Chapter 7

7

ELLERY

F orestville’s annual Winter Festival transformed Main Street into a twinkling, sparkly winter wonderland. I squeezed Boaz’s hand as we stepped onto the snow-dusted cobblestones, drinking in the festive sights and sounds. Strings of white lights crisscrossed overhead, casting a warm glow on the bustling crowd. The scent of cinnamon and pine filled the air.

“This is incredible,” Boaz breathed, his brown eyes wide with childlike wonder. His enthusiasm was infectious, and I felt a surge of affection.

“Wait till you see the ice sculptures,” I said, tugging him toward a nearby booth. “But first, let’s get something to warm us up.”

The hot chocolate stand was doing brisk business, steam rising from paper cups clutched in mittened hands. I ordered two, handing one to Boaz with a wink.

“Gotta keep that motor mouth of yours from freezing shut,” I teased.

Boaz’s full lips quirked into a grin. “Oh please, it’d take more than a little frost to shut me up. You should know that by now, old man.”

I chuckled, oddly pleased by the jab at our age difference. There was something refreshing about Boaz’s irreverence. At fifty, I’d gotten used to being treated with a certain deference, especially given my background. But Boaz saw past all that, treating me like any other guy he was interested in. It was liberating.

“You’re right. What was I thinking?” I said, affecting a serious tone. “We’d need at least a blizzard to accomplish that miracle.”

Boaz stuck out his tongue, then took a sip of cocoa. A dollop of whipped cream clung to his upper lip, and I had to resist the urge to lean in and kiss it off. Instead, I reached out and wiped it away with my thumb. The brief contact sent a spark through me.

“Thanks,” Boaz murmured, his cheeks flushing pink. Whether from the cold or my touch, I couldn’t say.

We started down the street, our shoulders brushing as we walked. I was hyperaware of every point of contact between us. It had been a long time since I’d felt this way about anyone—giddy and nervous, like a teenager on a first date.

“What’s your favorite part of the festival?” Boaz asked, gesturing with his free hand. “The food? The music? Ooh, or is there some manly lumberjack competition where you get to show off those muscles?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’ve got a one-track mind, you know that?”

“Can you blame me?” Boaz waggled his eyebrows. “You’re a walking thirst trap.”

Aaand I officially felt old, having no idea what that even meant. Maybe best to ignore it? “I’ve only visited the Winter Festival once before, and that was two years ago before I decided to move here. I was exploring several small towns then to see where I’d feel most at home.”

“Why did you pick Forestville?”

I considered the question, taking in the festive scene around us. Families strolled by, children squealing with delight. Couples huddled close, sharing private smiles. The whole town seemed to have turned out. A sense of warmth and community permeated the chilly air.

“Honestly?” I said at last. “It’s this. All of it. The charm of it, but also the friendliness of people, how welcoming they were. It felt like coming home to me. The fact that there’s an active queer community helped too.”

Boaz was quiet for a moment with an unusually contemplative expression. “I can see why you like it here so much.”

I squeezed his hand again, overcome with a rush of emotion. “I’m glad you’re here to share it with me this year,” I told him, meaning every word.

“Ellery!” a familiar voice called out. I turned to see Auden Frant, Forestville’s sheriff, approaching us with a friendly wave. That man knew how to fill out a uniform, damn. He was not my type, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate the view. I’d introduced myself when I’d moved into town, figuring it couldn’t hurt to let local law enforcement know a little about who was moving into their precious town.

“Hi there, Sheriff,” I greeted him. “Enjoying the festivities?”

Auden grinned, his salt-and-pepper mustache twitching. “Always do. Though I’m keeping an eye out for any snowball-related incidents.” He winked, then glanced at Boaz.

“Oh, right,” I said, remembering my manners. “Auden, this is Boaz Robson. Boaz, meet Sheriff Auden Frant.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Sheriff,” Boaz said, shaking Auden’s hand. “I gotta say, this is way more exciting than the neighborhood watch back in LA. Do you get to referee the snowball fight? I saw it’s students against teachers.”

Auden laughed, clearly charmed by Boaz’s quick wit. “Yup, I’m the official referee. But between you and me”—he leaned in conspiratorially—“I’m not above joining in if the teachers start losing too badly. My husband’s the English teacher, so I gotta defend his honor.”

“A man after my own heart,” Boaz declared, grinning. “If you need some extra help, you could deputize me for the night. I’ve got a mean throwing arm.”

I watched their easy banter, a warm feeling spreading through my chest. It was good to see Boaz fitting in so naturally, his outgoing personality drawing people in.

As we said goodbye to Auden and moved on, the cheerful clamor of the festival swelled around us once more. A glint of polished steel caught my eye, drawing my attention to a roped-off area where a group of burly men were gathering, holding axes.

“Well, would you look at that,” I said, a familiar surge of competitiveness rising in my chest. “They’ve got a wood-chopping contest.”

Boaz followed my gaze, his eyes widening. “Oh my god, El. You have to do it. Please tell me you’re going to do it.”

I chuckled, feeling a mix of excitement and hesitation. “I don’t know, it’s been a while since?—”

“Are you kidding me?” Boaz interrupted, bouncing on his toes. “This is your chance to show off those muscles of yours. Come on, big guy. Give the town a real show.”

I felt a rush of heat at his words, partly from embarrassment, partly from the way his eyes raked appreciatively over my body. “You just want to see me half-naked and sweaty, don’t you?”

“Guilty as charged,” Boaz grinned, not even trying to deny it. “But seriously, El. You’d crush this competition. Literally.”

I glanced back at the contest area, weighing my options. I was competitive enough that if I entered, I wanted to do well. I wanted to win, especially if Boaz was watching. I studied the form of the other guys who were practicing. Some were amateurs, others wielded the axe with ease. But I was faster than that, used to working with wood.

Oh, what the hell. If Boaz wanted me to enter, who was I to say no?

“Alright.” I squared my shoulders. “Let’s do this.”

Boaz let out a whoop of excitement, grabbing my arm and dragging me toward the registration table. As I signed up, I could feel the old confidence settling into my bones, the kind that came from years of physical training and the knowledge of what my body was capable of.

“You know,” I said as we walked toward the staging area, “I used to do this kind of thing all the time in the Army. Kept us in shape between jumps.”

“Oh yeah?” Boaz’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Tell me more about these sweaty, shirtless Army competitions.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Not quite like that. But it was good training. Taught us precision, control.”

As I took my place in line, waiting for my turn, Boaz leaned in close. “Well, hot stuff,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear, “show me what your gorgeous muscles can do.”

I swallowed hard, his words sending a shiver down my spine. Damn, the kid knew how to push my buttons. “I’ll do my best.”

The sharp crack of the axe meeting wood echoed through the air as I stepped up to my log. I hefted the axe, its weight familiar and comforting in my calloused hands. The crowd’s chatter faded to a dull hum as I focused, my world narrowing to the task before me.

“Gentlemen, on your mark,” the referee called out, “get set, go!”

I swung, and the satisfying thunk of metal biting into wood sent a jolt of adrenaline through me. The scent of fresh pine filled my nostrils as wood chips flew. Each strike was precise, calculated, the product of years of practice and innate strength.

“Yeah, baby! Show that log who’s boss!” Boaz’s voice cut through my concentration, and I grinned. His enthusiasm was infectious.

I redoubled my efforts, muscles straining as I brought the axe down again and again. The crowd’s cheers grew louder with each swing, but I tuned them out, focused on the rhythm of my movements and the log before me.

With a final, powerful strike, the log split clean through. I stepped back, chest heaving, as the judge raised his flag.

“Time!” he called out.

The crowd erupted in applause. I wiped the sweat from my brow, finally allowing myself to take in the scene. My eyes found Boaz in the crowd, his face lit up with a mixture of pride and something else…something that made my heart race even faster than the competition had.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have our winner!” the announcer’s voice boomed. “Ellery Wolfe!”

I made my way to the makeshift podium, still catching my breath. The announcer handed me a trophy and a ridiculously large, fluffy polar bear stuffed animal. I stared at it for a moment, bemused, before spotting Boaz pushing his way through the crowd.

With a triumphant grin, I held out the stuffed animal. “For you.”

Boaz’s eyes widened. He reached out, taking the bear with exaggerated reverence. “Why, Mr. Wolfe,” he said, his tone mock-serious, “I do declare, no one has ever given me such a magnificent beast before.”

I snorted, unable to keep a straight face. “Just don’t expect me to win you one at every fair.”

Boaz’s serious expression cracked, and he burst into laughter, clutching the bear to his chest. “Are you kidding? This bad boy is the best prize ever. I’m naming him Ellery Junior.”

I chuckled, shaking my head as we walked away from the wood-chopping area. “Ellery Junior, huh? Poor bear.”

Boaz clutched the stuffed animal tighter, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, it’s an honor. He’ll be the envy of all the other stuffed animals.”

As we strolled through the festival, the scent of cinnamon and pine filled the air. Colorful lights twinkled overhead, spreading more holiday cheer among the townspeople. I felt a sense of contentment wash over me, something I hadn’t experienced in a long time.

We stopped by Mrs. Peterson’s booth, where she was selling my hand-carved wooden ornaments. I didn’t have the patience to stand at a booth all day, so she sold them for a commission, and we both profited. “Ellery! So good to see you, honey.”

There was something so sweet about being called “honey” by a woman old enough to be my mom. It made me miss my own mother, who had sadly passed away way too young from complications after surgery. “You too, Mrs. Peterson. How’s business today?”

She gestured at her mostly empty table. “Your ornaments are selling like hot cakes, young man. I told you we needed more.”

I chuckled self-consciously. I hadn’t believed her when she told me the fifty ornaments I’d made wouldn’t be enough, but apparently, she’d been right. “I’m sorry for my lack of faith, Mrs. Peterson.”

“You should be. It’s disturbing.”

A Star Wars reference? My respect for her grew even bigger. “You’re right. It won’t happen again.”

“It had better not. And who’s this charming young man?” she asked, nodding toward Boaz.

I placed a hand on Boaz’s lower back, guiding him forward. “This is Boaz. He’s a friend of mine, visiting from LA.”

Boaz, true to form, launched into conversation. “Mrs. Peterson, such a pleasure to meet you. You have such gorgeous ornaments here.” He pointed at some hand-painted ones. “Did you make them all yourself? The detail is incredible. Oh my god, is that a tiny axe? Ellery, look!”

I watched as Boaz chatted animatedly, his hands gesticulating wildly, nearly knocking over a display in his excitement. I caught it just in time, steadying it with a practiced hand.

“Oops, sorry!” Boaz said, flashing me an apologetic grin.

As we continued through the festival, I hung back from time to time, watching Boaz interact with the various vendors and townspeople. His enthusiasm was infectious, his smile lighting up his entire face. I felt a warmth spreading through my chest that had nothing to do with the hot chocolate we’d consumed earlier.

My mind drifted, thinking about how quickly Boaz had become a part of my life. It had only been a few days, but I already couldn’t imagine my world without his vibrant presence. The way he filled the silences with his chatter, how he looked at me with those expressive brown eyes, the softness of his skin under my calloused hands…

“Earth to Ellery!” Boaz’s voice snapped me out of my reverie. He was waving a hand in front of my face with a concerned expression. “You okay there, big guy? You zoned out for a minute.”

I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I’m good. I was enjoying the view.”

Boaz’s face lit up with a smile that made my heart skip a beat. “Me too,” he said softly, reaching out to take my hand. “Me too.”