Page 8 of A Pen Pal for Christmas

“And since you’re ours now, and Snow Hill takes care of its own, you’ll just have to get used to it,” Robin added.

My heart squeezed, but I deflected with a playful smirk. "Even us city girls?" I slid their drinks across the bar, each garnished with a sprig of fresh mint.

Grace took a sip and let out an appreciative hum. "Especially city girls who can mix a Mojito like this. Seriously, Fi, this is amazing."

"Thanks," I replied, twirling a strand of my dark hair. "So, catch me up. What's the latest Snow Hill gossip?"

As my friends launched into animated chatter about the upcoming Gingerbread Ball and the new family that had moved in on Maple Street, I relaxed. I listened intently, asking questions and laughing at their stories, all while keeping an eye on the rest of the bar. I refilled drinks when needed, but it didn’t interrupt the flow of bonding with these women.

But then Grace paused as she was midway through another round of town gossip, her brow furrowing. "But how areyoudoing, Sofia? Really?"

My smile faltered for a moment. I busied myself with wiping down the counter. "Oh, you know. Taking it day by day. But don’t stop that story. I was into it. Tell me more about this mysterious new neighbor."

As Grace launched back into her tale, I caught Holly and Robin exchanging concerned glances. I appreciated their worry, but I wasn't ready to unpack everything just yet. Instead, Ifocused on the laughter of my friends and the growing sense that maybe I could find my place here.

My friends didn’t stay long,and after they left, my hands paused mid-shake on a cocktail shaker as a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped inside.

His presence immediately commanded my attention, some kind of energy about him that made me stop and take notice. It wasn’t arrogance or flashiness—it was quieter, steadier, like the hum of a far-off storm rolling in. I couldn’t decide if his confident stride put me at ease or set me on edge… but maybe it was both, and the edge might’ve been a tad bit delicious.

The newcomer's hazel eyes held a quiet quiet intensity, his short-cropped dark hair dusted with snowflakes that were quickly melting. His haircut was a dead giveaway, but he also moved with a controlled grace that spoke of military training. It was something I could spot a mile away thanks to my brother’s experience in the army and being around him and his friends.

Spot chosen, he settled at the far end of the bar, and I was instantly drawn to him. My heart raced for no good reason as I approached, then stopped altogether when I realized that up close, the man's features were even more striking—a strong jaw, lips pressed in a contemplative line, and those eyes that seemed to hold way too many secrets.

I promptly decided that he looked like a whiskey man.

"Welcome to The Hearthstone," I said, summoning my most welcoming smile. "What can I get for you?"

The man's gaze met mine, and when he spoke, his voice was as smooth as his drink order. "Whiskey, neat. Got anything local in stock?”

I scanned through my memories from the hasty training I’d received earlier in the day, then nodded. "We have a great small-batch bourbon from just outside town."

"Sounds perfect."

As I poured the amber liquid, I stole glances at the man I’d correctly pegged as a whiskey lover. His smile was polite but distant, and there was something familiar about him, though I was sure I’d never seen him before.

“Here for a Christmas vacay?” I ventured.

A hint of a smile tipped up his full lips. “You could say that.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “But you’re not a regular Christmas-magic-seeking tourist.”

The smile grew ever so slightly. “Is that a question?”

“Statement.”

He grinned full-on, and the effect was devastating. “I grew up here. Been away for a while."

"Oh yeah? Well, welcome back, then. Here you go," I said, setting the glass in front of him.

His eyes met mine, a flicker of something—interest, maybe?—passing through them. "Thank you,” he murmured.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, my fingers brushing my cheek as if trying to ground myself. The man’s eyes tracked the movement, something softening in his gaze before he took a measured sip of his whiskey.

For a moment, it felt like the rest of the bar was fading into the background, my other customers disappearing one by one until it was just the two of us.

Not a good look for a lone bartender on a busy Friday night.

I told myself to get it together. I was here for a fresh start, not to fall for the first mysterious stranger who walked into thebar on night one of my new job. But I couldn't deny the pull I felt. There was something in his quiet strength, so different from Dane's flashy charm, that intrigued me.

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