Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

I had to hand it to Ethan, he managed to lug that enormous wreath all the way to the lobby without once cracking a smile. I mean, I’d even thrown in a few puns—something about "wreath-ing" the benefits of holiday spirit—but nothing. The guy was like Fort Knox, wrapped in flannel.

But you know what? That only made me more determined. If there was one thing I excelled at, it was making grumpy people squirm until they cracked a smile. And if I was going be staying in Blowing Rock for the next few weeks, I might as well have some fun.

“So, Ethan,” I said, placing my hands on my hips as I surveyed the room like I was some kind of holiday commander-in-chief. “You’re telling me this is your idea of Christmas decorating?”

The lobby hadsomuch potential. It was spacious, with rustic wooden beams and a stone fireplace that practically screamed for stockings and garland. Instead, two pitiful poinsettias sulked on the front desk like they were there against their will, and a wreath that looked like it had survived one too many winters hung limply in the corner.

“I thought it was...festive enough,” Ethan muttered, setting the new wreath down.

Festive enough?Festive enough?! Where was this guy from?

Mae scampered over to the fireplace, eyes wide as she stared at the empty mantel.

“Festive enough?” I repeated, arching an eyebrow. “Ethan, this is a crime against Christmas. I’m shocked the elves haven’t unionized and marched in protest by now."

He crossed his arms over his chest, giving me a look so deadpan it belonged in a morgue. "Not everyone has the same...enthusiasm for the holidays as you seem to."

“Oh, I’m not just enthusiastic,” I said, winking at Mae. “I’m determined. And you, Mr. Ethan, are officially my project.”

He blinked, a little bewildered, and I swear I saw a flicker of panic in his eyes. “Your...project?”

Mae clapped her hands, bouncing on her toes. “Daddy, she’s gonna make it all pretty! Please, can we put lights on the mantel? And stockings? And can we get a ginormous tree?”

Ethan looked between me and his daughter, and I could practically see the internal struggle happening behind those dark eyes. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Fine. But if there’s glitter?—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, no glitter, I got it,” I said, waving a hand dismissively. “But listen, Ethan, if you think you’re getting out of this without at least one strand of tinsel, you’re living in a fantasy, my friend."

He let out a sigh so deep, so tragic, it would’ve been right at home in a Jane Austen novel. "Just... do what you need to do. I’ll be in the kitchen."

“Ah, running away, are we?” I teased. “Afraid of a few Christmas lights?”

“I’m afraid of you,” he shot back, and then paused, eyes widening just slightly, as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Mae burst into giggles, and I couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at my lips.

“Smart man,” I said. “Now, off you go. I need to assess the situation, and your brooding presence is stifling my creative genius."

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath that I’m pretty sure was"God help me,"before retreating to the back.Mae looked up at me, eyes shining. “Can we make it super pretty, Holly? Like the Christmas movies?”

I knelt down to her level, tapping her little red hat with a finger. “Kiddo, we’re not just going make it pretty. We’re going make it magical. Deal?”

She nodded so hard the pom-pom bounced her hat right off her head. “Deal!”