Page 37 of Tied Up In Tinsel
“Brooks! Nooo!” she squealed over her shoulder, tutu bouncing with every step. The sound of her laughter mixed with the twinkle of Christmas music spilling from the speakers overhead.
We whipped past massive trees decked out with ribbons and ornaments, stockings hung along the bannisters, and garlands that shimmered in the glow of white lights. The whole place smelled of pine, cinnamon, and hot chocolate.
I lunged, fingertips brushing the air just shy of her.
“Too late!” I warned, but she cut right at the last second, leaving me off balance.
Damn. The kid was good.
She bolted straight into the grand ballroom. By the time I followed, gathering what was left of my dignity after being juked by a seven-year-old, the sound of her little shoes tapping against the hardwood echoed off the vaulted ceiling.
The room was insane—tall windows framed a panorama of snow-covered mountains in the distance. The peaks were dusted like powdered sugar, the sky a soft gray that promised more flurries before nightfall. Inside, the glow of chandeliers and the faint hum of holiday chatter made the space feel warm, festive, alive.
“Whoa there!” a deep voice called out.
Ruby came to a sudden halt.
A man stepped forward—salt-and-pepper hair, neatly trimmed beard, and a perfectly pressed suit that looked a little too formal for the middle of the afternoon. He carried himself with an authority that made me stop in my tracks too.
“Miss Ruby,” the man said with a gentle smile. “What a pleasant surprise.”
Ruby grinned and, with all the grace of a princess in a Christmas pageant, dipped into a curtsy, her tutu puffing around her knees.
“Hi, Mr. Hatchman,” she chirped.
The man’s eyes slid to me then, sharp but kind.
“And you must be Brooks.”
I reached out a hand, my grip firm. “Yes, sir.”
His shake matched mine—solid, practiced, like a man used to being in control. Yeah, no doubt in my mind. This had to be the mayor.
Before I could say much else, Mr. Hatchman bent and scooped Ruby into his arms. She let out a delighted squeal as though this was an old, familiar routine.
“Would you like to see the Santa display? Santa himself will be here in just a few days.”
Ruby’s eyes went wide, sparkling like she’d just been handed a golden ticket. She nodded eagerly, clutching his shoulder as if she might fly off with excitement.
Just like that, the mayor carried her off.
My stomach tightened, instinct telling me I should stop him, that a man walking off with a little girl without even asking was enough to set off alarm bells. However, Ruby looked perfectly at ease, completely comfortable in his arms. She knew him. Trusted him.
Still, I wasn’t about to let it go without checking with Annie first.
I turned toward the far side of the ballroom, where the soft clatter of pots and pans spilled from a doorway. Sure enough, a glimpse of stainless steel and bustling figures told me I’d found the caterers’ kitchen.
My boots thudded against the gleaming floor as I made my way across the room, every step pulling me closer to the one woman I couldn’t stop thinking about.
Annie.
She was bent over one of the prep tables, rolling out dough with flour dusted up her forearms, her hair pulled back into a messy knot that left wisps falling around her face. She had that focused look that made her seem completely untouchable, but also like the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
I leaned against the doorway, watching her a beat too long before I finally said, “Well, well. If it isn’t the queen of Christmas cookies herself.”
She glanced up, startled at first, then smirked when she saw me. “Brooks. What are you doing back here? You can’t just waltz into my kitchen.”
“Kitchen police gonna arrest me?” I teased, stepping inside. “Figured I’d report to the boss before the mayor himself kidnapped your kid.”
