Chapter 13
Thirteen
Declan
I’ve never cleaned for anyone, but somehow, she makes me want the place to look like it’s worth her time. I toss throw pillows, fold blankets, and wipe down the counter for the third time. Even the floor mats get a shake. I stop in the middle of the living room, trying to see it the way she will.
The couch is a little worn, the coffee table scarred from old poker nights, and the string of Christmas lights across the window blinks out of rhythm, but it feels like me. It feels honest. I just hope she’ll see that too.
A restless energy hums through me. I’ve faced burning buildings without blinking, but the thought of Tarryn Paradise maybe spending the night has me pacing like a rookie.
She said she’d think about it. Not yes, not no. Just that soft maybe that keeps a man hoping.
I grab a thick wool blanket from the closet, the one I use for camping, and fold it over my arm. If she doesn’t stay, fine. If she does, it’ll be perfect for the tree lighting. The forecast says it’ll snow before morning, and downtown Paradise always gets the sharpest wind off the lake.
I toss the blanket into the back seat of my truck beside a thermos of hot chocolate I made earlier. Maybe I added a splash of Bailey’s. Just in case courage needs a boost.
When I lock up, I glance back once. The soft glow from the window lights makes the place look warmer than it deserves to be. For the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel empty.
The drive to the winery is quiet, the clouds hanging heavy and low. When I pull into the Paradise Hill lot, the last of the daylight has thinned into silver. Warm light spills from the office windows, and through the glass, I spot Tarryn talking with Elise.
I smooth my jacket and cross the gravel as I arrive at Paradise Hill to pick up Tarryn.
Elise spots me first. Her friendly expression lasts two seconds before it sharpens. She meets me halfway, arms crossed.
“Declan Conner,” she says.
“Elise Anderson,” I answer, keeping my voice light. “You look… fierce.”
“Good. You should be a little afraid of me.”
“Pretty sure I already am.”
Her mouth doesn’t twitch. “If you disappear on her again, I’ll hunt you down myself. And I won’t come alone. You know her brothers are doctors and know how to make someone disappear without a trace.”
I lift my hands. “That’s not my plan. I didn’t come back to leave again. I came back to win her over.”
That softens her for half a heartbeat before she opens her mouth to add another threat. But the office door swings open, and Tarryn steps out, wrapped in a long coat and scarf, cheeks pink from the cold. She’s carrying a picnic basket with the Paradise Hill logo burned into the lid.
Elise turns, her scowl fading.
Tarryn smiles. “A gift for the mayor. From the winery. Two bottles of the reserve and some holiday treats. Thought the lighting committee could use a toast tonight.”
Of course she did. Always thinking ahead and taking care of everyone else.
Elise sighs. “You two behave. And, Tarryn, don’t let him talk you into anything stupid.”
Tarryn’s eyes glint. “Define stupid.”
Elise groans. “Exactly my point.”
Tarryn turns to me. “Ready?”
“Been ready all day.” I take the basket from her before she can argue. “Where to, boss?”
“Downtown. The tree lighting festivities start at five.”
As we walk to my truck, Elise calls after us, “Remember, Conner, we know where you live!”
“I wouldn’t dream of forgetting,” I call back.
Tarryn laughs, climbing in beside me. The cab fills with her scent, clean, faintly floral, like snow and something sweeter underneath.
The heater hums as we roll toward town. The blanket sits between us, a quiet promise.
“So,” I say, eyes on the road, “did you pack an overnight bag?”
Her lips curve. “I have what I need if I decide to stay.”
I grin. “Fair enough.”
The bridge into downtown crawls with traffic, brake lights glowing red against the dark sky. For Paradise, it’s practically gridlock. Families walk along the sidewalks, bundled tight, laughter spilling into the night.
“Guess everyone decided to show up,” I say.
“They always do,” she answers, smiling out the window. “The Black Bear Valley never misses a chance to celebrate.”
We inch forward until the red bay doors of the firehouse come into view. The guys are directing traffic, strings of lights blinking along the roofline. I roll the window down and wave. They grin and wave back, already guessing who’s in my passenger seat.
Tarryn laughs. “They’re not subtle.”
“Never are,” I say, pulling into a spot near the back. “Perks of parking at the station. Always room for one of our own.”
We climb out, and the cold hits fast. She shivers, rubbing her hands together.
“Here,” I say, shrugging out of my coat and draping it over her shoulders before she can protest.
“Declan—”
“Don’t argue. You’ll just distract me.”
She smiles, the kind that lights up her eyes. “You know this means I’m keeping it now.”
“Fine by me.”
I grab a second jacket, the blanket and basket, and she slips her arm through mine.
A local church choir warms up near the gazebo, their voices rising over the hum of the crowd.
The air smells of cider, kettle corn, and wood smoke.
Flurries drift through the streetlights, the first hint of the snow the forecast promised.
We make our way to the mayor, who’s shaking hands and beaming like the star of the show.
“Mr. Mayor,” Tarryn says, offering the basket. “From Paradise Hill Winery. A little thank-you for everything you do for the community.”
He grins. “Paradise Hill always does things right. Thank you, Tarryn.”
“We appreciate you,” she says. “Especially for the vineyard codes.”
He chuckles. “You caught that irrigation permit issue before it turned into a disaster. You probably saved half the valley.” It wasn’t that big of a deal.
I had a new ecological survey done that proved the provincial government had misidentified a bird habitat.
The government lifted the buffer and immediately restored full water access to the valley.
She laughs. “You’re kind, but the new environmental rules might undo it all. They make sense for the big vineyards, but they’ll crush the small ones. New vineyards won’t stand a chance.”
The mayor nods. “We’ll do what we can to keep it fair.”
“I know you will,” she says. “Thank you.”
He pats her arm. “Enjoy the night. And thank you for the wine.”
As we walk away, I murmur, “Always the diplomat.”
She smiles. “Someone has to be. You can’t just fight fires. Some of us have to prevent them.”
We drift through the crowd, stopping near the bakery where carolers in Santa hats sing “Jingle Bell Rock.” Their laughter fills the space between verses.
We pause at the hot chocolate booth. I order two large cups, and the woman slides a candy cane into each one. The peppermint melts into the chocolate, sweet and sharp.
Tarryn takes a sip. “Oh, that’s perfect.”
“Needs marshmallows,” I tease.
She bumps my arm. “You’re impossible.”
“Accurate,” I say.
A voice calls her name. Ginny Dempsey waves from near the fountain, bundled in a red coat, Ryker beside her with a paper cup in hand.
“Hey, you two,” Tarryn says, pulling me along.
Ryker nods. “Conner. Good to see you out of the station.”
“Good to be out,” I say. “You two on date night?”
“Tree lighting date,” Ginny says. “Couldn’t miss it.”
Before Tarryn can reply, a small boy runs up shouting, “Dr. Ryker!”
Ryker crouches, grinning. “Hey, buddy. You enjoying the show?”
The kid nods. “I saw Santa twice!”
“Twice? You must’ve been extra good.”
The boy’s mom laughs, thanking him before leading her son away. Ginny smiles. “He can’t go anywhere without being recognized.”
“Occupational hazard,” Ryker says, shrugging.
We chat another minute before the crowd shifts toward the square’s center. The mayor climbs onto the stage with a microphone.
“All right, everyone! Gather close. It’s time!”
Tarryn squeezes my hand, and we find a patch of grass near the front. I spread the blanket, and we sit shoulder to shoulder as the children's choir takes its place.
The first notes of “Silent Night” float through the cold, clear air. The crowd quiets. Tarryn leans into me, and I wrap the blanket around us both. Her head rests against my shoulder, her breath warm through the wool.
The world feels small and safe for once. The lights shimmer against the falling snow, and her hand finds mine under the blanket.
The final verse fades, and the mayor starts the countdown.
“Three… two… one!”
The tree explodes with light, gold, white, and silver bursting across the square. The crowd cheers, and Tarryn laughs against my chest.
I hold her tighter, wishing the night could stop right here.
We linger while people drift toward the exits. The mayor thanks Tarryn again for the basket, and a few of my crew wave on their way past.
When the crowd thins and the music softens, I brush a strand of hair from her face. “Ready to head out?”
She glances at the glowing tree. “Yeah. I think so.”
We walk back toward the firehouse through the soft, steady snow. The town hums behind us, music fading, laughter echoing faintly.
When we climb into the truck, the cab fills with the scent of peppermint and her perfume. I start the engine and glance over. “Would you like to come back to my place?”
Her gaze meets mine, steady and sure. “Yeah. I would.”
I exhale, the air misting between us. Outside, the snow thickens, coating the road in pale shimmer. She reaches across the console and rests her hand on my arm.
“Let’s go,” she says.
I shift into drive.
As we pull away, the lights of Paradise fade behind us, the tree still glowing in the rearview mirror. My coat—her coat now—rests around her shoulders, and her smile lingers in the glass reflection.
For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.