Chapter 10
TEN
LIAM
So far, so good. He’d stayed away all day. So, Liam tried—and failed—not to give himself too much shit for stopping by the chocolate shop yesterday.
“You couldn’t even hold out one day,” he muttered, shaking his head as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
He’d told himself maybe it had been a fluke.
That what Cassidy did to him—the way she’d looked in the snow on Sunday night, barefoot, braided hair, smiling like magic had dropped straight from the sky—was some kind of sleep-deprived moment of madness.
A temporary spell conjured from the scent of cocoa and cold air.
Yeah. No.
He’d been dead wrong.
The image of her yesterday, flushed and flustered, trying to impress him with chocolates, had been playing on loop in his head ever since. The way she’d lit up when he’d bitten into that truffle and deflated when he hadn’t given her the reaction she’d wanted.
How she’d insisted they had a crazed vandal running among them.
God, she was so damn fierce about it. Like everything she did had to mean something. Like she couldn’t not care. He hadn’t seen that kind of fire in a long time. He wanted to feed it. Push her buttons. Watch her unravel.
He couldn’t stop wondering how her passion would translate when she wasn’t pouring it into cocoa or trying to win a light-up contest. What would she sound like when she wasn’t trying to impress anyone? When she let go completely?
He imagined her mouth on his, hot and demanding. But this time, it wasn’t on the counter in his shop. No, this time, it was his truck.
The image hit him like a snowstorm. Cassidy, waiting for him on the backseat of his truck after closing, wrapped in one of his old flannel blankets.
The kind that smelled faintly like pine and woodsmoke.
She’d be sipping cocoa, cheeks flushed, her breath fogging up in the cold night air.
Her braid would be undone, golden waves spilling over her shoulders, and when he climbed in beside her, she’d look at him with that fire in her eyes—the one that made him forget how to think.
“You took your time,” she’d whisper, voice low and full of intent.
She’d pull him down by the collar, lips crashing into his. Her hands would slide beneath his coat, finding the edge of his thermal shirt, slipping underneath to touch bare skin.
And then she’d straddle him.
Right there, in the backseat of the truck, hips rolling in slow circles against his lap, grinding down just enough to drive him insane but not enough to give him what he needed. Her hands tangled in his hair, her mouth tracing the shell of his ear.
“You want me?” she’d breathe. “Prove it.”
And he would. God, he would.
His hands would slide up her thighs beneath that extra Christmas skirt she wore. He’d tug it higher, revealing lace-trimmed stockings—or maybe nothing at all. Her body would be hot against the cold night, her moans fogging up the truck windows as he made her come apart beneath the winter sky.
It would be all breath and steam and the creak of the suspension as they moved, as he pushed into her, slow and deep, her back arching beneath him. The town silent. Just the two of them and the heat they couldn’t outrun anymore.
A muscle ticked in his jaw as he shifted in his seat, the steering wheel gripped too tight in his hands.
He was not going to think about Cassidy St. Clair riding him in the back of his truck.
He tried to reroute his thoughts. He didn’t know Cassidy well.
He’d heard things around town, snippets from Madison and Zach, even his mom.
She’d lived in Paris. Owned a shop there.
Something about a breakup. She was a happy, bright, and smiling kind of person, and to his great annoyance, she was the town’s biggest fan of Christmas, which was saying a lot.
But there was more to her, he could sense it. She had a darker kind of depth. He wanted to know her story. Not just the one wrapped in silky sheets and cocoa-smudged kisses, but the kind of story that shaped a person.
Liam’s truck rumbled as it turned onto the gravel drive leading to the family farm. The wrought-iron archway above the entrance was strung with evergreen garlands, white twinkle lights, and a red bow nearly as wide as his wingspan.
His mom’s handiwork, of course. She still believed in the magic of the season.
Beth handled all the farm’s decorating, right down to the gift barn, where they sold the same goods he now offered in town: honey, jams, alpaca knits, hand-poured candles.
They sold the type of gifts that made you feel appreciated, remembered.
Coming out to the farm today hadn’t exactly been on Liam’s list. He’d just been here on Sunday for lunch. A tradition his mom insisted on keeping alive. One o’clock sharp, every Sunday. Open-door policy. Anyone from town could drop in and usually did.
It had started back when Jackson was deployed, and their sister, Lily, was always somewhere across the globe chasing sunshine and Wi-Fi. Liam never missed a Sunday, not even now, when he’d rather skip right over the holidays.
On Sunday, Beth had served up country-fried steak, mashed potatoes, gravy, and apple pie for dessert.
Mayor Bloomfield had dropped by, along with his lady friend, Edith, and Mrs. Bishop.
Her kitchen renovation still wasn’t done, despite Zach’s best efforts.
Mrs. Bishop had decided to rearrange everything, including the kitchen sink, and Liam had since learned not to ask his best friend how things were going.
His mom had a habit of filling the table with guests. “The more, the merrier,” she always said. And no one loved a full house more than she did.
But today, Liam was here for a different reason.
The town Christmas tree.
His family had supplied the massive spruce that stood in Maple Falls’ center square for generations.
He should’ve delivered it yesterday, but he’d avoided the crowds—the Christmas cheer, the Santa House, Cassidy.
Now, with just a few hours until the tree lighting ceremony, he had to get it loaded and into town.
He pulled into the gravel lot, parked, and stepped out. A cold gust hit his face, and he inhaled the sharp scent of pine and woodsmoke. Over by the barn, Jackson was already tying down the last of the netting around the spruce.
“Hey, man,” Liam called, walking over. “Thanks for getting that started.”
“Figured I’d make your life easier for once,” Jackson replied, tugging the twine taut. Typical Jackson—stoic, efficient. His way of saying he cared without actually saying it.
“You sure you don’t want to come into town with me?”
Jackson paused. “Nah, once last night was enough.”
Liam nodded, not pushing. He understood that heaviness that no amount of holiday cheer could lift.
They were twins but completely different. Always had been. Liam had been the joker, the flirt, the fun one. And he still was, except for this time of year. Jackson was quiet, serious, and methodical year-round. The war had only deepened that divide.
Their mom came out just then, sweater wrapped tightly around her, ladle in hand. The smell of onion, garlic, and thyme drifted toward him.
“I was hoping to catch you before you left,” she said. “I made beef stew. There’s plenty extra. Come in and eat before you go.”
Liam leaned down so she could kiss his cheek. It was automatic, like muscle memory.
“I’d love to,” he said, “but I’m already behind. If I don’t get that tree into town before four, Mayor Bloomfield will come knocking on my door.”
She gave him a look. “Then you’ll take it to go.”
Before he could argue, she was already heading back inside.
Liam turned back to Jackson, who was stacking firewood beside the oversized pit they kept burning from fall through winter. It gave customers a place to warm up after tree shopping, but mostly, it made outdoor work a little more bearable.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Fixing one of the sleigh tracks. They’ve been working overtime since Friday,” Jackson said, tossing another log onto the flames.
Liam nodded. Sleigh rides were one of the farm’s biggest draws. Pair that with cocoa, fresh-cut trees, and photo ops by the barn, and they had a holiday destination.
As Liam turned back toward his truck and loaded the tree, Cassidy’s laugh from yesterday echoed in his memory. Bright and unapologetic, like her smile. Like snowflakes falling in sunshine.
Why was he so drawn to her?
How could he even bring himself to feel like this, especially at this time of year?
They’d met two days ago. That was it. And yet…
His phone buzzed in his coat pocket.
He ignored it, hoisted the tree into the truck bed.
Buzz.
Then again.
With a grunt, he tugged his gloves off and pulled out his phone. The screen lit up with notifications from his friends’ group chat.
Madison: Guys. Emily’s shop was targeted again. This time they messed up her lights and her wreath.
Zoe: I don’t like this. It’s starting to feel personal.
Kit: I saw that! Emily posted it on Insta. It got 200 likes in the first hour and dozens of comments. #GingerbreadJerk
Cassidy: Unless the wind has a grudge and impeccable aim, it’s definitely sabotage. This has to end!
Liam’s thumb hovered over the reply bubble, then didn’t type anything. Instead, he stared at Cassidy’s message: Unless the wind has a grudge…
She’d added a wink emoji. Light, teasing. But Liam could imagine her face when she wrote it—spark in her eyes, hair falling into her face, biting her lip.
He scrolled back up and stared at the hashtag: #GingerbreadJerk
Was it funny? Yeah. A little. But the truth was, if there was someone out there trying to mess with businesses—wreck displays, ruin people’s shot at the competition—it wouldn’t take much to cause real harm.
He hated to think of Cassidy’s shop being targeted next. He could picture her up bright and early, working on her chocolates alone in her kitchen while someone watched outside, waiting for the opportunity to strike.
Not that there was any real danger. Probably.
Still, something tightened in his chest at the thought of it. A sharp, defensive pull.
“You good?” Jackson asked from behind him. He was holding a container of beef stew for Liam to take.
Liam shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Yeah,” he muttered, accepting the leftovers. “Thanks for the help. I better get going.”
He climbed into the truck, but his thoughts stayed with Cassidy. He told himself it was just concern for a fellow competitor. But the need to make sure she was safe had already burrowed under his skin.