7. Nicholas

CHAPTER 7

Nicholas

When I pulled up in front of Markus’s rental, he was already on the porch, leaning against one of the posts like something out of a magazine. He had that easy, put-together vibe that made my mouth go dry and my brain scramble for excuses to look anywhere else. His dark hair was slightly mussed, the kind of messy that took effort to get just right, and his blue eyes were sharp, like they caught every detail without trying. He wore a navy wool coat, the collar turned up against the December chill, and a gray scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. Even in jeans and sturdy boots, he looked like he didn’t belong in Juniper Hollow—more like he’d been dropped here by mistake on his way to someplace bigger. Classier.

I rolled down the window. "You waiting for an invitation, or are you getting in?"

Markus’s grin spread slow and warm, like he had all the time in the world. He pushed off the post and sauntered to the passenger side. When he slid into the seat, the faint scent of cedar and something clean—soap or maybe his aftershave—wafted into the car.

"Thanks for doing this." He fastened his seatbelt and gave me that look, the one that made me feel like he could see past every defense I’d ever built.

“No problem,” I muttered, my grip tightening on the wheel.

His smile didn’t waver, but something in his expression shifted, like he was cataloging every awkward twitch and making a mental note to revisit them later.

I cleared my throat, focusing on the road ahead. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Markus didn’t reply immediately, and I risked a quick glance at him. He was looking out the window, his eyes tracing the quiet streets as we drove past modest homes decorated with string lights and inflatable Santas half-sunken into front yards. The occasional wreath hung on a door, and now and then, a lit reindeer or a snowman twinkled through the bare branches.

“You’re lucky,” he said finally, his voice thoughtful.

I frowned. “Lucky? How do you figure that?”

“To live in a place like this.” He gestured toward a row of houses wrapped in garlands and twinkling lights. “Feels like a Christmas card.”

I snorted. “Yeah, it’s cute, I guess. If you’re into that sort of thing.”

“And you’re not?”

I shrugged, rolling to a stop at the intersection. “I’ve lived here my whole life. The charm wears off after the first decade.”

He chuckled, the sound low and easy. “I don’t know. Seems like it suits you.”

I glanced at him, unsure how to take that, but his face gave nothing away. Instead, he leaned back, relaxed.

“Where are we headed first?” he asked.“The square,” I replied, easing forward as the light turned green. “There’s a holiday market set up for the weekend. Lots of seasonal stuff, handmade crafts, and overpriced cocoa.”

Markus chuckled, the sound low and easy. “Sounds like exactly what I need to see. Any chance they sell something to keep you from scowling all afternoon?”

I shot him a sidelong look, unable to help the smirk tugging at my lips. “You’re awfully optimistic for someone who just got here.”

“Optimism’s part of the charm.” He grinned, and the way it lit up his face made me suddenly grateful for the distraction of driving. “Besides, you’ll thank me when you see the town through fresh eyes.”

The square buzzed with holiday energy, a mix of voices and laughter carried on the crisp air. Garlands of twinkling lights stretched from corner to corner, and a towering Christmas tree stood in the center, decked out in ornaments made by the local elementary school kids. They weren’t perfect—crooked stars, lumpy snowmen, blobs that were supposed to be reindeer—but somehow that made it better. Real.

Vendors lined the cobblestone street, their booths draped in red and green. The smell of cinnamon and sugar wafted from a stall selling roasted nuts, mixing with the rich, dark aroma of freshly brewed coffee from the café across the street. A trio of carolers in matching scarves stood near the fountain, harmonizing a cheery rendition of “Deck the Halls.”

Markus shoved his hands into his coat pockets as we walked, his eyes taking everything in. "Quaint. Feels like I’ve walked into a holiday postcard," he said, his voice warm with amusement.

I shot him a sideways glance. "We prefer 'charming.' But yeah, if it makes you feel better, go ahead and call it that."

Ignoring my retort, Markus nodded toward a booth selling knitted hats shaped like reindeer heads. "You wear one of those yet? They look like they’d suit you."

I snorted, tugging the zipper on my jacket higher. "Funny. I’ll grab one for you on the way back. Something tells me you’d pull it off better."

"Flattering me already?" His voice dipped just enough to make my stomach flip, but his expression stayed playful, teasing.

"Not on your?—"

"Hi, Nicholas!" a cheerful voice cut me off, and I turned to see Mrs. Ruiz from the bakery, her arms laden with loaves of her signature cranberry-orange bread. "Are you bringing your friend to meet the town?"

Markus raised an eyebrow, but before I could answer, Mrs. Ruiz had shifted her attention to him. "I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Clara Ruiz. Welcome to the Hollow!" She juggled her load to offer a hand.

Markus stepped forward smoothly, taking her hand without hesitation. "Markus Webber. It’s nice to meet you, Clara."

Mrs. Ruiz practically beamed. "A charmer. You’re in good company, Nicholas."

I groaned under my breath as Markus turned that smile on me, his eyebrow arched like he knew something I didn’t.

"Hey, Nicholas!" a voice called from behind us, and I turned to see Bill, the town’s mechanic, waving as he walked by. "How’s Aiden doing? Heard he’s feeling better, huh?"

"Thanks, Bill," I replied, nodding. "He’s getting there."

"Great to meet you," Bill said to Markus with a friendly nod. "Enjoying the Hollow so far?"

"Thanks, I am," Markus replied, returning the gesture. "It’s beautiful here."

We kept walking, and as we passed a booth selling festive candles, a woman waved at me. "Nicholas, looking good today! Hope you’re doing alright."

I waved back. "Hey, Karen! Doing fine, thanks."

Markus glanced at me, eyes dancing with curiosity. "Seems like everyone knows you here."

"Small town," I muttered. "People talk. And I work at the senior living center, so..."

"So, you’re the unofficial mayor," he teased with a smirk.

I shot him a look. "Hardly," I said, gesturing toward a booth selling candied apples. "You want a sweet treat?"

He laughed, a warm, genuine sound that made my cheeks flush just a little. "You’re one of a kind."