Page 10 of Tangling with the Christmas
"Didn't," I correct. "Then a crazy woman crashed her car into my snowbank and changed my mind."
Her eyes go shiny, the fight in her voice starting to crumble. "Rhett—"
"No," I cut in, shaking my head. "Don't do that. Don't talk yourself out of this. You came up that mountain to save a festival." I reach into my coat pocket, pull out the thing I carved this morning when I should've been sleeping—a small wooden ornament, smoothed and sanded until it's soft as silk, the her name burned into the grain. "Ended up saving me instead."
Her breath catches when I press it into her palm. Her fingers close around it, trembling. "You made this?"
“It’s not much, but I wanted you to have an ornament for the tree.” I cup her face, tilting her chin up so she has to look at me. "Thank you for making my cabin feel like a home for the first time in years."
"You're really going to do this here?" Her voice breaks on the words. "In front of everyone?"
"Why not?" I glance around at the gathered crowd—some smiling, some shocked, the mayor looking like he's not sure whether to applaud or call security. "Seems fitting. You want to turn this town into Mistletoe Ridge? Well, here's your moment."
She looks up at me, eyes shining in the glow of the Christmas lights someone's already testing. "You're impossible."
"Yeah," I say, and I can't help smiling—a real smile, the kind that's been missing from my face for too damn long. "But I'm yours. If you'll have me."
"Rhett Walker, are you asking me—"
"I'm asking you to give me a chance. To let me come down from that mountain sometimes. To let me be part of this—" I gesture at the square, the lights, the chaos, "—whatever this is. To let me be part of your life."
Tears spill over, tracking down her cheeks, but she's smiling. That brilliant, sunshine smile that could power the whole grid of lights. "You hate all this."
"I hate being without you more." The words come easier than I expected. Maybe because they're true. Maybe because she makes truth feel safe. "So yeah, I'll string lights. I'll listen to carols. I'll even wear one of those ugly Christmas sweaters if that's what it takes."
She laughs, watery and beautiful. "Those are fighting words, Mountain Man."
"Then fight me." I lean in, close enough that our breath mingles in the cold air. "Fight me for the rest of our lives if you want. Just don't walk away."
"I won't," she whispers. "I can't. You tangled me up the second you scowled at me in that snow."
When I kiss her, the whole square erupts—cheers, laughter, applause, someone ringing a bell like we just got married. It allfades into white noise. All I can feel is her. All I can taste is cinnamon andyesand the promise of every Christmas to come.
She pulls back just enough to whisper against my lips, "You know this means you're helping with the festival, right? No backing out now."
I groan, but I'm grinning. "What have I gotten myself into?"
"Something wonderful," she says, eyes sparkling with mischief and love and all the things I thought I'd lost the right to years ago. "Something tangled and messy and absolutely perfect."
"Yeah," I say, pulling her close again, not caring who's watching. "I think you're right."
The mayor clears his throat. "Does this mean we're getting our tree delivered on time?"
We break apart, laughing. "Yeah, Mayor," I call back. "You're getting your tree. And your festival. And apparently, I'm getting a crash course in holiday cheer."
Rosemary beams up at me. "Best decision you'll ever make."
"Third best," I correct, tucking a strand of tinsel-covered hair behind her ear.
“Third best?” she asks.
"Second best was letting you into my cabin." I lower my voice so only she can hear me. “First best was letting you into my bed.”
She swats my chest, but she's still smiling. Still glowing.
Around us, the town comes back to life. Volunteers get back to work, the mayor begins directing the tree placement, and children squeal with excitement. The festival's happening, with or without us.
But we stay right where we are, wrapped up in each other, letting the world move around us like water around a stone.
