Page 51 of The Bear's Christmas Wish
The warmth in his voice made Sarah’s chest tighten with anticipation. She leaned back in her seat, stealing glances at his hands on the steering wheel—steady, capable hands that had guided the sleigh with such confidence earlier. The same hands that had lifted Emmy down with gentle care.
How she longed to feel those warm hands on her skin. Touching, teasing, stroking…
She swallowed down her longing. What if Michael didn’t feel the same way? What if he was simply being friendly, seeking companionship?
But those thoughts were swept away as they crested the final ridge before Wolf Valley came into view. Sarah gasped at thesight. The valley below was already lit for evening, thousands of twinkling lights creating a golden pool nestled between snow-covered peaks.
“Oh,” she breathed, unable to find more adequate words.
Michael slowed the truck, allowing her to take in the scene. “Pretty special, isn’t it?”
“It’s beautiful,” she managed, leaning forward in her seat to better see the panorama.
The town itself was something out of a storybook. Old-fashioned buildings with peaked roofs now draped in snow, smoke curling from chimneys, and at its center, what looked like a village square transformed into a Christmas market. Even from this distance, Sarah could see the colorful stalls and the towering Christmas tree at its heart.
Michael navigated the winding descent with practiced ease, finding a parking spot on a side street just a short walk from the market. As they stepped out of the truck, the air felt different here, crisper somehow, carrying the scent of wood smoke and spices.
“Ready?” Michael asked, coming around to her side.
Sarah nodded. This was the first time she’d done something like this—something just for herself—since moving to Bear Creek. Since long before the divorce, if she was being honest. It felt kind of scary. Kind of exciting.
But she could think of no other place, no other person, she would like to be with at this moment.
They walked side by side toward the growing sounds of music and laughter. With each step, the market came more fully into view until they turned a final corner and Sarah stopped in her tracks.
The entire square had been transformed into an old-world Christmas market that could have been plucked straight from Bavaria. Wooden stalls with peaked roofs lined cobblestone paths, each one decorated with evergreen boughs and twinkling lights. Vendors in traditional dress sold everything from hand-carved ornaments to woolen mittens. The scent of gingerbread and mulled wine filled the air, mingling with the crisp pine of fresh wreaths.
“What do you think?” Michael asked, watching her face with an intensity that made her cheeks warm despite the cold.
“It’s magical,” Sarah replied honestly. “Like stepping into another world.”
They wandered among the stalls, stopping to admire intricate glass ornaments, sample cheese from a local dairy, and watch a woodcarver create tiny forest animals with deft flicks of his knife. Sarah relaxed into the experience, the weight of responsibility temporarily lifted from her shoulders.
At a stall selling handmade candles, Sarah picked up one labeled “Winter Forest” and inhaled deeply. The scent immediately reminded her of Michael’s tree farm—pine and cedar with something deeper beneath, earthy and real.
“This smells just like North Peak Pines,” she said, offering it to him.
Michael leaned in, his shoulder brushing hers as he smelled the candle. “Pretty close,” he agreed, his voice low near her ear. “Though I think we smell better.”
The teasing note in his voice made her laugh. “Well, you would say that. You’re biased.”
“Completely,” he admitted with a grin that made her heart skip.
They continued through the market until they reached a stall where steaming cups of mulled wine were being poured from a large copper pot. The rich aroma of cinnamon, cloves, and warm red wine enveloped them.
“Two, please,” Michael said to the vendor, already reaching for his wallet.
“You don’t have to…” Sarah began, but Michael shook his head.
“My invitation, my treat,” he insisted, handing her a cup wrapped in a festive napkin. “Besides, you can’t experience the Christmas market without proper Glühwein.”
Their fingers brushed during the exchange, sending a now familiar jolt of electricity up Sarah’s arm. She ducked her head so that he could not see the flush in her cheeks and wrapped both hands around the warm cup, inhaling the spicy aroma before taking a sip. The wine was perfectly spiced, warming her from the inside out.
Much like Michael’s touch.
“This is incredible,” she said, taking another sip. And, yes, she was talking about the spiced wine.
“Goes well with these,” Michael added, producing a small paper bag from another vendor. Inside were two pastries dusted with powdered sugar and filled with what smelled like almond paste. “Christstollen bites,” he explained. “Traditional German Christmas cake.”
