Page 11 of Love in a Christmas Storm
He looked up, startled, just as she crouched down and took the lighter from his hand. Their fingers brushed. A little electriccrackle zipped up his arm, catching him off guard. It wasn’t the kind of thing he had imagined. It was like the spark from a wool sweater or sliding socks across carpet. But deeper. Warmer.
Lettie pulled her hand back quickly, but her eyes snapped to his, wide for just a moment. So she’d felt it too.
Neither of them said a word as she lit the fire with quick, practiced efficiency. Within seconds, the flames caught and began to glow, casting flickering light across the room. Carlos watched the way the shadows danced over her face, softening the lines she always seemed to keep drawn so tightly.
She stood and walked back to the bed.
Carlos stayed near the hearth. “Can I ask you something?”
She didn’t look up.
“What did I do? To make you dislike me so much?”
That made her pause. Then, slowly, she looked over at him. “Seriously?”
He nodded.
“You bought my family’s legacy,” she said, voice flat. “You just… took it.”
Carlos didn't argue that he didn't make the purchase. He latched onto something else. “I didn’t realize you wanted to take over the magazine.”
“I didn’t.” Her eyes flicked back to her screen. “Doesn’t mean I wanted it sold off.”
Carlos was quiet for a moment, absorbing that. Not defending. Just understanding.
“I guess I just wanted it to stay in the family,” she added, softer now, as if the words surprised her by existing out loud.
He nodded slowly. “I get that.”
Silence again. Not quite as sharp this time.
“You know,” he said after a moment, “if you ever wanted to do a guest piece, I’d run it.”
She let out a single dry laugh. “Yeah, I’m not exactly your brand.”
“Try me.”
Her head tilted. “You want to print an exposé on the Mistletoe Mafia?”
Carlos straightened slightly. “Pitch it to me.”
Lettie closed her laptop and leaned back. “I’ve been interviewing local business owners—ones who didn’t make the Holiday Trail map this year. Turns out there’s a common denominator. A name that keeps coming up.”
She watched him for a moment, as if waiting for the punchline.
When it didn’t come, she said, “Mrs. White. Of the Tourism Board. According to multiple sources, she told certain shops that if they didn’t ‘Christmasify’ their entire inventory from November through December, they wouldn’t be included on the trail. No peppermint candles? No maple Santa cookies? No glitter-covered gnome earrings? No map spot. No social media coverage. No free ad space.”
Carlos felt his brow furrow. “That’s… intense.”
“Manipulative. Punitive. And it’s hurting small businesses.”
He thought of the empty shelves at the bakery. The discouraged look in the eyes of the candle makers. The handmade bookseller sign.
“That’s a story I’d print.”
Lettie's eyes narrowed. “You’re not just saying that?”
Carlos shook his head. “I’m not. It’s local. It’s real. And it matters.”
