Chapter 24 Something Worth Gossiping About #2
“This looks amazing. I can’t wait to try it.” Brie shoves a forkful of the chicken and wild rice hotdish into her mouth. Her eyes drift closed and she hums like I’ve just served her a meal from a Michelin Star restaurant instead of hotdish. “Oh yeah. This is so good.”
I bite back a grin, shoulders relaxing. Never in my life did I imagine Brie in my kitchen, eating my cooking, and enjoying it.
Halfway through dinner, Josie launches into jokes. “What does a nosy pepper do?” She bounces in her seat while she waits for us to guess.
Brie and I share a look before shrugging. “I don’t know,” we say in unison.
“It gets jalapeno business!” Josie throws her head back in laughter.
Brie giggles.
“That’s a good one,” I say. “I have one for you. What did the snowman order at the Mexican restaurant?”
“What?” Josie asks.
“A brrr-ito.”
Josie cackles, practically falling out of her chair, while Brie just shakes her head with a smile that makes my chest feel too tight.
“It’s a good one.” I wiggle my eyebrows.
Under the table, I stretch my leg—and my foot bumps into something solid.
Brie’s eyes flick up, startled, then soften when she realizes it’s me.
A teasing smile curves her lips. I graze her toes with mine, just a brush, but heat flares through me like I’ve touched a live wire.
She nudges me back playfully, and a pink blush warms her cheeks.
I clear my throat before Josie notices the electricity crackling between us. “Speaking of snowmen, how’d the rest of the contest go?”
Brie sets her fork down, turning toward Josie with a proud grin. “So many great entries—including yours. You’ve got serious snowman-building skills.” She bumps Josie’s shoulder.
The two of them launch into a conversation about cowboy snowmen, glitter glue accessories, and one entry that looked suspiciously like Elvis.
I lean back, half listening, half lost in the way Brie’s laughter lights up the room.
My foot keeps brushing hers, and she doesn’t pull away.
She plays along, toes tangling with mine under the table.
This is exactly what Josie should have had growing up.
Family dinners. Easy laughter. A woman’s voice mixing with ours at the table.
The ache in my chest twists, sharp enough to make me shove my plate away.
“You’re done already?” Brie’s brows pinch.
“Yeah, I had a big lunch.”
She eyes me but doesn’t push. Instead, she finishes her last bite and stands. “Here, let me grab the dishes.”
“I’ve got it. You’re my guest.”
“And you cooked. At least let me help.”
“I’ll help too!” Josie hops up like it’s Christmas morning.
I stare at her suspiciously. “You never volunteer for dishes.” Leaning toward Brie, I whisper, “What have you done to my daughter? You should probably come over more often.”
Brie giggles.
Josie pipes up, “Yes! Dad makes the best pancakes.”
Brie’s eyes sparkle as she turns to me. “Oh, so now we’re moving on to breakfast.”
As I pass Brie, I bend down, my nose running along the shell of her ear, and whisper, “I’m not opposed to making you breakfast.”
Her breath catches, and satisfaction zips through me.
We form an assembly line at the sink—me rinsing, Josie handing things off, Brie sliding them into the dishwasher. It feels… dangerously domestic. Like something I could get used to.
“Brie, you should stay for a movie,” Josie says. “Dad can make popcorn. It’ll be like a slumber party.”
A flicker of hesitancy crosses Brie’s face when she glances at me. Does she want to stay? I’d love to have Brie share my bed, but maybe it’s too much. Too fast. I rest a hand on Josie’s shoulder, and she peers up at me. “I’m sure Brie would like to sleep in her own bed tonight.”
Brie smiles softly. “But I’d love to stay for a movie.”
Josie cheers and bounds into the living room.
Once she’s gone, Brie’s gaze lingers on me. “If I’m overstaying my welcome, just say so.”
“No, I’m enjoying your company. But I hope to have that sleepover someday.”
Brie’s fingertips trace down my arm, and my heart leaps into my throat. “And I hope to get pancakes.”
I’m seconds away from saying to hell with it.
She can stay over, and I’ll cook her all the pancakes she wants in the morning, but I haven’t been with a woman since Brooke, let alone had one stay the night.
Josie seems to like Brie, but I don’t know how she would take my being with someone else.
Sure, she’s only a kid, but she’s my daughter.
What I do affects her as well. I can’t just leap. Not yet.
After making the popcorn and dumping it into a giant bowl, we stroll into the living room where Josie already has the movie up on the screen and has turned the couch into Blanket Kingdom.
“The Taylor Swift Eras Tour.” Brie nudges me with her elbow, smirking. “Never pegged you for a Swiftie.”
“I do it for Josie,” I deadpan.
“Dad can sit here, and then Brie can sit here.” Josie pats the cushion next to my spot.
“Where are you going to sit?” I ask.
“On the other side next to Brie.”
Brie points toward the recliner in the corner. “Maybe I should sit there.”
“No, sit here for optimal TV viewing. It’s the best spot in the house. At least that’s what Dad says.”
Brie bites her lip, trying not to laugh. “Well, I can’t argue with the best spot in the house.”
The three of us squeeze in. Brie shifts, her thigh brushing mine, and a jolt of heat shoots through me.
God help me. Her scent, her warmth, her smile tugging at the corner of her lips—it takes every ounce of my being to keep my eyes glued to the TV instead of her mouth.
A month ago, we were mortal enemies. Now?
The only war I’m fighting is keeping my hands to myself.
During the first five songs, Josie shimmies on the couch, Brie’s belting lyrics into an invisible mic, and I’m tapping my foot like I’m not secretly the biggest Swiftie in the room. If anyone asks, I’ll deny it.
Halfway through, Josie hops up. “I’m going to grab something from my room.”
“Want me to pause it?” I ask.
She waves me off. “I know what happens.” Then she scampers upstairs, leaving me alone with Brie.
“She’s a great kid,” Brie says softly. “You did an amazing job raising her.”
“Thanks. But honestly? She came out amazing all on her own.” My voice drops, unguarded.
Two more songs pass with no sign of Josie.
“I’m going to check on her.” I jog upstairs and peek in her room.
It’s mostly dark, with the only light coming from a small nightlight in the corner.
Blankets drape over the bed, forming the perfect outline of a tiny body.
My daughter is plotting something but now is not the time for a discussion.
Silently, I close the door and return downstairs.
“I guess she went to bed.”
“Maybe the snowman marathon wore her out,” Brie says, tucking one leg under herself on the couch.
“Maybe.” I drop onto the cushion beside her. “Though if I let her, she’d be awake until four in the morning playing on her tablet. How is everything else going with the festival?”
Brie laughs, then sighs. “Good. Stressful. But good.”
“I thought you thrived at this planning stuff. What has you so stressed?”
She fiddles with a loose strand of hair. “For starters, Mrs. Kingsley has given me impossible task after impossible task, which makes it slightly more difficult on top of organizing the festival.”
“Like what?”
“After she heard about Emma St. Claire being in town, she insisted I get an interview with her.”
“You did that. So it wasn’t impossible.” I rest my arm on the back of the couch.
“But it also wasn’t the most newsworthy blog post. I wanted the focus to be on the festival, not my personal life.
Mrs. Kingsley also wanted me to find a new Santa, which, let me tell you, was not an easy feat two weeks before Christmas.
And on top of it all, I’m still trying to prove I deserve the event coordinator position.
I’ve always been second place. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.
And now you waltz back into town with your carnival, and suddenly I’m scrambling to keep my dream alive. ”
“I didn’t mean to take the spotlight off you by any means. This was something I needed to do for myself and Josie.”
“It’s okay. Luckily, I had a few extra activities tucked up my sleeve to help draw a crowd.
But this is my one shot. Possibly my last shot at getting this position.
The Holly Jolly Festival needs to be the biggest and best event this town has ever seen.
Or I might as well throw in the towel and give up. ”
I reach over, brushing my fingers along her shoulder until they tangle in her hair.
“I’ve been a competitor my entire life, especially with hockey, and I think the one thing that made me even better was competition.
Made me sharper. Someone set the bar, and I figured out how to shatter it.
Don’t think of it as me ruining your chance, but I’m pushing you to exceed your expectations.
” Her chin tips up, eyes locking on mine.
Warm, defiant, vulnerable. “I think you might be a little surprised at what you can do.” She nods but doesn’t say anything.
I hope she believes me. I didn’t come back to Mount Holly to ruin any chance she had with the festival and a promotion. Poor timing.
She leans against the back of the couch and tips her head toward the ceiling. “You know, I always loved this house. Well, from the outside, anyway. I never got a chance to see the inside until I brought you home from the Crooked Reindeer.”
I mimic her pose. “Is that so? What made you love it so much?”
“The wrap-around porch,” she says dreamily. “I pictured myself with a book on the swing in the summer or stringing garland and lights around the railing at Christmas.”
I turn to face her and lower my voice. “I have the swing in the garage. All it takes is a couple of hooks.”
Her eyes flick to mine, laughter bubbling in her throat. “Are you talking dirty to me right now?”
I lean closer, brushing her knee with mine. “I might even have a spare set of lights out there too.”
She snorts, her cheeks flushing. “You really do know the path to a girl’s heart.” But then she sighs, reluctant. “It’s late. I should head home. Tomorrow’s the cookie bake-off, and I’ll be busy making sure Mrs. Walters doesn’t bake with her son’s cannabutter again.”
I chuckle. “I would’ve paid money to see that judging.”
“Nonstop giggles,” she confirms, shaking her head.
“Let me walk you to your car.”
“You don’t have to. It’s just around the corner.”
“It’s dark.”
“And it’s Mount Holly.”
“Will you just let me walk you to your vehicle?”
She rolls her eyes but smiles. “Fine. If you insist.”
“Let me just go check on Josie real quick.” I rise to my feet and jog up the stairs.
When I reach her door, I twist the knob and peek my head in.
Josie’s blanket is puffed up like a tent.
“I know you’re not sleeping.” She peeks her head from under the blanket, a sheepish grin on her face.
If I had to guess, she’s playing on her tablet.
“I’m going to walk Brie to her car. When I get back, we’ll talk. ”
“Okay.”
I shake my head, but I can’t fight the smile on my lips.
She’s too smart for her own good. And I’m going to be in trouble.
Back downstairs, Brie’s waiting at the door, coat zipped and cheeks rosy.
I tug on my boots, shove a knit cap over my head, and lead her outside.
Our breaths curl in white clouds as we walk shoulder to shoulder down the quiet street.
“I had a really good time tonight,” she says. “You’ll have to thank Josie for inviting me.”
“I’m glad you came.” Our fingers brush once, twice, and sparks skitter through me.
At her SUV, she hits the remote start. The engine rumbles to life. I open the driver’s door, but instead of stepping back, I brace one hand against the frame and cage her in with the other.
Her breath catches.
“I want nothing more than to kiss you goodnight,” I murmur.
Her lashes flutter. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Someone could see.”
“If the neighbors are watching from behind their curtains, we should at least give them something worth gossiping about.” I rest my forehead against hers, her lips so close I can feel the whisper of her breath.
She leans in first, closing the distance. Her mouth meets mine, soft at first, then deeper, warmer. She melts into me, and every muscle in my body screams to pull her closer, to forget the streetlights, the neighbors, the risk. But I force myself to keep it PG-13.
Reluctantly, I pull away. “Night, Brie.”
“Goodnight, Logan,” she whispers before climbing into her SUV.
I close the door, watch her taillights fade into the night, and laugh when I spot the rustling of a curtain across the street. Mount Holly never misses a thing.
Back inside, I head upstairs to Josie’s room. She’s propped against her headboard, blanket pulled up to her chin, eyes wide with fake innocence.
“So,” I say, sitting on the edge of her bed, “what was that all about?”
She shrugs. “I wanted you two to spend time together.”
“Is that why you invited her over to make snowmen and dinner?”
“No. I actually needed help. Your snowman skills are… bad.” She holds up her hands in a circle. “This is what a snowman should look like. Yours looks like this.” She squishes her fingers into an oval.
“Snowmen come in all shapes and sizes.”
“Only yours.”
I laugh. “Fair enough.”
She tilts her head. “Do you like Brie?”
The question hits harder than a shoulder to the ribs. I consider lying, but she’s too smart for that. “Yeah. I do.”
Her grin is pure mischief. “I think you really like her. You get this dorky face whenever she’s around.”
“I do not!” Do I? I never noticed. Then again, I’m too busy staring at Brie whenever she’s near to know what my facial muscles are doing.
“Yes, you do. It looks like this.” She cocks her head to the side. Her eyes go as wide as her grin, and she bats her eyelashes. “Grandma says she hasn’t seen you laugh and smile as much as you have when you’re around Brie.”
“So Grandma said that, huh?”
“Yup, but it’s true. I see it too.”
I groan. “Sometimes I think you’re too smart for your own good.”
She smirks. “One of us has to be.”
I press a kiss to her head. “Go to sleep, Peanut. Love you.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
When I close her door and lean against the railing at the top of the stairs, my chest squeezes. I haven’t felt like this since Brooke. And the truth? It terrifies me.