Page 16 of Mountain Man's Naughty Elf
"We've got time." The firelight caught in his eyes, making the blue gleam.
I sighed. "We met when I first moved to Evergreen Falls three years ago. I was hired to plan the town's sesquicentennial celebration, and he was the up-and-coming city councilman assigned to work with me. He was charming, ambitious, attentive. We dated for six months before he proposed." Ishrugged, trying to make it casual. "Classic whirlwind romance, until I found him with his campaign manager a year later."
Pax's expression darkened. "On the couch in his office," I added. "Very cliché."
"He's an idiot," Pax said, so matter-of-factly that it startled a laugh out of me.
"Why, Mr. Forrester, was that almost a compliment?"
He cleared his throat. "Statement of fact."
"Mmhmm." I took a small sip of my schnapps—it was delicious, warming me from the inside with notes of spice. "My turn. What do you miss most about the Marines?"
He stared down at his tumbler, and for a moment I thought he'd drink again. But then he said quietly, "The certainty. Knowing your job, your place. The people you could count on."
I hadn't expected such raw honesty. It struck me that perhaps isolation hadn't been his first choice, but his response to loss.
"What about family?" he asked, changing the subject. "They know you're hiding from the law?"
"I'm not hiding from the law," I corrected. "I'm avoiding the clutches of a corrupt politician. And no. My parents live in Arizona. Snowbirds who made it permanent. They think I'm having a lovely Christmas season." I twisted the shot glass between my fingers. "What's the deal with you and Christmas? And don't drink this time. I'm genuinely curious."
He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the fire. Just when I thought he would drink after all, he spoke.
"Last deployment. We were supposed to be home in time. Plans changed." His voice was even, but there was something beneath it, something he was holding back. "When I got out, I just... stopped celebrating. Didn't see the point."
The weight of unspoken history hung in his words. I wanted to ask more but sensed he'd already shared more than he usually did.
"Well," I said softly, "thank you for letting me put up the decor. That was nice of you."
He nodded once, then gestured to my shot glass. "Your question."
"What about you?" he asked, his voice lower now, less guarded. "What made you so celebration-obsessed?"
I traced the rim of my shot glass, memories flooding me more than the schnapps. "My grandma. She made every Christmas magical, even when money was tight. She'd transform our tiny apartment into the North Pole with nothing but thrift store garlands and popcorn on string." I smiled, remembering. "When she died, I promised myself I'd keep that magic alive. It's why I started my event company—to give other people what she gave me."
Pax nodded, something shifting in his expression. Understanding, maybe. Or recognition.
The liquor was beginning to work its magic, creating a pleasant heat that had nothing to do with the fire. I relaxed back on my elbows, feeling my earlier tension about Nolan's visit begin to dissolve.
"Okay, easy one. What movies did you download on that laptop I saw? And please tell me there's at least one Christmas movie."
He let out a sound that might have been a laugh. "You're obsessed."
"With Christmas? Ab-snow-lutely."
He shook his head. "There might be one or two."
I sat up straight. "Really? Which ones? Please say Die Hard."
"That’s not a Christmas movie.
I gasped in mock horror. "Of course it is! Christmas party, Christmas music, Christmas miracle of John McClane saving the day."
"If you say so."
"We need to check. Where's your computer?"
He gave me a bemused look. "You want to watch movies now? In a power outage?"
