but his jaw tightened just slightly, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes—protectiveness, maybe?
It threw me off, but not in a bad way.
“Good for you,” he said. “For getting out of a bad situation. That takes guts.”
I tried to downplay it with a shrug. “Guess so.”
“You guess?” His lips quirked, and I smiled at the challenge in his tone. “Trust me. It does.”
Something about the way he said it—firm, confident, like he spoke from experience—made me believe him. And maybe that was the scariest part. Because for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t just being polite with someone across the bar. I was connecting.