Chapter Twenty Connor
CHAPTER TWENTY
CONNOR
The Zamboni was larger—and more complicated—than I’d expected. Its controls looked like something out of a spaceship, with levers, buttons, and knobs that all seemed equally important.
“Are you sure about this?” Laney asked, her arms crossed as she stood by the rink, her eyes dancing with amusement.
“I’m a CEO,” I said with mock confidence, climbing into the driver’s seat. “How hard can this be?”
She snorted. “Running a company doesn’t exactly qualify you to drive a glorified ice-cleaning tractor.”
“Details,” I replied back. I patted the seat beside me. “Come on, baby. You’re riding shotgun.”
Laney hesitated for a moment before climbing in, her body brushing against mine as she squeezed into the narrow space. “If we die, I’m haunting you,” she said, her voice teasing.
“Noted.” I fiddled with the controls, squinting at the buttons. “Okay, so this lever… should make it go forward.”
The Zamboni lurched to life, and Laney squealed, grabbing my arm for balance.
We rolled onto the ice with all the grace of a baby elephant, the machine swaying slightly as I overcorrected the steering.
When I made the deal to clear the ice when we were done, I figured there would be a guide or something. I never expected to wing it.
“Connor!” Laney shrieked, half laughing, half panicked. “Watch out for the wall!”
“I’ve got this,” I assured her, even as the Zamboni veered dangerously close to the boards. A group of kids scattered on the other side, their giggles echoing across the rink.
Laney doubled over laughing. “You’re terrifying! How are you worse at this than skating?”
“It’s all part of the experience,” I said, grinning despite the sweat forming at the back of my neck. “Hold on—we’re going to pick up speed.”
“Pick up speed? No!” Laney protested, but her laughter betrayed her.
I pushed the throttle, and the Zamboni surged forward, gliding faster across the ice. For a moment, it felt like I actually had control. Laney leaned into me, her laughter bubbling up again as she pointed toward the other side of the rink. “Turn, Connor! Turn!”
“I’m turning!” I yanked the wheel, but the Zamboni responded a beat too late. We started spinning, the machine pivoting in slow, looping circles. Laney’s laughter turned into breathless gasps as she clung to my arm.
“Connor! We’re going to—”
The Zamboni slid toward the rink’s edge, its massive frame gliding straight for the hot chocolate bar. My stomach dropped as I frantically twisted the wheel, trying to correct our course.
The Zamboni jerked to a stop, its nose mere inches from the steaming pots of cocoa and the wide-eyed vendor.
For a moment, everything was silent. Then Laney burst into laughter, her head falling against my shoulder. “Oh my God. We almost destroyed Christmas.”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed too, the sound rolling out of me in waves. “I’d like to point out that we didn’t though. No hot chocolate was harmed in the making of this moment.”
Laney lifted her head, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling. “That was the worst—and most fun—ride of my life.”
I reached over, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I aim to impress.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled, her fingers still gripping my arm. “Impress, huh? You almost killed Santa’s hot chocolate supply.”
“Details,” I said, smirking. But as our laughter faded, I realized I didn’t want the moment to end—the closeness, the sound of her laugh, the way her eyes danced even in the chaos. It felt… right.
“Kiss her!”
I glanced up at the group of townspeople who were watching us. “Kiss Laney!”
My wife stared up at me with cheeks pink and lips parted. “We should probably do what they ask, right?” she whispered.
“Hmm, yes.” I cupped her face and pressed my lips against hers, taking in how soft and full they were.
She tasted like mint, and when she made a small moan, I deepened the kiss, not caring that everyone was around us.
I loved this woman so much, and I had almost lost her.
I’d skate or drive this Zamboni or kiss her in front of an audience every day if it meant I got to keep her.
I pulled back, admiring the way her lashes fell on her cheeks, the slight flush of her skin. She blinked up at me, her eyes a little dazed. “That kiss was…”
“I know.”
The magic of the night hit me hard. This place was like a snow globe. Laney covered her face with her hands, groaning. “Oh my God, everyone will be talking about us now.”
“Let them be jealous.”
The cold air nipped at my face as Laney and I stepped off the ice, our laughter echoing.
My legs felt a little unsteady after the Zamboni adventure, but it was nothing compared to the way my chest felt lighter than it had in years.
I glanced at Laney and the way she smiled made the rest of the world disappear.
“That,” she said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, “was the single most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, smirking. “I aim to make memories.”
“Let’s just agree you’re banned from heavy machinery for the foreseeable future.”
“Fair.” I chuckled, looking back at the rink.
Once we were on solid ground with our shoes on, Laney laughed again. “I still can’t believe what just happened. We were almost a headline, Connor. One of those feel-good small-town news stories. Wife and husband almost take out hot chocolate bar.”
The lights shimmered on the freshly polished ice, and kids were already skating again, laughing like they hadn’t been about to get run over by the Zamboni. It was somehow perfect despite our horrible job.
As we reached the first set of small booths, a voice called out. “That was some fancy driving, city guy!”
I turned to see an older man in a thick sweater and worn red coat waving us over. He had the kind of friendly face you’d expect in a town like this—one where everyone knew everyone.
“I swear, the Zamboni had a mind of its own,” I said, raising my hands in mock surrender. Not that the city guy comment annoyed me, but I deserved it.
“You gave the crowd a good laugh,” the man said, chuckling as he handed me a cup of steaming cocoa. “Always good to have some excitement around here. I’m Sean Hastings, by the way. I run the grocery store.”
“Connor,” I said, shaking his hand. “Appreciate the cocoa. And I’m just glad I didn’t take out the stand.”
Sean grinned. “Small miracles. Though, I bet if you had, the chamber of commerce would’ve sent you the bill.”
“The chamber of commerce?” I asked, taking a sip. The cocoa was hot, sweet, and exactly what I needed after the chaos. Laney held hers up to her mouth after a sip, the marshmallows coating the top of her lip.
“Yeah,” Sean said, gesturing toward a few other people gathered nearby. “We’re just a bunch of local business owners trying to keep things running. We’re the ones who keep this rink open, organize the holiday market—things like that.”
Laney raised an eyebrow, her voice teasing. “And handle damage control after near–Zamboni disasters? I’m sure that’s in the job description too.”
Sean laughed. “Something like that. You two have a good night. Tell your parents I’m expecting them to bring dessert next bridge night, Laney.”
“You got it, Mr. Hastings.”
“Mr. Hastings.” The older guy rolled his eyes. “You can call me Sean, Laney. You’re an adult now.”
“Some things never change.” My wife grinned and gave him a half hug before he headed back to the group.
Laney nudged me with her elbow. “You okay? You seem thoughtful.”
I stared out at the rink, watching a group of teenagers race each other across. Their laughter echoed in the crisp night air, and for a moment, I just stood there, taking it all in. This small-town life had a lot of perks that I never realized. Even now, how Laney knew Mr. Hastings felt special.
Mr. Hastings was on Cherrywood’s chamber of commerce? A flicker of interest hit me. How did that even work? “Yeah, just… thinking. I didn’t realize how much effort goes into keeping a town like this running.”
Laney tilted her head, studying me like she always did when she knew there was more I wasn’t saying. “It’s not exactly glamorous, is it?”
“No,” I admitted, a smile tugging at my lips. “But it’s… honest. You can see the impact. Everyone here knows each other, looks out for each other. There’s something refreshing about that.”
Her gaze softened, and she slipped her hand into mine. The gesture was small, but it steadied something in me I hadn’t realized was off-balance. “You sound like you actually like it here.”
I laughed, though there was more truth in her words than I was ready to admit. “Maybe I do.”
It was the place where my wife had fallen back in love with me.
It was the place she was happiest. I’d been so focused on hustling, making a name for myself, forgetting what life was about.
When Petra admitted how she had forgotten how to live, that hit me too.
Was it really living when I spent all my time at work?
Was it living when all I felt was stress and worry?
It was the moments like tonight, like Laney holding my hand and smiling up at the stars that brought me back. What if every night could be like this? The thought remained with me as we shopped the small booths.
Later, as the rink cleared, I found myself near the hot chocolate stand again where Sean and a few others were chatting. He waved me over, and I joined them, nursing the last of my cocoa.
“We were just talking about our struggles with the off-season,” Sean explained. “December’s great, but after that, business slows to a crawl. Half of us barely scrape by until summer.”
Another shop owner chimed in. “We’ve tried promotions, events, you name it. But it’s hard to bring in steady traffic.”
I listened, my mind already racing as Laney stood a few feet away, deeply engaged with a group of women her age. Maybe she knew them. Maybe they just met. With her in my peripheral, I spoke to Sean. “What about digital marketing? Online promotions? You could attract people from nearby cities.”
Sean shrugged. “We don’t have the resources for that kind of thing. Most of us are lucky if we can keep the lights on.”
“What if you pooled your resources?” I said, the idea forming as I spoke. “Create a unified strategy to market the town as a destination—not just in December but year-round.”
The group exchanged skeptical glances, but I caught a flicker of interest in Sean’s expression. “That’s a nice idea,” he said, “but who’s got the time—or the know-how—to make it happen?”
I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I glanced at Laney again, her laugh carrying over the ice. For the first time in years, I felt something shift in me—not ambition, not obligation. Purpose.
And maybe, just maybe, this little town had more to offer than I’d ever expected.