Page 8 of Mountain Man in my Stockings
He stood with surprising agility for his age and yanked up his pant leg to reveal knee-length thermal underwear with moose printed all over them. The crowd roared with appreciation.
"Nancy ordered 'em special a while back," he announced with unexpected cheer. "Said even old legs deserve fancy skivvies."
Even Eve was laughing, clapping along with everyone else as Earl took an exaggerated bow before returning to his drink, visibly lighter than before.
For my second stocking, I knew exactly what I wanted. I selected a simple white one with gold trim and walked directly to Eve.
"Your turn," I said, offering it to her.
She hesitated briefly before accepting it with a rueful smile. "I was afraid of this." She pulled out the paper and read aloud: "'Share your most embarrassing Christmas story.'"
"The floor is yours," I said, gesturing toward the room that had quieted in anticipation.
She took a deep breath, her fingers fidgeting with the cocktail napkin. "Okay, so this was about six years ago when I was still in college. I was dating this guy who invited me to his family's Christmas dinner."
She shifted on her stool, warming to the story. "They were a huge Italian family—aunts, uncles, cousins, the works. And they were really into their holiday traditions, including this thing where everyone had to sing a Christmas carol solo before dessert."
I leaned against the counter, watching her animation build.
"So there I am, nervous as hell, when my turn comes up. I decide on 'Silent Night' because I figured it's simple enough. Except..." She paused dramatically. "I completely blanked on the lyrics after the first line. Just... nothing."
Several patrons chuckled sympathetically.
"But instead of admitting it, my brain decided the smart move was to just... hum the tune. Loudly. While everyone stared. For what felt like an eternity." Eve covered her face. "Finally his grandmother took pity on me and started singing along, but by then I was so mortified I knocked over my wine glass. All over his mother's white tablecloth. And her lap."
The bar erupted in laughter. Eve's cheeks were pink, but she was laughing too.
"Did you ever get invited back?" I asked.
"Oh, God no. We broke up three months later. To this day, I can't hear 'Silent Night' without having flashbacks."
"Well, you've earned your drink," I said, mixing her a fresh Jack and Ginger. "And you've officially been initiated into the Promise Ridge Christmas catastrophe club."
Our fingers brushed as I handed her the glass. The brief contact sent a jolt through me I hadn't felt in years.
"So," I said, fighting to ignore the sensation, "what do you think of our little town so far?"
"Honestly? I haven't seen much of it." She sipped her drink. "I stayed holed up all day in the Airbnb I’m renting until coming here tonight. Pinecrest Cabin, the property manager calls it."
"I know it. About fifteen minutes out of town, near the Pine Lake trailhead?"
She nodded. "That's the one. It's nice—a good place to get some work done."
"On vacation?" My eyebrow arched.
"Bad habit," she admitted. "Workaholic tendencies."
"Well, you can't come to Promise Ridge and not actually see the Ridge." An idea I'd been mulling since she walked in tonight clicked into place. "There's a holiday market in the town square going on this week. Local crafts, food, the works. You shouldn't miss it."
Eve twirled her glass slowly. "You think it’s really worth it, though?"
"No question. Best market in these parts. I could... show you around, if you want." I hesitated, rubbing the back of my neck. "Our town is basically a hole-in-the-wall, but it does have its charms—especially at Christmas."
She studied me for a long moment, and I braced for polite rejection.
"I'd like that," she finally said. "It sounds fun."
The tension in my shoulders eased. "Great. I can pick you up around noon?"
