Riley

Somewhere between selling out of bow ties and taking a large custom order for a local woman’s Miniature Schnauzer, the first snowflakes fell, dusting the market square with a soft, festive sparkle. I hammer away at the metal tags, working quickly so I can close up my little wooden stall by nine and meet Jake.

“Chops.” I chuckle at the name; it’s unusual but fitting for a dog with such a distinguished beard.

As I finish stamping the tags and riveting them to each collar, Chops’ owner approaches, delighted with the work. Chops wags his tail and yips excitedly, ready for his new accessories.

After taking her payment and bidding her and Chops a Merry Christmas, I see Jake approaching with a hot chocolate in each hand, his breath forming soft clouds in the frosty air.

“I know I said to meet at Fiona’s hot chocolate stand, but since my family left, I figured it was safe to meet you here.” He flashes a smile, his eyes alight with a determination I wouldn’t dream of defying.

I lock the shutter and side entrance of the little wooden hut I rented for this evening, and Jake hands me one of the hot chocolates.

“Apple and cinnamon. How did you know?” I inhale the seasonal scents I love, knowing the taste explosion is about to send me to hot chocolate heaven.

“Christy mentioned it last year,” he says, sipping his hot chocolate.

“And you remembered?” I ask, surprised he held onto such a minor detail. Warmth spreads through me, both from the drink and his thoughtfulness.

He holds my gaze for a long moment. “Yes,” he replies softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

My cheeks flush as we stroll through the fair. Around us, food and drink stalls offer holiday treats: gourmet burgers, steaming pizza slices, gingerbread-flavored donuts, and cotton candy in festive colors. The scent of roasting chestnuts and caramel fills the air, blending with the cheerful notes of a Christmas carol playing nearby.

“I thought we could go on the Ferris wheel,” Jake suggests, his fingers lacing through mine as he tugs me gently toward the line.

I squeeze his hand, warmth spreading from his touch, even through my gloves.

The creaking of the passenger cars has me wondering how safe it is, but as we get closer to the front and see how many people alight the ride with huge smiles, I figure it can’t be that bad.

Once we reach the front, Jake guides me into the passenger car, and I slide into the seat, fastening the belt. He settles beside me, and we start to rise, the hum of the Ferris wheel blending with the soft jingle of sleigh bells in the background.

“So, how did it go tonight at your stall?” he asks.

We fall into easy conversation about my small business, Custom Cuties, and the little successes I’ve had so far. I tell him about Chops and the other orders I received tonight.

“How about you? How’s work?” I ask, turning to see his face lit by the holiday lights around us.

Jake raises his eyebrows, a grin breaking across his face. “It’s going okay, but if I’m being honest, I’m ready for a bit of a change.” He shrugs, then gestures through the bars of the Ferris wheel car. “Look.”

I follow his gaze and gasp as the view unfolds. The square below is lit with Christmas lights, casting a vibrant, magical glow over the snow-covered stalls and pathways. Strings of lights drape across rooftops, and wreaths twinkle from every lamppost, creating a holiday scene from a postcard.

“Wow,” I murmur. “They always look beautiful, but from up here, it’s… picture perfect.”

When I turn back, I catch Jake snapping a photo on his phone. I blush, smiling as he looks up, clearly as caught in the moment as I am.

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.