Chapter 3
Holly
Ihad a candy cane latte, a snowplow as my carriage, and a gorgeous, thoughtful man by my side.
Merry Christmas to me! This was going to be the best day.
I could try to contain my level of Christmas enthusiasm under normal circumstances, but not today.
Today, we were going full-on Hallmark movie, Santa-Claus-on-crack levels of excitement.
“So where to?” I asked Cole.
Cole had one hand resting on the top of the steering wheel and the other holding his coffee cup.
Maybe it was the double hit of caffeine and sugar in my drink, but watching him drive had me feeling warm and jittery all over.
His strong, capable hand controlling the big truck through the snow with just his palm was so sexy.
“I was thinking we ditch my truck at my place and go for a walk through the village. Check out all the Christmas decorations at the shops, and maybe find some breakfast. What do you think?”
I think I just melted into a puddle of goo on the seat of his truck.
I kept my cool and gave him a nod. He had barely put the truck in park when I was out and into the snow.
I was glad I was in head-to-toe winter gear.
Even where the snow had been plowed or tramped down, it was still deep enough to need good boots.
Cole’s townhouse was only a short walk to the main pedestrian street that ran through the center of the village.
“I think there is a little artisan market today. Let’s go check it out.” He took my hand in his and tucked them both into the pocket of his coat as we set off toward the twinkling lights. “So tell me about you. What have I missed in the eighteen or so years since we finished high school?”
I talked his ear off while we walked. I told him about moving to Vancouver to go to college but deciding that big city life wasn’t for me. I told him about the little bit of traveling I’d done. I told him that my sister had recently gotten married and that I hoped she would make me an aunt soon.
“Where are you working now?” he asked.
“I teach the third grade.”
He laughed and squeezed my hand. “I could not think of a job more perfect for you than teaching kids.”
“Really? And why is that?” I bumped his shoulder with mine.
“Well, let’s see. You’re fun, outgoing, and adventurous. You’re sunny and sweet and always see the best in everything and everyone. And you’re not afraid to just enjoy things. Kids don’t want boring adults; they want someone like you.”
He stopped walking when I turned to face him. “How’d you remember all that stuff about me? I haven’t seen you in so long.”
He ran the thumb of his hand over my cheek. “That doesn’t mean I wasn’t thinking about you.”
Holy Santa.
His eyes dropped to my lips for a moment.
When a group of kids on skis approached, I realized we were blocking the way, and we separated.
I hoped I’d get another chance at kissing him before the day was over.
The smell of freshly baked bread, cinnamon, and vanilla floated through the air, and I tugged Cole in that direction.
There were little booths set up all along the walkway, selling everything from homemade jewelry to local honey.
It was the fresh baking that caught my eye.
I’d never be able to pick. Scones, biscuits, breads, croissants?
I was studying them, but I could feel Cole watching me.
“Hi, can I help you?” The woman running the booth flashed us a genuine smile.
“One of everything, please.” Cole handed her a credit card, and she got to work boxing up our order.
“You didn’t have to buy all of it.”
He shrugged. “I’m hungry, and you love sweets.
I didn’t see any other choice.” His lips landed on my forehead, lingering in a sweet kiss before he turned to collect the bags.
I might have been living in a dream world—a dream world that involved fresh baking.
Karma was making up for my broken arm in a big way.
We found a place to sit and started digging through our treasures. Sweet, savory, cinnamony, if that was even a word. I tried them all. Each one was as good as the last.
“I am stuffed,” I said as I tossed my napkin into the garbage and declared defeat.
“Me too.” He started loading the leftovers back into the bag.
“Although, there is still one more thing I want to taste.” He leaned over the table, slid one hand up the side of my neck, and pressed his lips to mine.
They were soft and surprisingly warm given the weather.
He tasted of sugar and reminded me what it felt like to be sixteen and to have butterflies over a guy for the first time.
I couldn’t get much closer to him between my broken arm and the table, but I tried anyway, leaning forward and sliding my tongue over his.
He let out a low groan of approval that I felt everywhere under my snow pants.
He finally pulled away, only to rest his forehead against mine. “Definitely the sweetest thing I’ve tasted all day.”