11. Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
Bella
I woke up with a start, my heart racing as I remembered the events of last night. The kiss. Devon. The s’mores disaster. It all felt like a dream, but the lingering scent of woodsmoke in my hair told me it was very real.
Pushing back the covers, I padded over to the window. The world outside was blanketed in white, the morning sun turning the snow into a sea of diamonds. It was breathtaking. The perfect morning for an outdoor blog.
“Rise and shine, Maple!” I called out, unable to contain my excitement. Maple lifted her head from her bed, giving me a look that clearly said, “Five more minutes, or I’m revoking your dog mom privileges.”
I laughed, reaching down to ruffle her fur. “Come on, lazybones. We’ve got a big day ahead of us! There’s a wishing tree waiting for us to make internet history!”
As I got dressed, my mind whirled with possibilities. The almost-kiss had changed everything, hadn’t it? Or had it? Devon had been so quiet afterward, but that little peck on the cheek... My stomach did a somersault just thinking about it.
I shook my head, trying to focus. Today was about the blog showcasing the guesthouse’s history. I couldn’t let my personal feelings get in the way of that, even if those feelings involved a certain grumpy ex-boyfriend with an annoyingly perfect bedhead.
Downstairs, I found Devon in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee. His hair was indeed tousled from sleep, and I had to resist the urge to run my fingers through it. Or mess it up even more. For aesthetic purposes, of course.
“Morning.” I couldn’t help it when the biggest smile spread across my face. Great. Maybe I should wear a sign that says, “I totally can’t stop thinking about you kissing me.”
Devon looked up, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Morning. Sleep well?”
I nodded, trying to push down the feelings. “Like a baby. If babies had sugar-fueled dreams about viral blog posts and wishing trees.”
He chuckled, the sound sending a warm tingle down my spine. “Speaking of which, when do you want to head out?”
“As soon as possible,” I said, pouring myself a cup of coffee. “The light’s perfect right now, and I want to catch that magical morning glow.”
Devon raised an eyebrow. “Magical morning glow, huh? Well, I’m ready when you are.”
I nearly stumbled over my feet, trying to hurry and slip my shoes on. “Let me grab my coffee and camera bag.”
As we made our way to the wishing tree, I couldn’t help but sneak glances at Devon. He seemed different today—more relaxed, almost playful.
The ancient wishing tree loomed before us, its snow-dusted branches reaching toward the sky like nature’s own version of a selfie stick. I fumbled with my phone, trying to secure it to the tripod with gloved hands.
“Need some help there?” Devon’s deep voice rumbled behind me, a hint of amusement in his tone.
I glanced over my shoulder, catching the ghost of a smile on his lips. My cheek tingled, remembering the brief kiss from last night. “I’ve got this, thank you very much. Some of us weren’t born with ski poles for arms.”
He chuckled, moving closer to adjust the tripod. “Ski poles for arms? Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?”
“I’ll let you figure that out,” I teased, trying to ignore how my heart raced at his proximity.
With the camera set up, I took a deep breath and plastered on my brightest smile. “Hey, everyone! Welcome back to the ‘Snowbound Survival Guide.’ Today, we’re diving into the magical history of the Montgomery guesthouse’s wishing tree.”
I turned to Devon, gesturing for him to step into the frame. He hesitated for a moment, then moved forward, the old box cradled in his arms. The leather-bound journal balanced precariously on top.
I grabbed the journal and held it in front of the camera. “We uncovered these ornaments and this journal while searching through the attic. Some of the entries date back to the mid-1940‘s.”
“Legend has it that couples who hang ornaments on its branches and make a wish together will find their happily ever after.” I could feel Devon’s eyes on me. When I glanced his way, his expression was soft, almost tender. It made my stomach do a little flip.
“Now,” I said, turning back to the camera, “let’s hang some ornaments and see if we can tap into a little of that Serenity Falls magic!”
I gently lifted a delicate glass ornament from the box Devon was holding. Its surface was etched with intricate snowflakes. As I held it up to the camera, the light caught it just right, sending tiny rainbows dancing across Devon’s face.
“This one’s been here since the ’60s,” I explained, my voice softening with reverence. “Can you imagine all the hopes and dreams it’s witnessed?”
Devon reached for another ornament. He looked lost in thought. “Probably seen its fair share of wishes come true, too,” he murmured, almost to himself.
I glanced at him, startled by the optimism in his tone. Was he thinking about his own wishes? Or about us?
Shaking off the moment, I turned back to the camera with a bright smile. “Each ornament tells a story,” I continued, hanging mine carefully on a sturdy branch. “Some of the love found, some of—“
“Second chances?” Devon interjected, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.
I nodded, unable to look away. “Yeah, second chances.”
“So,” I said, my voice a little breathier than I’d intended, “do you think this tree really makes wishes come true?”
Devon paused, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my heart skip. “Maybe,” he said slowly, “it’s not about the tree but what you wish for.”
The weight of his words hung in the air between us, filled with possibilities. For a moment, I forgot about the camera, the blog, everything but the man standing before me and the wishes we’d once shared.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” I pulled out a permanent marker and a pair of blank ornaments. The blog, Bella, not the grump and his bedhead! “I thought it would be fun for us to make a wish of our own.”
Devon took the ornament, his fingers lingering on mine. He wrote something quickly, then hung it on a low branch beside mine. I stared at our ornaments next to each other and realized how much I wanted to believe in a little magic.
“All done,” I announced, admiring our handiwork. The tree glittered with decades of hopes and dreams, new ornaments mingling with old. “It’s amazing how much love and hope this tree has seen.”
My eyes flickered to Devon, searching his face for any reaction. His expression was open, vulnerable even, and there was a softness around his eyes.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice low and warm. “This old tree’s seen its share of stories. Maybe it’s time to add a new chapter.”
Before I could respond, Devon reached out, brushing a snowflake from my hair. His touch lingered, tracing a line down my cheek. My pulse quickened, and I found myself leaning into his warmth. The world outside the wishing tree disappeared, and all that was left was us.
When his lips met mine, the world tilted on its axis. The kiss was soft, warm, and as natural as breathing. For a moment, everything felt right—like we were part of the legacy of love tied to this place, our story intertwining with countless others who had stood beneath this tree.
My hands found their way to his chest, and I felt the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath my palms. Devon’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer, and I melted into him.
But my elbow bumped the tripod just as we were lost in the kiss. The metal stand wobbled precariously. My eyes flew open in panic.
“Oh no!” I gasped, pulling away from Devon as we scrambled to catch the phone before it tumbled into the snow. Our hands collided as we reached for it, and I nearly lost my balance, my boots slipping on the icy ground.
Devon’s strong arm steadied me as he snagged the phone with his free hand, saving it from an untimely demise in the snowdrift. I could feel my heart beating in my head.
“Well,” I said, laughing nervously as I put the phone back on the tripod. “I guess I just gave my viewers an exclusive behind-the-scenes moment.”
Devon chuckled, his smile a little sheepish but he didn’t look like he regretted it. “Guess we did. Think it’ll boost your views?”
I groaned, burying my face in his chest. “Oh man, Sophie will never let me hear the end of this.”
“Hey,” Devon said softly, gently tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. “It’s okay. It was just a kiss.”
But as our eyes met, I could feel the weight of what had just happened between us. It wasn’t just a kiss, and we both knew it.
I cleared my throat, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism. “Right, um, we should probably wrap this up.”
Devon nodded, but his hand remained on the small of my back, a comforting warmth. “Yeah, good idea.”
We finished the livestream with as much composure as we could muster, though I felt like my cheeks were on fire the entire time. As I turned off the camera, my hands trembled slightly. I busied myself with packing up the equipment, sneaking glances at Devon.
He was quiet, but I could see something inside him changing. Like maybe he was healing a little from all the guilt and hurt he had been carrying around. I grabbed my bag and turned to head back to the guesthouse.
Devon reached over and took my hand, and suddenly, we were back in high school, as if all the years apart had never happened. I looked over at him, afraid to ruin the moment, but I couldn’t hold back. “Can we talk about what is happening between us?”
Devon hesitated. “Um. Yeah. I guess we can’t pretend it didn’t happen. What if we get cleaned up, and I take you out for a surprise tonight? Leave at six?”
“I’d like that,” I said, heading to my room to take a little nap before getting ready for the evening. I lay on the bed and couldn’t resist watching the video again. A flutter erupted in my chest as the kiss played out on screen. It looked perfect—like something out of a romantic movie.
Maple curled up at my feet, her tail thumping against the bed as if in agreement. I smiled down at her, not sure what I was feeling.
“What do you think, girl?” I whispered. “Could this be happening? Could we be part of the guesthouse’s story of second chances?”
Maple’s only response was to let out a contented sigh. I chuckled, reaching down to scratch behind her ears.
“Yeah,” I murmured, my eyes drifting back to the paused image on my phone. Me and Devon an instant before the kiss, surprise in my eyes and—could that be hope in his? “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”