Chapter 12 #2
The wave of shared happiness washes over me. This. This is the magic. I beam, scanning the upturned faces illuminated in the tree’s glow – Mrs. Rossi dabbing her eyes, Ben Carter holding his youngest daughter high, Charlie giving me a thumbs-up and a grin.
My gaze instinctively seeks him again. Denton. Tabby is still riding high on his shoulders, pointing and shouting, “Daddy! Daddy! Look! It’s SO SPARKLY!” Her small face is lit with wonder, reflecting the tree’s glow.
Denton’s head is tilted back, looking up at the tree. But only for a moment. His gaze lowers. Finds mine again across the sea of illuminated faces.
He’s not smiling. Not exactly. But the rigid tension in his jaw, the guarded distance in his eyes… it’s softened just a little bit.
His eyes hold mine, reflecting the festive lights, and in that look, I see none of the celebrity reserve, none of the grumpiness. I see a deep, quiet intensity that has nothing to do with the spectacle around us and everything to do with this charged space between us.
Tabby wiggles, demanding his attention. “Daddy! Down! I want Holly!”
The spell breaks, but the connection lingers, humming in the air. Denton carefully lowers Tabby to the ground. She immediately spots me and launches herself through the crowd like a tiny, pink torpedo, weaving expertly between legs.
“Holly! Holly! The tree!” She crashes into my legs, wrapping her arms around my waist. Her little face is flushed with cold and excitement, her eyes shining brighter than the tree. “It’s SO pretty!”
I laugh, the sound bubbling up naturally, and crouch down to her level, hugging her back. “It sure is, sweet pea!”
Denton has followed in Tabby’s wake, moving through the crowd with that quiet, purposeful stride. He stops a few feet away, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. The crowd swirls around him, but he ignores it, his gaze fixed on Tabby and me.
The noise level is still high, with people singing, chatting and laughing, but standing here with him so close, it feels strangely insulated. Like we’re in our own little snow globe.
“She hasn’t stopped talking about it since we got here,” he says, his voice cuts easily through the surrounding din.
He nods towards the tree, then his eyes meet mine again. “You did a good job, Holly. Organizing this. The tree… it’s impressive.”
The compliment, simple and direct, is much more than I expected. And he said it looking straight at me, his voice devoid of its usual dryness or forced neutrality.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice suddenly a little strained. I straighten up, keeping one hand resting lightly on Tabby’s shoulder. “It’s a team effort, really. But… yeah. I love seeing it come together. Seeing everyone’s faces.” I gesture vaguely at the happy crowd.
Tabby tugs on my hand. “Holly! You have to sit with us! We saved you the best spot! Over there!” She points towards a relatively clear patch of snow-dusted grass near the base of the now-glorious spruce, slightly away from the densest crowd. “Daddy put our blanket down! See?”
I look. A dark gray plaid wool blanket is indeed spread neatly on the ground. It looks expensive and utterly out of place on the slightly trampled snow.
Denton follows my gaze, then looks back at me. He doesn’t confirm that he’d like me to join them. He just waits. His expression is unreadable again, but the intense watchfulness is back.
Charlie’s warnings are a frantic buzz in the back of my mind. But looking at Tabby’s hopeful face, then back at Denton… the warnings feel distant, muffled by the twinkling lights and the lingering warmth of his unexpected compliment.
“The best spot, huh?” I smile down at Tabby. “Lead the way!”
Tabby whoops and pulls me forward. Denton falls into step beside us. We navigate the edge of the crowd, stepping over abandoned cocoa cups.
People greet me, wave, call out thanks. Denton walks beside me, close enough that I catch the clean, cold scent of his wool coat mingled with his subtle cologne. He doesn’t engage with anyone else, his focus seemingly on the path ahead, or perhaps… on me.
We reach the blanket. Tabby immediately flops down, patting the space beside her. “Here, Holly! Sit here! Daddy, you sit there!” She points to the other side of her.
Denton lowers himself onto the blanket with surprising grace for someone so large, folding his long legs. He looks vaguely uncomfortable, like a panther trying to lounge on a doily, but he makes the effort.
I sit cross-legged beside Tabby, the cold from the ground seeping through the thick wool blanket. Tabby immediately snuggles into my side, her small body radiating warmth and the faint scent of baby shampoo and marshmallows.
“Look!” She points upwards, her face bathed in the tree’s multicolored glow. “The lights are dancing!”
We look up. The lights do seem to dance, reflected in her wide, awestruck eyes.
Denton sits slightly apart, leaning back on his hands, his gaze fixed upwards. The tree’s lights play across the strong planes of his face, softening the stern lines, catching the dark sweep of his lashes. He looks… almost peaceful.
Tabby chatters softly about the upcoming break and what she hopes Santa brings her this year. Denton listens, making sounds of agreement. He doesn’t say much, but he’s listening to her.
Denton looks at me. Not a quick look, but a deliberate turn of his head.
His eyes meet mine in the dappled light.
The noise of the festival, the crowd of people surrounding us, the looming threat to my bakery…
it all fades into insignificance. There’s just him, the quiet intensity in his gaze, and the shared warmth of Tabby pressed between us.
He doesn’t speak, just continues to look at me.
And then, almost imperceptibly at first, the corner of his mouth lifts.
It’s not the practiced, public smile he’d offered the hockey fans.
It’s smaller. Barely there, really. But it’s real.
Undeniably real. It reaches his eyes, crinkling the corners ever so slightly, transforming his usually stern expression into something warm.
It’s a smile just for me. A quiet acknowledgment. A shared moment in the sparkling glow of the tree.
My heart does a ridiculous, hopeful flip-flop in my chest. All of Charlie’s warnings, all the logic, all the reasons why this is a terrible idea… they evaporate like steam from a hot cocoa mug.
In this quiet bubble, under the festive lights, with Tabby’s trusting warmth against my side and that small, genuine smile curving Denton Blake’s lips… it feels like the first sprinkle on something terrifyingly, beautifully real.
The world narrows down to the soft glow in his eyes and the impossible warmth blooming in my chest. Like the first bite of a gingerbread cookie straight from the oven – sweet, spicy, and utterly irresistible.