Chapter 27 I’m Skating! #2
She swats my chest, still laughing. “Later. There’s one more tree left on the tour.” She escorts me out of her bedroom and down the hall to another room. “This one’s not as extravagant. It’s more of a hodgepodge of all my other leftover ornaments.”
Another tree sits in the corner, but my attention veers left.
“Forget the tree. What is this?” I slip out of Brie’s grasp and stalk toward a row of tables covered in porcelain buildings, tiny streetlamps, and enough fake snow to bury a small country.
“Is this how you’re planning world domination—one miniature city at a time? ”
She laughs. “No. It’s just a small hobby of mine.”
“This isn’t a hobby. This is a holiday takeover.” I lean down, squinting at the little figurines.
“Just wait.”
She moves to the opposite side of the display and flips a switch. The whole village hums to life—buildings glowing, streetlamps flickering, skaters gliding in endless loops across a frozen pond. My jaw drops.
“Hold up.” I point at a square building with Hardware Store painted across the front.
A few figurines down—Coffee Shop. Then, at the end of Main Street, the town square and a rink suspiciously like the one we just left.
My eyes widen. “Wait. This isn’t just a village.
This is Mount Holly. You’ve built a replica of the town. ”
Her gaze flicks to the table as she fiddles with a tiny Santa figurine. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“It’s all right here.” One by one, I point to the buildings. “You have the hardware store, the coffee shop, the diner. There’s a tea shop.”
“We don’t have one of those in Mount Holly.”
“Yeah, that’s because they probably don’t make miniature bars. That’s exactly where the Crooked Reindeer is.”
“Alright, that’s enough. No more analyzing my Christmas village. Isn’t there a hockey game on? We should go watch it.”
I laugh. “Trying to use hockey as a diversion?”
“It’s not as fun as watching you play, but yeah.” She links her fingers with mine and drags me back to the living room.
“Wait—you watched me?”
“I begrudgingly stared at the TV while you skated around showing off.”
“Good to know.”
The warmth in my chest spreads. Maybe she didn’t hate me as much as she wanted me to believe. I drop onto the couch and open an arm. She hesitates a beat before curling against me, soft and warm.
“We’ve come a long way,” I murmur, pressing my lips to her temple. “No more hating each other.”
She aims the remote at the TV. “I kind of miss hating you. This,” she waves between us, “feels unnatural.”
“Get used to it. It’s our new normal.”
Her mouth curves, and she kisses me. I kiss her back—until a blur of motion on the screen catches my eye.
Jason Malone, the right winger for Chicago, propels himself down the ice.
He’s always had killer speed and an even more wicked slapshot.
Malone is one-on-one with Florida’s goalie.
He dekes him and sends the puck into the net. “Yes!”
Brie groans. “I should have known better.” She laughs, shaking her head.
I steal a quick kiss. “Hey, you still get my undivided attention… during commercials.”
“No, no, I did this to myself. But I’m happy right here.” She curls deeper into me.
“I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.” While keeping my gaze locked on the screen, I press another kiss to the top of her head.
By the second period, my eyelids grow heavy.
Brie’s curled up next to me. Her soft, rhythmic breathing almost lulling me to sleep.
I press a kiss to the top of her head before turning my attention back to the TV.
During the next commercial break, I lower my lids for a couple of seconds.
I don’t need to watch a boy band sing about laundry detergent.
I lift my eyelids and blink a few times to clear my vision. The TV comes into focus. The game is long gone—replaced by a blender infomercial. Carefully, I lift my arm from around Brie’s shoulders and stretch my limbs.
Brie stirs awake, stretching her arms above her head. “What time is it?”
I check my phone. “Two in the morning. I should probably get going. Chances are high fewer people will see me leaving now than at seven.”
She stretches, sleepy-eyed and gorgeous. “Good idea. Mrs. Emerson across the street loves to spill the tea. I’d rather not give her an overflowing kettle.”
She rises off the couch, and I do the same. We stroll to the foyer, and I put my coat and shoes on. I wrap an arm around her waist, my fingers brushing warm skin where her sweater rides up. “When can I watch hockey with you again? And maybe not fall asleep.”
“My schedule is pretty busy until after Christmas with the festival. Maybe New Year’s?” She smirks.
“You say that as if you don’t think I’ll wait. New Year’s it is.” Her hands rest on my chest. Bending down, I brush my lips over hers. “Good night, Snowflake.”
“Good night, Logan.”
She opens the garage door for me, and I get in my truck and drive home. Living in Mount Holly is getting better and better every day.