Page 53 of Wintertime Love (Holiday 2)

I watch Nick go, and I nudge Danny. “How come you didn’t know about this? You and Lucia know all the gossip around here.”

He glances towards Nick’s retreating back. “I had no idea that the place was even up for sale. Mrs. Hamilton’s grandson lives somewhere in Europe. I’d heard that he intended to move back here after a few years. I’m just as surprised.”

I glance at the wall clock and wonder who our new neighbors will be.

And as always, my Irishman tugs on my hair to get my attention and I find myself relenting.

Finn’s excitement at finally visiting a Christmas Market is unparalleled. He’s like a child who’s just discovered a candy store and has too much money to spend.

It amazes me how easily he can express himself while I still struggle sometimes. It’s like he wears his heart on his sleeve and yet, even while he’s all carefree and smiling, I know it takes an instant for him to go from calm and relaxed to a sharp eyed predatory wolf. I watch him play a game at a stall in order to win the big basket of chocolates that’s the centerpiece, and a rush of something warm fills me, watching thee glee on his face as he pops the inflated Santa balloons with the darts.

I like watching him. I enjoy seeing him happy and in this moment, he does seem like he’s having the time of his life. My heart stutters when I imagine him leaving. It’s like my entire life has been flooded with loud radiant colors and it’s all going to be snatched away from me soon.

I’m a coward, I muse to myself. If I had an ounce of courage, I would sit him and down and ask him if this is all he’s going to give me. I don’t want to be greedy but when it comes to him, I can’t help myself. I want it all with him, his laughter, his sly smiles when he’s about to do something that he knows is going to piss me off. I even want the subtle grief in his eyes when he talks about his past, the dark look of hunger in his eyes when he’s got me cornered and he’s about to devour me. I don’t know what I’ll miss more when he leaves and my heart constricts as I shove my gloved hands in my jacket pockets and watch him.

He turns to look at me as if sensing my gaze on him.

I meet his eyes steadily, shaking my head at the question in them.

We walk away with the basket and the small decorations that he’s been adamant on buying. It’s so cold that my nose is starting to freeze and I rub it, my teeth chattering. Even though I’m layered, the weather is vicious. The temperature drops every winter but it hasn’t snowed in Wicca Springs in over twenty years. But the cold is brutal.

However, tourists always come here to experience the magic of our town near Christmas. It’s not just the Christmas market that attracts their attention or the how our town goes all out when it comes to decorating. It’s to see the calm, undisturbed Wicca Lake which never seems to freeze over, no matter how cold it gets. Since there has never been a logical explanation for it, even the locals claim it’s the work of witches. Nobody really believes it but it does wonders for the tourist business. A few local teens have even been known to carry out a few pranks to frighten the tourists. They run off snickering after making low mewing sounds around the lake and the tourists end up believing that they encountered the spirits of the dead witches. It doesn’t help that the flora around Wicca Lake is decorated with dim lights, making it seem more spooky and haunted.

Our town can truly be shameless at times.

“You haven’t tried our Gluhwein yet, have you?” I ask Finn.

He looks surprised. “I thought mulled wine was sold in Christmas markets in the States? Isn’t Gluhwein sold in Germany, usually?”

I grin. “Yeah, but we also have Gluhwein here. Aunt Helen got the recipe from a German friend of hers. It’s very popular here.” I tuck my arm in his and drag him to a crowded stall where I buy two cups of the spiced wine.

Finn reaches for his wallet but I beat him to it. “It’s on me.”

We stand at one of the standing tables and sip at the wine. It warms me to my toes and I sigh in relief.

“This is good.” Finn is taken aback as he sips.

I smile, smugly. “You should try the cheese fries next.”

I introduce him to the various stalls that are serving hot food and we try nearly everything till my stomach is to point of bursting. I have to forcefully drag him away from them and he complains while still not satisfied but I lure him away with promises of something better.

As we’re walking, we pass a large stall that surrounds a small, gleaming tree on three sides. People are standing around it, bent over a small desk in the corner, scribbling something on colorful scraps of paper.

Finn pulls me to a stop, staring at them. “What’re they doing?”

I glance over. “Oh, that’s the Christmas Wish Tree. We have one every year. People go there and write a wish on a paper and then you hang it on one of the branches.”

Finn doesn’t budge, a strange gleam lights in his eyes. “I want to do it.”

I blink in surprise. “Um, all right,” I reply as I let him drag me over. “What do you want to wish for?”

He gives me a secretive smile. “If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

I scoff and shake my head.

He nudges me. “You make one, too.”

I watch him grab two pieces of paper and he offers me one. I hesitate before taking it. He scribbles something on his and I lift my pen and then stare at the paper in my hand.

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