CHAPTER 8
***
Annie
We travel down a long driveway lined with pine trees and wooden fences as far as the eye can see. The sleigh glides to a stop in front of the Winslow Farm entrance, and I stare in disbelief at how much it feels like we’ve been transported to another time and place. The farm is straight out of a Christmas movie, with snow-dusted evergreens framing a long cabin that serves as the main office. Warm golden light spills from the frost covered windows, casting a welcoming aura around the building. It’s the kind of glow that, if I didn’t know better, makes me want to believe in holiday magic, even though I’ve outgrown the fairytale of Christmas lore.
Sam steps out of the sleigh and I pull my scarf tighter around my neck, warding off the chill. He offers me his hand and for reasons I can’t explain, whimsy takes over and I jump from the sleigh into his waiting arms. He catches me around the waist and whirls me around with my feet dangling as I giggle. This is the Sam I know and love—the one who intuitively knows me even when I take him by surprise.
My breath fogs in the chilly air as I glance down at Sam’s handsome face. His broad smile warms me from the inside out. He loosens his grip and I slide easily down his body, the friction stirring something deep and primal within my belly. The way he looks at me and laces his fingers with mine when we’re face to face, staring into each other's eyes, gives me a flicker of hope. Maybe we aren’t as broken as it felt this morning when he fled the bedroom.
We walk hand and hand into the main office. The room is warm and inviting with the scent of pine and cinnamon. A huge Christmas tree illuminated with sparkling lights and handmade ornaments fills a corner of the room. Garlands of greenery drape the windows and doorways. A crackling fireplace snaps and pops a greeting as we enter.
“Welcome to Winslow Farm. I’m Honey.” A cheerful woman dressed from head to toe in a red elf costume lined with white faux fur and adorned with bells greets us as we approach the desk. “You must be our group from the silo across the way. Did you enjoy the sleigh ride over?”
We all chime in with smiles, nods, and variations in the affirmative. Honey’s eyes sparkle along with her million watt smile.
“Excellent. I have your itinerary for the day along with a map of the farm.” Honey hands papers and wristbands to Ryan, who passes the ID bands to each of us. “You’ll start with ice skating at the pond with Holly and Jasper. After that, over to Santa’s Workshop for some arts and crafts with Cupcake before lunch. We have a cozy table reserved for you at the cafe. Sugar’s our resident baker. She makes the best desserts.”
“I like this place.” I tug on Sam’s sleeve. “But it’s making me hungry.”
“You’re always hungry for dessert.” Sam dots my nose with his fingertip, and it feels like we’re back to our old selves. Oddly, that feels pretty darn good.
“Keep your eyes peeled for the big man himself,” Honey says as she leads us to a side exit that opens to the winteriest winter wonderland of them all. “Santa likes to pop in where he’s least expected.”
The group exchanges delighted glances, anticipation landing somewhere around fifteen on a scale of one to ten. I love Christmas but haven’t been this excited for it since I was a kid. I’m also relishing the idea of spending it with Sam.
“Thank you, Honey,” Julia says.
“Follow the path to your left all the way to the pond,” Honey holds the door open for us as we parade out into the snow. “Just follow the sound of jingle bells.”
As we head outside, I fall in step with Sam, our fingers interlocked in an inseparable bond. A shiver slithers up my spine as he runs his thumb back and forth across the top of my hand. It’s intimate and private, a little secret between the two of us.
Sam leans in close as we follow behind the other two couples. His breath warms my ear as it tickles my temple. I’m hyper aware of his proximity, hovering protectively over me. “You ready to show them who’s boss on the ice,” he chuckles, knowing I’m a bumbling fool when my feet aren’t flat on the ground.
“You know I suck at this,” I whisper. I glance at him, my heart doing a little flip flop when our eyes meet. “I’ll try not to make you fall.”
“If you plan on sucking, you’re the only one I want to go down with.” His lips brush against the shell of my ear as he whispers, his voice thick with innuendo I’d be hard pressed to ignore.
My insides swirl and spin as my pulse picks up speed. Is Sam flirting with me? I mean, we engage in witty banter all the time, but actual flirtation? That’s a line we don’t cross, at least since the incident on my twenty-first birthday. After this morning, it’s something I never thought we’d do again.
We continue along the path, and it opens to a stunning view of the ice skating pond, where happy couples and giggling children make figure eights on the glistening surface. The pond reaches far across the property to rows of towering pine trees in the distance. The area designated for skating is roped off with red and white candy cane polls draped with twinkling lights and greenery. It’s like something out of a dream—magical, mesmerizing, and surreal.
We don our skates and for a moment I almost believe the magic of this place will carry me and my skates across the pond like an Olympic gold medalist, flawless in my pirouettes, double axels, and plies. But my euphoric bubble bursts the moment I stand, then wobble, then fall face forward into Sam’s chest.
“Oof,” Sam grunts as I plow into him, a gurgled scream erupting from my throat.
He catches me with his arms under my armpits and I hang on him like a ragdoll while trying to find my footing. I’m glorious in my ineptitude, but in my defense, humans weren’t meant to balance on eighth-inch wide metal blades. It’s a recipe for disaster, though, it feels pretty good being rescued by a knight in shining armor.
The warmth of Sam’s grip grounds me. As I straighten to stand, my chest presses against Sam’s and the frosty air between us swirls like fairy dust. My eyes flit from the deep recesses of his to his pale pink lips. I resist the urge to act on impulse and inhale an ice cold breath instead, realizing that no matter what happens tomorrow, next week, or next year, I want today to be as carefree as the day we met. Today I won’t worry about fibbing to my boss, overthinking her job offer, or Sam’s leggy supermodels—and definitely not miserable morning afters and botched kisses.
“Let’s make the most of today,” Sam says, as if reading my mind. I nod and squeeze his hand.
“I’d like that,” I say, still reeling from the way my body reacts to him, tickling and tingling in all my nooks and crannies.
“Let’s show them how this is done, shall we?” Sam grins. “Can you balance?”
“I think so,” I say as I clutch his jacket in my fist. “Just don’t let go, okay?”
“I’ve always got you, Annie.” He places a light kiss on my forehead, and I swear the heat that shoots through my body is enough to melt a hole in the ice.
***
Sam
Annie and I took a few spills on the ice, but each tumble was a chance to hold her close, to laugh together and leave the world behind. The sound of her laughter still rings in my ears and plays on my heart as we leave the rink behind, along with the worries we carried to the farm today.
We walk through the bustling crowds, taking in the picturesque winter wonderland surrounding us. Hannah and Gary walk hand in hand alongside Julia and Ryan in front of us. Julia glances over her shoulder every now and again, her eyes crinkling as she smiles. Annie and I have pulled off the charade of being a couple, but I want the dream to be real. If life were anything like this farm and its fairy tale imagery, the fantasy of the two of us would be a reality.
Winslow Farm is straight out of a dream, with twinkling lights illuminating snow covered paths, and elves straight out of the North Pole making the whole farm run like a well-oiled machine. Children, bundled in bright scarves and mittens, build snowmen with carrot noses and pebble smiles.
“I haven’t made a snowman in years,” Annie says as we pass by a curly-headed little girl with a toothy smile. She pats her gloved hands along the surface of a snowball she’s rolled into the size of her head.
“Winter of freshman year,” I recall. “The winter festival fundraiser event.”
“Yes!” Annie turns into my side, grinning ear to ear with pink cheeks and a red nose as bright as Rudolph’s. “If we hadn’t gotten carried away, we would have won first place.”
If I hadn’t insisted on making the snowman so tall, it wouldn’t have ended up top-heavy. When I hoisted Annie on my shoulders to place the top hat on its head, I didn’t steady myself. Annie wobbled, I overcompensated, and the whole thing came crashing down on us both, burying us under a pile of snow. Losing was my fault, but it’s nice that Annie always counts our wins and losses as a group effort. We’ve always been a team.
“But we had fun and helped raise money for the children’s toy fund.” Win or lose, there’s always a bright spot when Annie and I tackle things together.
“That we did.” Annie squeezes my hand as we continue behind the others.
Everywhere I look, couples stroll hand in hand, their faces lit with the kind of happiness that only the holiday season can bring. Wreaths adorned with red ribbons, pinecones, and holly berries hang on every door, fence post, and window, offering an explosion of festive color against the snowy backdrop.
As we near Santa’s Workshop, the scent of pine, cinnamon and sweetness fills the air. My mouth waters thinking about the famous sugar cookies Gary mentioned from the brochure. I can’t wait to hit the cafe for lunch and a sweet treat. I glance at Annie, and a pang of hunger rumbles low in my gut. It’s funny how happiness can make a man ravenous for the woman holding court in his heart. But now’s not the time to reveal those desires. Annie and I agreed to make the most of today, and I intend to keep my word. There will be time for a heart-to-heart when everyone turns in for the night.
I spot an elderly couple near the workshop entrance dressed in full Santa and Mrs. Claus regalia. Santa’s snowy white beard flows to the collar of his red and white suit, trimmed with the whitest fur that appears impossibly soft. His cheeks are rosy and full, glowing with a warmth that captures the magic that swirls around us. He grins our way, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint behind the round, steel-rimmed spectacles perched on his nose. His frames shimmer with a polished gleam, framing glittering eyes with a thousand secrets—eyes that seem to see straight into the heart.
Mrs. Claus’ silver hair is pinned beneath a bonnet adorned with holly berries, the epitome of holiday cheer. She wears a festive dress made of red and green plaid with layers of lace. Her apron’s dusted with sprinkles of flour as if she’s come straight from baking in the kitchen.
“Well, what have we here?” Santa’s deep, mirthful voice draws me in and stops me in my tracks. Annie hesitates while the others continue inside. Santa’s gaze flickers between Annie and me, a mysterious smile playing on his lips. “And what would you two like for Christmas this year?”
Annie blushes, her cheeks turning pinker than before. “Oh, we’re too old for Christmas wishes,” she says, her voice shy and uncertain, like she’s suddenly ten years old again. It’s endearing and a reminder of one of the reasons I fell in love with her so long ago.
Santa chuckles and waves away the idea of forsaking Christmas wishes. “Ah, but wishes don’t have an age limit, my dear. The magic of Christmas is alive in everyone who dares to believe.” He reaches for Annie’s hand and folds both of his hands around hers. “Wishes can only come true if you wish for them.”
He winks, and years of laugh lines crinkle around the outer edges of his eyes and mouth. His forehead crackles into a thousand tiny lines, etching his face with years of timeless wisdom. There’s something about him, something that makes the air around us feel a little more enchanted and full of mystique.
I glance at Annie, and for a moment, the world slows down. The crowds, the lights, the snow—it all fades into the background. I hardly notice that Santa’s released Annie’s hand until the scent of freshly baked cookies tickles my nose.
“A little something sweet for the both of you,” Mrs. Claus says, her voice as comforting as a grandmother’s embrace. Her gentle hands cradle a tray of cookies, each one perfect, inviting with the scent of cinnamon and sugar wafting around her. “It’s said that whoever shares a cookie from Santa’s batch will share a bond that lasts a lifetime.”
Annie and I reach for a cookie, our fingers landing on the same one. “You take this one,” I say.
“You must share it,” Mrs. Claus says. “The magic is in the first one you choose.”
Annie gives Mrs. Claus a gracious smile, then breaks the cookie in half. It’s soft and warm, warmer than it should be outside in the cold. I take a bite, and the cookie is worth every bit of the hype. It carries the perfect blend of sugar and spice with its crumbly, cake-like texture. As I savor the bite, I swear it tingles in my belly like magic’s casting a mischievous spell.
“Shall we, dear?” Santa links his arm with Mrs. Claus’ and winks, his eyes still twinkling with mysterious magic. He glances over his shoulder before leaving the path. “Remember, Christmas wishes have a way of coming true, especially when they’re made from the heart.”
Annie and I watch the merry couple disappear along the winding path. I can’t shake the feeling that we’ve witnessed something extraordinary. The day feels brighter, lighter, and a little more special. I glance at Annie, her eyes wide with wonder. I know I’m not the only one who felt something magical.
“We should catch up with the others,” I say, taking Annie’s hand. We head into the workshop and join the others, still pondering what just occurred.
“There you are,” Julia says as she glances up from the wreath she’s putting together. “We thought you skipped out on us.”
“We had a little impromptu chat with Santa and Mrs. Claus outside the door,” Annie says. “You should have stopped before coming in. Mrs. Claus offered us one of her famous cookies.”
“We must have just missed them,” Hannah says, disappointed.
“You know I’d have stopped for cookies,” Gary says, rubbing his stomach.
An odd tingle creeps up my spine. How could they have missed Santa and Mrs. Claus? They were right by the door, practically impossible to overlook. The others walked right past them.
“You didn’t see them?” I glance around the group, baffled. “You passed them on your way inside. They were dressed in a red suit and a red and green dress. Mrs. Claus had a silver tray with cookies.”
Four pairs of eyes stare back at me, as confused as I am. They look at each other, shaking their heads. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I imagined the whole thing, but Annie and I were together. I glance at her, and we exchange a puzzled look. Her expression mirrors my own, as if we’re both trying to unravel the mystery of what just happened
But then a sparkling fleck at the corner of Annie’s mouth captures my attention. I lean in closer, and I’ll be damned, a cookie crumb lingers there. Annie’s eyelids droop as her gaze falls to my lips. Without thinking, I brush my fingers along her jaw, and she tilts her chin in response. Before either of us has time to second-guess, my lips find hers in a kiss that’s as sweet and warm as fresh sugar cookies straight from the oven.
Whatever happens next, one thing is clear—I’m starting to believe in the magic of Christmas again.