Chapter Three

Emberleigh

The moment I stepped out of the dining room, I knew I needed air—fresh, biting, snowy air. The gingerbread contest had ended, and I’d survived it, but I could still feel the lingering sting of seeing Logan and Sasha playing it up at the next table. Even if Logan hadn’t asked for Sasha’s attention, he hadn’t exactly pushed it away either. And seeing them together hurt more than I cared to admit.

Pulling on my parka, I trudged toward one of the side exits. Holly Joy had said earlier that the courtyard and surrounding grounds were accessible if we stuck to the cleared paths—though ‘cleared’ was relative in this storm. Outside, wind-driven snow pricked my cheeks as I stepped onto a small terrace. The sky was a dull gray, flakes swirling in relentless sheets. Perfect conditions for filming some atmospheric B- roll like my producer wanted. Might as well work. Work was something I could handle. Emotions, not so much.

I set my camera bag down and slid a lens out. The crisp air burned my lungs, but I welcomed it. A few feet away, evergreen branches sagged under fresh powder, and the chalet’s decorative lights glimmered faintly through the haze. Framing the shot, I adjusted my camera’s focus, trying to find beauty in this enforced stay. The muffled hush of the world outside contrasted sharply with the tense hustle and bustle within.

“Hey, Emberleigh?” a soft voice called behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder to find the cook, Dante, lingering in the doorway, shoulders hunched against the cold, his breath fogging the air. He held his apron folded over his arm, as if he’d abandoned the kitchen mid-task.

“Dante.” I smiled at the shy young man. “What brings you out here?”

He stepped forward gingerly, as if afraid to intrude. “I saw you leave. I, um, thought maybe you could use a hand.” He gestured to my camera gear. “It’s snowy, and I…I can hold the camera bag if you like.”

Surprised, I hesitated. Dante seemed genuinely kind, and I could use another set of hands. “Sure, thanks.” I passed him the bag, lighter now that I had the camera in hand. “I’m just grabbing some footage. The network might appreciate the small-town Christmas ambiance, even if I’m stuck here.”

Dante nodded, bobbing his head. “Of course. Holly Joy says we should record memories. She’s big on…um…cherishing the moment.” His voice faltered, and I caught a flush in his cheeks. At the mention of Holly Joy, he looked both enchanted and terrified.

“Dante,” I began, curious, How long have you worked here?”

He exhaled, his cold breath forming tiny clouds on the air. “Only one season. I was hired for the holiday rush. But I…I stayed later last night to prepare for a special dinner. Got trapped by the storm.” He fumbled with the strap of my bag, clearly nervous. “Holly Joy is…she’s so cheerful. She makes everything feel hopeful. But I…” He paused, clearing his throat, “let’s just say that social skills are not my forte. There’s a reason I stick to the kitchen. I’m not sure what to think or do around Holly Joy. She’s always busy, always shining, and I’m just a cook, you know? You seem very nice, and smart, and I was wondering if I could get your opinion…since you’re also a woman.”

Ah. There it was. Dante had a crush on the concierge. Something about his earnest worry made me soften. “Dante, you’re talented, kind, and clearly care about what you do. That counts for a lot.” I tried to sound encouraging, despite my own emotional turmoil. “If you want to tell her how you feel, just do it. Life’s short, and it’s Christmas. We’re stuck here anyway…perfect chance, right?” My own advice pricked at my heart. If only I followed it myself. If only I could talk to Logan as openly as I urged Dante to talk to Holly Joy.

He perked up a little at my words. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll think it over some more.”

I nodded. “That sounds like a good plan. Just don’t wait until it’s too late.”

Dante nodded, and we stood together in the swirling snow while I captured a few more shots. The sound of distant laughter made us both turn. A group emerged from the chalet’s side door—Holly Joy, Celestia Moon, Pearl and Norman, Sasha, dressed in the tightest snowsuit I’d ever seen, Raul glancing at his watch, Jenna and Tyrese holding hands. And behind them, Logan, broad-shouldered in a dark coat, scanning the wide expanse behind the chalet with narrowed eyes.

My stomach fluttered. I immediately pretended to focus on my camera, adjusting angles as if the falling snow were the most fascinating subject ever. Dante shifted uncomfortably beside me.

Holly Joy’s cheerful voice carried: “Gather round, everyone! We’ve got our next activity lined up…a snowball tournament!” She clapped her bubblegum-pink mittened hands. “We’ll stick to the same teams as before. We’re doing a bracket-style snowball fight. Winners advance until we have a champion!”

A snowball fight. Seriously? I swallowed a groan. This had disaster written all over it. But judging by the nods and murmurs, no one was refusing. Some even looked excited. Sasha hopped in place, as if warming up for a workout. She caught Logan’s arm and said something that made him grimace. Emberleigh, calm down, I told myself. Breathe.

“Same teams,” Dante echoed quietly. “That means you and I, right?”

“Right,” I muttered. Great. At least I had Dante, even if he spent half the time mooning over Holly Joy.

Celestia stepped forward, robes tucked into a warm coat, hair braided with a sprig of mistletoe. “We’ll draw lines in the snow to mark the battlefield. Each round is timed. Make as many hits as you can. Most hits advance. Keep it playful, everyone! Your spirit guides are watching!”

Easier said than done. The instant our teams were assigned places, I noticed Sasha sidling up to Logan, whispering strategy and batting her fake lashes. Logan stood stiffly, arms crossed, jaw tight. Good. Maybe he wasn’t enjoying this as much as I feared. But that didn’t ease the knot in my chest.

Dante cleared his throat, pulling me aside as we crouched behind a snowbank. “I’m not much of an athlete,” he confessed. “But I’ll try.”

I mustered a smile. “Just focus on gathering snow. Make small, firm balls. Hand them to me. I’ll do the throwing.”

He nodded, grateful to have a simple task. Meanwhile, I peeked over the edge of our makeshift fort. Logan and Sasha crouched across the courtyard. Sasha adjusted her phone on a small tripod, determined to capture every angle. Logan rolled a snowball between gloved palms, scanning the field like a general before battle.

My heart hammered. I wanted to show Logan I wasn’t someone to dismiss. Two could play this game. I’d out-snowball him, show him I could handle myself perfectly fine, and that his presence didn’t rattle me one whit. Or else I’d vent my frustration by nailing him square in the shoulder.

Holly Joy’s whistle shrilled. “Go!”

Chaos erupted. Snowballs flew in white arcs. Jenna squealed as Tyrese shouted encouragement. Pearl and Norman argued over technique. Raul ducked behind a tree. Celestia danced gracefully, chanting something unintelligible, and somehow dodged every projectile.

I gritted my teeth and aimed carefully. My first throw at Logan missed by inches. He smirked—smirked!—and lobbed one back at me, grazing my arm. I huffed, annoyed, and fired another. This time I hit his coat. Sasha cheered theatrically, “We’ll get you next time!” Her shrill voice grated my ears.

Dante passed me another snowball, but his eyes drifted to Holly Joy, and he sighed dreamily. “Dante,” I hissed, “focus!” He snapped to attention, hastily shoveling more snow.

Logan hurled a shot that nearly caught me off-guard. I ducked, heart pounding, and retaliated with a quick flurry of throws. One skimmed Sasha’s hip, making her yelp. She tried to film and dodge simultaneously, complaining loudly that she couldn’t get a stable shot if we kept hitting her. I felt a surge of wicked satisfaction.

Logan shouted something at Sasha—probably telling her to pay attention. Emboldened, I stood up from behind the snowbank and hurled a perfect curveball. It whizzed across the courtyard and struck Logan on the shoulder. He jerked, eyes narrowing, then grinned in a way that made my stomach flip. He liked the challenge all right.

We locked gazes across the snowy expanse. Something crackled in that distance like a fire that refused to be put out. The zing of electricity between us felt sharpened, fueled by adrenaline, and my pulse quickened.

I scooped another snowball, ignoring the chill numbing my fingers. Sasha’s shrieks faded into background noise. The world narrowed to me and Logan, trading hits, ducking, weaving. Snowflakes clung to my hair, and my breath came quickly. I felt alive, furious, and strangely exhilarated.

Dante tried to keep up, handing me ammunition with shaking hands. I managed a few glancing hits on Logan, but he scored on me too, white powder exploding against my sleeve. My heart thumped at the playful malice in his grin. Damn him for making this fun.

Time blurred. Holly Joy’s whistle signaled round changes, and teams shifted opponents, but eventually, it came down to a final match—us against Logan and Sasha. Dante muttered apologies every time he fumbled a snowball. I patted his arm once, trying to reassure him. “We’ve done fine. Just keep at it.”

My throws became more aggressive, snapping through the air. One sailed too high, missing Logan entirely and careening into a pine tree behind him. Snow showered down, and in the confusion, I rushed forward, determined to get a closer shot. Bad move.

Logan, ducking another snowball, lunged sideways at the same moment I stepped out of cover. I tried to pivot, but my boot slipped on a patch of ice. With a startled yelp, I tumbled forward. Logan, reacting on instinct, grabbed for me. Our combined momentum sent us both skidding away from the group, stumbling behind a cluster of evergreens weighed down by snow.

My heart leapt into my throat. The sounds of laughter and shouts dimmed, muffled by branches and drifts. We crashed together, rolling in a flurry of white powder down a short embankment until we came to rest behind the largest pine, hidden from view. I gasped for air, blinking snow from my lashes.

Logan’s body lay half on top of me, his breath ragged. The frigid mountain air filled my lungs. My pulse was wild. We were alone, our teams and their antics out of sight. Just the two of us, tangled.

For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. I felt the strength of his arms braced on either side of me, his weight pressing down, not crushing but inescapable. He lifted his head, and our eyes met, we were only inches apart. His cheeks were flushed, his hair slightly disheveled beneath his beanie. My heart clenched with old memories.

I parted my lips, searching for words, but nothing came out. Logan’s gaze flicked to my mouth, and a jolt of heat shot through my veins.

He cleared his throat softly, voice husky. “You okay?”

I nodded, swallowing. “Yeah. Just…slipped.”

In the distance, I could hear voices calling our names, Sasha’s shrill tone, Holly Joy’s concerned chirp. But here, concealed behind the pine, we still had a moment of privacy

My breath formed small clouds between us. Logan’s arms caged me gently, his body heat radiating through our coats. He didn’t move to stand yet, as if uncertain. I could feel his heart pounding—or was that it mine?

I clenched my hands into fists, snow crumbling beneath my gloves. “Logan…” I began, voice catching.

A shadow passed over his face, something that made my chest ache. “Emberleigh,” he murmured, “I…” He stopped, his teeth worrying his bottom lip.

For a split second, I wanted to close that scant distance, to taste the warmth of his mouth, to rewrite the narrative of our past. But pride and hurt held me back. Before I could decide, muffled shouting broke the spell. Sasha’s voice, calling Logan’s name. Reality intruded harshly.

I pressed my palms against Logan’s chest, pushing gently. He hesitated, then rolled off me, both of us scrambling to stand. The snow parted with a soft crunch. We stared at each other, breath steaming, eyes brimming with everything unsaid.

“Later,” he whispered, dipping his head, eyes dark with meaning. Then he turned and headed back toward the courtyard, calling out something reassuring to the others. I followed a few steps behind, my knees shaky, pulse thrumming in my ears.

When we emerged from behind the pine, Sasha rushed up, phone in hand, ranting that she missed a perfect shot. Dante hurried over to me, panting, relief flooding his face. Holly Joy demanded to know if we were hurt. Pearl and Norman sniped about how we vanished without warning, nearly giving them both heart attacks, and the newlyweds exchanged confused glances.

I said nothing, just forced a grin and assured everyone I was fine. But inside, a wildfire of confusion and longing raged. The snowball tournament had ended in an unexpected tie—or maybe we lost or won, I couldn’t care less. I only knew that Logan and I had collided in more ways than one and despite my best intentions, I found myself falling for him all over again.