3. CAMI

3

CAMI

T he diner was buzzed with excitement, every inch decked out in Christmas cheer. Twinkling fairy lights hung around the windows, reflecting off the glossy red booths and checkerboard floors. The jukebox in the corner played a soft medley of holiday tunes, adding to the 1950s charm that made Millie’s feel like a step back in time. Garland and tinsel wrapped around the counter stools, and a miniature Christmas tree stood proudly near the entrance, its branches heavy with ornaments and candy canes.

This was what Christmas was supposed to look like. I’d always toned it down a little for Dylan and his family, who were more worried about appearances and didn’t like it when there was an explosion of Christmas.

Now that I had no one to please—I hadn’t realized how much I’d tried to change for them until I’d been allowed to be myself again—I’d gone all out, and this place looked just how I’d wanted it to look.

I stood by the door, wearing a Santa hat, red coat, and black boots. With my phone, I snapped a few pictures for the diner’s social media page and to put on my own page, showcasing my talents.

Everything was perfect—the snow outside, the warm glow inside, the mingling of neighbors all bundled up and happy. It felt like something out of a Christmas movie.

“Cami! Over here!” Rae’s voice cut through the din, drawing my attention to the group coming through the door. Rae had Hunter on her hip, bundled up in a tiny puffer jacket that made him look like a marshmallow. Tanner followed close behind, tall and broad, his arm wrapped protectively around Rae. But it was the man with them that caught my eye.

He was huge , even compared to Tanner, with a rugged beard and sharp blue eyes that swept the room like he was scanning for threats. His presence was magnetic in that “don’t mess with me” kind of way. Everything about him screamed danger—from the set of his jaw to the way he carried himself, like he was ready for a fight.

But God, he was beautiful in a rough, untamed way that made my heart skip a beat.

“Cami, this is Mason. Mason, this is Cami.” Rae introduced us, her voice a little too cheerful, like she was trying to defuse whatever bomb was sitting between us.

“Mason,” I repeated, extending a hand out of habit. He didn’t take it, just nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes flicking over me briefly before settling somewhere over my shoulder.

Rude, but I couldn’t deny the electric charge that zipped through the air between us.

“Nice to meet you,” he grumbled, barely audible over the chatter around us.

“Likewise.” I dropped my hand, feeling the awkwardness settle between us. I splayed my hand open and pressed it against my thigh for a second. He had this way of looking right through me, as if he’d already sized me up and decided I wasn’t worth his time. But after he’d decided not to look at me, his eyes flicked back and locked on mine. Electricity ran down my spine. The intensity in his eyes made it impossible to look away and the world dimmed around.

“We’re so glad you’re doing this, Cami. It’s the talk of the town,” Rae said, and it snapped me back to reality.

I smiled at her. “I’m just happy everyone’s having a good time. It’s been a while since I’ve had a chance to organize something like this.”

Mason’s eyes flicked to mine again, a brief flash of something I couldn’t quite read—curiosity, maybe? Disdain? Either way, it was gone before I could figure it out.

“Seems like a lot of fuss for some cheap presents,” he muttered dismissively, and I bristled.

“It’s not about the presents,” I said, holding his gaze this time, refusing to be intimidated. “It’s about bringing people together, making memories, sharing in the Christmas spirit, and showing each other how much we care.”

A hint of a smirk tugged at his lips, and for a second, I thought I saw a crack in his armor. “Memories, huh? Those can be dangerous things. Sharing doesn’t always mean caring .”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

There was something heavy in his words. He wasn’t just skeptical about Christmas, was he? He was skeptical about people. And that was sad. Before I could press further, Tanner clapped a hand on Mason’s shoulder.

“Come on, Bear. Lighten up. It’s a party, not a damn interrogation.”

Mason grunted in response, but he didn’t argue, letting Tanner steer him toward the booth they’d claimed. As they walked away, I watched Mason. Bear, as Tanner had called him. It was fitting. Every powerful stride, every subtle movement screamed control and restraint. He was a man who didn’t let his guard down, ever. And maybe that’s what drew me to him because hell, I knew what that could be like.

It made me want to know more about him. What was he hiding from? What was he running from?

I snapped another picture, but my mind was on Mason. He was rough, rude, and more than a little intimidating, but there was something about him I couldn’t shake. He seemed like a puzzle that no one had been able to solve. And I’d always been a sucker for puzzles.

Betty stood at the front of the diner with a big, cheerful smile. She had her hands full with a large colorful Santa hat that brimmed with folded pieces of paper, each bearing the name of a participating town member.

Her husband, Sam, and daughter, Sandra, helped set up a small stage area with a festive backdrop of twinkling Christmas lights and garlands.

The diner was packed with townsfolk eagerly anticipating the drawing. The hum of conversations, punctuated by laughter and the clinking of coffee cups, created a lively atmosphere. Betty called for everyone’s attention by tapping a spoon against a coffee mug, and the room gradually quieted down.

“Alright, everyone,” Betty announced, her voice filled with warmth, “it’s time for the Secret Santa drawing!” She reached into the hat and pulled out the first name, holding it up for all to see. “Gregory Treeve, our esteemed mayor, will be our first participant.”

Gregory, a tall man in his sixties with salt-and-pepper hair, made his way to the front, his eyes twinkling with holiday cheer. Betty handed him the hat. The process continued, with each participant coming forward to draw a name, laughter and playful teasing accompanying each revelation.

Everyone who had signed up to participate drew names from the hat and smirked when they found out who they would be buying something special for.

I caught a couple of candid shots with my phone as they drew the names and a playful banter shot of those watching on. The atmosphere was warm and cheerful, with everyone in high spirits.

When we’d planned this event, there had been a lot more signups than we’d expected and it was going to be an exciting Secret Santa.

When all the participants were finally done, a ripple of excitement and conversation washed over the crowd, but Betty clapped to get everyone’s attention again.

“We have one more, ladies and gentlemen,” Betty called out.

There was a murmur in the crowd as people looked at each other. Everyone on the participation list had drawn a name. I couldn’t think of a name Betty might have missed—I’d been over the list myself a couple of times.

Who could it possibly be?

“Mason Thompson,” Betty said.

Everyone turned to look at him, and Mason looked incredibly uncomfortable. Like he would rather be anywhere but here.

“I think there’s been a mistake,” he grumbled.

“No, no,” Rae said. “It’s exactly how it should be. I nominated you.”

“What?” Mason asked, and his eyes shot fire. He pulled his lips up in a snarl, but when he glanced at Tanner, his buddy’s death stare was enough to get him to calm down again.

“It’s not such a big deal, Mason,” Rae laughed. If she was aware of Mason’s almost aggressive reaction to being nominated, she didn’t show it. “It’s going to be fun. It’s the season of giving, you know?”

Mason grumbled something under his breath that made Tanner shoot him another hard look before he stood and shuffled his large frame out of the booth. He stepped up on the stage, and that made him look even larger. He was a beast of a man, broad, thick beard, and those eyes… God , those eyes.

He reached into the hat and grabbed the last piece of paper.

When he read it, he frowned.

“Well, that’s a look of pure Christmas cheer if I’ve ever seen one,” Betty teased.

Mason looked at Betty with a deer-in-headlights look that was almost comical on a man with his bulk. He muttered something inaudible.

“I’m sure you can figure something out, Mason,” Betty said. “You’re a man of many talents, and I know you know how to make a plan.”

Mason still looked like he would have been more comfortable with a knife or a gun in his hand—in this setting, he seemed completely out of his depth, and I almost felt sorry for him.

“That’s it, ladies and gentlemen!” Betty cried out, finally wrapping up the drawing. With her broad smile, she shooed Mason off the stage as if she wasn’t at least half his size, and Mason made his way back to the booth. When he sat down, he looked relieved not to be the center of attention anymore.

Rae came to me when everyone started chatting.

“Well, that was interesting, huh?” She nudged me, her eyes bright. “I thought he could do with something a little more social.”

“The poor guy looked like he’d rather be dead,” I said with a chuckle. I didn’t know Mason personally, but I knew the look of pure terror when I saw it.

Rae laughed and nodded. “I thought it would be fun, draw him out of his shell, you know? He’s such a big, burly, fear-nothing type. It’s good to know that even he can be out of his comfort zone.”

I glanced in Mason’s direction. He was talking to Tanner with a very serious intensity. I felt sorry for the man—Rae was really going all out, teasing him when he clearly didn’t fit into this world. I wondered why she was so set on drawing him out. But then, he was a sight for sore eyes, I couldn’t deny that.

I didn’t hate looking at him. When he glanced at me and our eyes locked, a shiver ran down my spine.

I turned my attention back to the party, trying not to let myself get caught up in Mason. He was a man who preferred to be alone, and I doubted this strange attraction I felt toward him was mutual.

The diner was alive with laughter, the clinking of mugs and the happy chatter of people discussing gifts and ideas with each other, excited about the Christmas Party and the reveal that would happen on Christmas Eve. I’d never been to an event where everyone was this excited to be a part of it all. I moved through the crowd, snapping pictures of the smiling faces, the festive decorations, and the piles of wrapped presents stacked near the tree. Everything was perfect, the kind of day that made me feel like everything was going to be perfect in the end.

The special holiday treats were a hit—the eggnog lattes, the peppermint mocha cookies, and the cranberry scones that practically melted in your mouth. I caught Betty at the counter, laughing with a group of locals, her cheeks flushed with happiness, and I snapped another picture.

I felt a strange flutter of pride as I watched people enjoying themselves. I’d come to Silver Ridge to escape, to start over, and I’d found so much more than I’d bargained for.

I glanced over at Mason’s booth where Rae, Tanner, and Hunter sat together, chatting happily. Tanner had Hunter on his lap and they worked on Play-Doh together, squishing and kneading and balling it up to start over again.

Mason was there, leaning back with a beer in hand, his eyes scanning the room with that ever-watchful gaze. He looked out of place, like a wolf among sheep, but there was no denying how his presence seemed to anchor everything around him. Our eyes met, and for a moment, the noise of the diner faded into the background.

His gaze drew me. I wanted to go to him. He was gruff and rude, and I didn’t like him.

But the problem was, that wasn’t true. I did like him. And that irritated me because I didn’t want to like him.

I tore my gaze away, feeling a blush creep up my neck. I busied myself with my phone, scrolling through the pictures I’d taken. They were good—really good, actually. They captured the spirit of the event perfectly, all the joy and community that I’d been craving. This was the kind of exposure I needed. I had no idea what the future held, but if I could start a new life and a new business where I could create events like this where people could really come together, then it would be a good future.

I just had to put myself out there again and keep my options open.

The festivities finally wound down, and after I’d helped Betty clean up a few things, I headed back to the cottage I rented.

It was a charming little gem nestled right in the middle of Silver Ridge, just a short walk from the main street’s hustle and bustle. It was the kind of place you might see on a postcard, with its pale blue clapboard siding, white trim, and a sloping roof that gave it a cozy, welcoming appearance. A small covered front porch stretched across the front, and a pair of rocking chairs sat next to the front door, complete with hanging flower baskets that added a splash of color when the weather was warmer.

When I saw this place for the first time, I fell in love right away.

I pushed the cheerful red door open, stepped into the bright living room, and crossed the hardwood floors that had seen so many feet come and go. I added a couple of logs to the fireplace and stoked a fire until it crackled happily. Once it was warm, I sat down on the plush gray sofa and opened my laptop.

I started uploading the photos I’d taken, editing some of them to get the colors just right, to really set the mood.

While I worked, Mason’s face flashed before me. His gruff demeanor, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through me. It was maddening and thrilling all at once, like standing on the edge of a cliff with the wind howling in your ears. I tried to brush it off, telling myself it was just a passing attraction. Mason wasn’t someone who even liked being in town. It wasn’t like I was going to run into him again. Besides, he was rude and obtuse and that was every reason to dis like him.

The glow of my laptop cast a soft light around the room, joined by the warm light of the fire. I posted the pictures on my social media, typing out a quick caption about the event. My family and friends back in Denver would see this.

Until now, I’d flown below the radar, not posting, not reacting to others’ posts, not doing anything that would draw attention to me.

I’d felt like such an idiot, not knowing what everyone else had known, still believing in trusting when the rest of the world had known I’d been a fool.

But now, I’d been away long enough and it was time for me to put myself out there again. I had to stop hiding.

After all, I wasn’t the one who’d done anything wrong.

The likes and comments started rolling in almost immediately, people praising the decorations, the food, the sense of togetherness.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was building something again, piece by piece. It wasn’t just about running away anymore. It was about finding my way back, creating a life that was mine. And maybe, just maybe, figuring out why a man like Mason Thompson had me so damn intrigued.

After I hit Post, I glanced out of the window at the snow falling softly outside, covering everything in a perfect, pristine blanket. It was beautiful out there. Nothing like the messy life I’d left behind. But that was the point, wasn’t it? Change.

That was what I’d needed, and that was what I’d found.

What could possibly go wrong in a town like Silver Ridge?