Epilogue
Eve
Six months later…
If someone had told me a year ago that Holly Ridge would be crawling with twice as many tourists as last year, plus camera crews and boom mics, I would’ve laughed in their face and assumed their hot cocoa was spiked with something a little stronger.
Yet here we are—our sleepy Christmas town turned into a year-round film set, bustling with producers, PAs, and the occasional runaway reindeer.
“Eve, the lighting rig needs to shift ten degrees!” one of my associate producers shouts.
“And we’re short a volunteer for the B-roll scene at the gingerbread stand!” another production assistant calls out.
A yelp comes from the edge of the square as Selena looks at me with a panicked expression. “Oh my god! Blitzen just ate the entire Costco box of candy canes!”
“I warned you not to let Blitzen anywhere near the food. Especially the sweets.” With a sigh, I pull out my keys and hand them to Selena. “I have an extra case of candy canes in my office. Go.”
She takes my keys and runs toward our studio offices which are thankfully, only a couple blocks away.
I press my index finger to my temple as I scan my notes, while around me Holly Ridge hums with the energy of a production set.
And then, as if on cue, the grumpy growl I know better than my own heartbeat cuts through the chaos.
“I told you I’m not wearing this damn sweater,” Luke says flatly, standing in the middle of the square with a microphone pack clipped to his flannel and an expression that says he’d rather wrestle a bull elk than deal with yet another wardrobe assistant.
I don’t even look up. “You’re wearing it.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.” I make a note on my clipboard and glance at him, and oh, he’s really digging in today—arms crossed, jaw tight, glaring down at the poor intern holding the world’s most aggressively festive red sweater.
I almost laugh, but fight the urge.
“You put me in that thing, Eve, and half the country will turn off the TV. Farmers don’t wear sweaters with sequined snowmen.”
I smirk. “Farmers who host television shows about saving other farmers do.”
That earns me a glower so sharp it could cut tinsel.
But here’s the thing: he’ll put the sweater on.
He’ll grumble and complain and probably mutter something about the downfall of his masculinity, but in the end, he’ll do it—because Luke Dawson may hate sequins, but he loves this.
Loves the work. Loves that people are listening to him.
Loves that he gets to make a difference in the lives of his fellow farmers.
And… he loves me.
Though right now, you wouldn’t know it based on his scowl.
“It’s in the middle of July,” he snaps.
“Yes, but these introductions are going to be woven into the filming we do this winter on location on the actual farms all around the country. And this segment is a town ugly sweater party… So you need to look cold. And festive.”
“Fine,” he mutters finally, grabbing the sweater and yanking it over his head with all the grace of a bear wrestling a tent. “But if this thing sheds glitter on my beard, I’m burning it.”
I grin, unable to stop myself. “Merry Christmas to you too, Santa.”
Before Luke can even finish grumbling about the glitter, Blitzen decides to make a scene. Again.
The reindeer lets out a grunt, plants her hooves, and refuses to budge while the handlers tug on her lead. A cameraman tries to angle around her, and Blitzen takes that as an invitation to lower her head and swipe the boom mic with her antlers. The crew scatters like it’s a charging bull.
“Someone bribe her with candy canes!” I call, juggling my clipboard and a roll of gaffer tape as if that’s going to help.
“She ate all the candy canes!” my AP calls back.
Luke rushes in like the reindeer whisperer he is, pulling carrots out of his pockets for her.
Blitzen calms down, taking the snack from Luke’s palm as my boyfriend grabs hold of her reins, gaining control back.
Luke just shakes his head, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like, “This is why I liked farming better when nobody was watching.”
I laugh nervously, but inside, my stomach is already twisting.
A lot is riding on the success of our two new shows.
The network wants to build more off of them, but we have a lot to prove first. And our town needs this.
The businesses have been thriving and it’s all thanks to the new production studio.
My parent’s lodge is bursting at the seams with tourists, the crew is pulling twelve-hour days, and now Holly Ridge isn’t just Holly Ridge anymore—it’s a brand, a set, a business.
And I’m supposed to be the one holding it all together.
What the hell is taking Selena so long? I’m about to run down to the office myself to grab more candy canes when a strong hand tugs mine.
“Hey.” Luke’s voice is low, calm, steady. It cuts through the noise better than any megaphone. He pulls me just off to the side of the square, away from the chaos of cameras and cables.
“Luke—” I start, my brain still running three lists at once.
He squeezes my hand. “What do you say you, me, and Blitzen take a break? I think we all need a five.”
I blink up at him. His eyes are warm, not the icy blue the rest of the town thinks belongs to a permanent grump. Right now, they’re molten.
“I can’t take a break right now. There’s a million things I still have to do. The tree doesn’t have the star on top. Kraft services hasn’t finished setting up yet. Sound check hasn’t been done—”
“Eve, breathe,” he says simply. “You’ve done enough.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “You mean I’ve done enough panicking for one day?”
“I mean you’ve done more than enough, period.
” His thumb brushes over my knuckles, rough but careful.
“Look around, Eve. You did this. The inn’s booked solid.
This town’s buzzing like it hasn’t in decades.
” He hesitates, like the words are heavy, but then they fall out anyway.
“You carved out a life for us that has the best of not both worlds, but all worlds. I still get to work with my reindeer and help Aunt May. We get to live in our hometown, but still travel the world while doing fulfilling work we both love. None of this would have happened without you. And me… You gave me back more than I ever thought I’d have.
A reason to get up in the morning. A reason to give a damn. ”
The lump in my throat is instant. I blink too fast, trying not to tear up on camera. “Luke…”
He shakes his head before I can protest. “You’re not failing. You’re not falling short. You’ve already done it. You saved the inn. You saved this town. And hell, you even saved me.”
I breathe out, slow and uneven, and for the first time all day the frantic buzzing in my head quiets.
The chaos is still swirling around us—Beside Luke, Blitzen is chewing on the tinsel from Luke’s ugly sweater—but in this little bubble Luke’s made for me, I can finally breathe.
“You’re right,” I say. “Let’s take five. ”
He squeezes my hand, his mouth twitching with that half-smile that’s all mischief and steel. “Good girl, Songbird.”
Heat skitters through me at his words, at my nickname, and before I can retort, he tugs me gently down the hill, away from the cameras, the chatter, the chaos.
Beneath our feet, the faux snow of our set changes to lush grass.
Waiting at the edge of the property is my dad’s old sleigh, polished to a shine and dressed up in garlands like it knows today is something special.
Only one reindeer is hitched to the front—Princess Sparkles, the calf I helped birth last December.
Except he’s not so small anymore, his coat glossy, his dark eyes alert.
“Princess Sparkles!” I gasp, instantly breaking into a grin. He nuzzles me like he remembers, and I scratch behind his ears, my chest aching with a sudden, unexpected rush of affection. “Are we using him in today’s filming? I didn’t see him on the schedule.”
Luke’s watching me, his expression softer than I’ve ever seen it as he hitches Blitzen to the sleigh beside Princess Sparkles. “Nah. I just brought him out to socialize him a bit. I think he’s going to make a great addition to our petting zoo for when kids come to the farm.”
“Good.” I snuggle his nose one more time before letting Luke help me into the sleigh, steadying me with strong hands.
I settle into the sleigh and take a long, deep inhale of the warm, summer air, expecting to find Luke sitting beside me, only when I turn to my right, he isn’t.
Instead, I find him lowering to one knee on the ground.
For a heartbeat, I don’t understand what I’m seeing.
My brain stutters, refusing to connect the dots—Luke Dawson, mountain of a man, rugged and stubborn as the Rockies themselves, is kneeling.
In front of me. In the grass. While wearing the most hideous Christmas sweater, because I made him put it on in the dead of summer.
The world seems to tilt.
“Luke,” I whisper, my voice barely there.
He doesn’t hesitate. His breath hangs in clouds between us, his hands braced on his knee, his eyes fixed on me with that unshakable steadiness that always manages to undo me. “You already gave me the only thing I ever wanted—you.”
The words slam into me, and suddenly my throat burns. I clutch the edge of the sleigh like it can hold me together, because oh God, he’s doing this. We’re doing this.
His voice dips lower, rawer, like he’s stripped everything else away: “But I’d be an idiot not to ask if you’d make it official.”
My heart is hammering so hard I can hear it in my ears. Somehow, one of our fake snowflakes, actually potato flakes, drifts lazily between us, catching in his hair, in his lashes. He looks like he belongs to this moment, carved out of winter and truth and something fierce enough to scare me.
“Eve Winters,” he says, steady as stone, “will you marry me?”
I can’t breathe. Or maybe I’m breathing too much, shallow and ragged, because all at once every version of my life—LA, Holly Ridge, the inn, the chaos, the fights, the laughter, him—all collapse into this single, blinding point.
Tears prick hot at the corners of my eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” I choke out, laughing even as a sob cuts through. “Completely ridiculous.”
His mouth quirks, hopeful but uncertain, and that cracks me wide open. I press a trembling hand over my lips, shaking my head at him, because he has no idea, no idea how impossible he is, how much I love him.
“Yes,” I breathe, and then stronger, clearer, as if that word is the only one that’s ever mattered. “Yes, of course I will marry you.”
Luke launches to his feet, climbing into the sleigh. He glides his arms around my waist and pulls me in just enough to press a deep, steady kiss to my lips. My knees wobble and my heart does a flip, but he just smiles against mine, letting the world fall away for a heartbeat.
I barely have time to catch my breath when Princess Sparkles and Blitzen snort, nudging the sleigh forward. My stomach lurches with the memory of our last runaway sleigh on Christmas Eve, but Luke’s already on it, hands firm on the reins. Unlike last year, his confidence is steady, calm, playful.
“Ready, Mrs. Claus?” he murmurs, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
I wrap my arms around him, laughing as the sleigh launches forward, the bells jingling and the sound of hooves stamping the ground beneath us.
“Guess we finally figured it out!” I shout over the chaos, giddy and wild.
Luke grins, leaning down to press a quick, warm kiss to my temple before tilting his head and capturing my mouth. It’s sweet and messy and perfect all at once, and for the first time I feel like the world has finally caught up with us.
The sleigh slides to a smooth stop, reins in his hands. “Mrs. Claus looks good on you, you know?” he mutters, voice low, teasing, but full of everything he feels.
I laugh again, because yes—she does. “I agree. But you know what?” I whisper. “I think Santa looks even better on me, don’t you think?” I ask, suggestively.
He smirks, brushing a potato flake from my hair, and leans in so close I can feel the warmth of his breath.
His eyes burn into mine—heated, possessive, and entirely his own—as if daring me to look away.
The world narrows to just us and I swear I can feel the spark of every unspoken word between us.
“Careful, Mrs. Claus… I might just let you run my North Pole from now on.”