Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
My words echo in the air and fade into nothing.
The silence that greets me is palpable, and there’s suddenly a tiny bit of tension in the otherwise jolly ambiance.
“You’re the one I brought to see the village,” Stetson replies quickly.
No way.
“The first one?” I can’t help but laugh in disbelief.
Who is he kidding? He has the women he likes sign a one-night stand clause. This is a man who’s been down this rodeo before. I’m not that delusional.
Only sometimes.
“You are the first one.” He says it so solemnly that the wind gets knocked out of me.
The rush I feel from those words almost brings me to my knees. The solemness in his voice and the strange look in his eyes, it’s a tiny bit… surreal? And dare I say, magical?
But still.
I signed a one-night clause.
“I guess you could say it’s kind of a hard place to get to—especially for a date,” I choose to make light of his words, assuming nothing.
He narrows his eyes and studies me. Instead of telling me that I’m something special, he simply says, “that must be it.”
But I know he doesn’t mean it. I don’t know how. But I do.
Even though we’re silently being watched, it feels like Stetson and I are the only two people here in the world. Despite the freezing temperature, a warmth moves through my blood and my body as I lock eyes with this gorgeous man.
Then it dawns on me. I’m starting to believe him and this unbelievable story.
It doesn’t feel like he’s lying or delusional—not just because I know it—but because this would have to be the most elaborate and extravagant play in the world.
And if he’s telling the truth…
“So this is where Santa does his thing?” I stop my brain in its tracks and look around the village as the snowflakes fall from the sky like magic.
It’s the most beautiful vision I’ve ever seen. The dreamy village is lit up with shimmering lights and the smell of savory and sweets washes over me in the most perfect of ways—the kind that makes you go back in time…
Suddenly l’m overwhelmed by a feeling of nostalgia—my childhood memories wash over me like a tidal wave.
The smell of the Christmas tree, that is of course whenever mom would deem it fit to put one up.
Or remembered. Every year it was hit or miss in our house.
But when she did indulge us, there was the feeling of excitement I’d have the night before Christmas morning knowing there’d be presents waiting for me…
the pancakes mom would make in Christmas tradition…
it felt like we were a real family then.
Those were the best moments I remember from my childhood.
Those moments suddenly consume me, almost choking me in some type of emotional frenzy, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to think anymore.
And I don’t know why I’m suddenly feeling so damn emotional!
“Maybe you need to stop thinking, Charlie Horseman,” Bushy pulls me out of my reverie and watches me knowingly. “Maybe you just need to be.”
What the heck? Did he just read my mind?!
“How…” my voice trails off as Stetson steps in and smoothly changes the topic.
“Would you like to eat first or have a tour?”
“A tour,” I answer quickly, still confused as to how Bushy knew what I was thinking.
“Perfect,” Stetson smiles in pleasure and takes my hand, entwining his fingers with mine. “I can’t wait to show you around.”
That single action instantly changes my thought process to one more sensual.
“Will you be joining us for dinner?” The one named Sugarplum asks.
Stetson cocks his head to the side, “we’ll stop by for the party, but I think we’ll have dinner alone.”
“Great,” he says and gives us a big smile. “Have a jolly time!”
Stetson looks over at me.
“Ready?”
As ready as I’ll ever be.
Stetson takes me through the Christmas village. All the buildings in the village have thick sugared snow rooftops with icicles hanging like crystal chandeliers. The windows are square and large and remind me of something I saw in the Lord of the Rings movie.
We stop by many little workshops where the dwarves are busy making all sorts of toys—I’m not joking—exactly like we imagined it would be when we were growing up.
Santa has a real, honest to goodness workshop.
A few of them. And there are dwarves or elves or whatever he’s calling them making presents for kids! They’re singing too! Literally whistling, singing and dancing around like they’re having the time of their life.
The toys are delicate looking, as though they’re one-of-a-kind pieces.
A child’s dream.
We stop at a shop called, The Cocoa Cottage.
“We’ll grab a drink here before we go on. I promise you’ve never had hot chocolate like this before,” Stetson says in excitement.
“And Shorty tops them off with different liqueurs he experiments with,” he winks at me. “He’s the village mixologist.”
Village mixologist? Now this, I must see.
“Let’s do this!” I answer with equal exuberance.
We step inside the shop, and I’m hit with the scent of cocoa, vanilla and toasted marshmallows.
My mouth waters immediately and I find myself excited to try the drink and just soak in the ambiance.
There’s a big fire crackling in a stone hearth in one corner.
Shelves line the walls, stacked with jars of candy and a three-person band performs a happy folk song in another.
Couples dance, drink and are just… merry?
Stetson pulls me toward the bar, and who I assume is Shorty walks up to us.
He’s a pleasant looking tiny older man with a long grey and white beard and spectacles that look like they’re from the sixteenth century.
He too is wearing a cap like Santa, but his is green and white. His smile is infectious.
“What can I get you?” His booming voice is filled with cheer as he turns the menu in our direction.
“We’ll take the Naughty and Nice flight and a Candy Cane Velvet,” Stetson sounds extremely excited. “And maybe a dozen of those chocolate rolls your wife makes so well.”
“Coming right up!”
“A dozen?” I laugh at him. “I’m going to assume they’re small.”
He gives me a wolfish smile.
“I’m a growing boy.”
“I don’t know how much more growing you have to do,” I shake my head at him.
He smiles mischievously, “you know—”
I cover his mouth with my hand.
“Don’t you dare!” I laugh at him, knowing full well I set myself up.
He kisses my hand and holds it against his lips for a minute longer making my heart race something fierce. He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me up against his hard body. His other hand moves to cup my cheek and lift my face up to his.
He doesn’t lean down to kiss me like I want, he just stares at me.
“I dare anything, Charlie,” he whispers.
I’m sure he does.
My hands lay against his chest as we gaze into each other’s eyes.
When he looks at me like this, I feel like he can see me.
Really see me. Charlie with all her flaws and gifts.
The little girl whose heart was broken by mom and dad.
The rebellious teenager, the outcast, who went down a dangerous road for a moment in time, just screaming for her parents to pay attention to her.
The young lady in her twenties who was determined to become something and turn her life around.
But deep inside, where I keep my secrets…
The little girl dreaming of having her very own fairytale.