Page 26 of Sweet Christmas Comeback
“That’s what friends are for,” Felicity said, giving Jade a quick hug. “Real friends don’t let friends face down historical society dragons alone.”
As they prepared to leave, Leo walked Jade toward the barn door. Felicity was ahead of them, still typing on her phone.
“About earlier,” Leo said quietly, his voice pitched so only she could hear. “In the woods?—”
“I know,” Jade interrupted softly. “It’s... complicated.”
“Yeah.” He paused, his hand on the barn door. “But maybe complicated isn’t the same as impossible.”
She looked up at him, this man who’d become so much more than she’d expected when she returned to Frost Pine Ridge. In the warm light spilling from the barn, his eyes were soft and hopeful and uncertain all at once.
“Let’s start with getting through Sunday,” she said, but her voice was warm, and she didn’t step away. “Tree lighting first, then... we’ll see.”
“I can work with that timeline,” he said, and there was something in his voice that made her pulse skip.
“Goodnight, Leo.”
“See you tomorrow, partner.”
Jade hurried to catch up with Felicity, who was still absorbed in her phone, fingers flying across the screen as she walked.
“What’s got you so focused?” Jade asked, falling into step beside her friend.
Felicity glanced up, her eyes bright with excitement. “I’m not entirely sure yet, but I think I might be onto something that could help you out.” She waved her phone. “Give me until tomorrow to dig deeper, but it involves our friend Cecily and some very interesting town records.”
“I can use all the help I can get,” Jade said, though she felt a flutter of curiosity mixed with apprehension.
“Trust me on this one,” Felicity said, giving her a quick hug as they reached the bakery. “Sweet dreams, and try not to think too hard about reindeer wranglers with pretty brown eyes.”
“Felicity!” Jade protested, but her friend was already walking away, chuckling.
Jade opened the bakery front door and Mabel was there waiting for her.
“Good trial run?” her aunt asked.
“Very good,” Jade replied, unwinding her scarf and thinking about brown eyes and gentle hands. “I think we’re going to have a wonderful tree lighting this year.”
And for the first time since returning to Frost Pine Ridge, she found herself hoping that wonderful might last well beyond Christmas.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The sun wasn’t even a rumor in the eastern sky, but Leo was already at war with a frozen water trough. The ice was a stubborn, solid thing, and his axe felt clumsy in the pre-dawn gloom. Chop. The impact jarred his shoulder. Chop. Splinters of ice skittered across the packed snow. Chop.
Work was the answer. It had always been the answer. When his dad died, he’d rebuilt the north fence. When his sister-in-law had left her marriage and then her daughter, he’d learned to plumb a leaky sink and braid hair, sort of. And now, after a sleigh ride that had left him feeling like he’d been struck by lightning, he was working off the restless energy that came with hope.
It was a good, honest problem. You hit it with something heavy, and it broke. Simple.
Unlike the memory of Jade in his arms.
That wasn’t simple. It was a tangle of wool and cinnamon and the terrifying, forgotten feeling of rightness. The way she’d fit against his chest, the surprised gasp of her breath against his throat, the unguarded vulnerability in her eyes right before...
Hrrrrrrrumph-snort.
He swung the axe harder, but this time it was more about channeling energy than aggression. A shower of ice chips peppered his jacket. He was going to put Vixen on muck-raking duty for a month, but he couldn’t quite work up any real irritation about it.
The sleigh ride had been... unexpected. He’d gone into it with a clear objective: a professional trial run. He’d emerged with something he hadn’t felt in years—possibility. She had leaned in. She had been a participant, not a victim, of his sudden flight of romantic impulse. For one, shimmering, infinite second, they had both been on the same page.
Let’s start with getting through Sunday. Tree lighting first, then... we’ll see.
