Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Ronan

I guided Emery through the crowded market, my hand hovering near the small of her back without actually touching her. The gesture was protective, professional—at least that’s what I told myself. But every time she darted forward to examine something sparkly or festive, the absence of that almost-contact left me feeling oddly deprived.

“Oh my God, look at these!” She stopped at a stall and gently touched the string of a hand-painted ornament. “They’re gorgeous.”

The childlike wonder in her expression stirred something in my chest I’d buried a long time ago—right alongside the memory of my grandmother’s kitchen filled with the scent of gingerbread and my grandfather’s deep laugh as he snuck me extra cookies when she wasn’t looking.

“They’re just ornaments.” I stepped closer to peer over her shoulder.

“Just ornaments?” She spun to face me, close enough that I caught the hint of vanilla in her perfume. “Each one tells a story. Look at this one.” She pointed to a delicate glass sphere with a winter scene inside. “Someone took the time to paint that tiny little house, those microscopic footprints in the snow. That’s not just an ornament, that’s magic.”

The same care and attention to detail I’d put into my window display. She’d seen that too, had understood what it meant without me having to explain.

“You really meant it?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. “About my window?”

Her eyes softened as she looked up at me. “Of course I did. I picked it because it was beautiful in its own way. Like you. I mean, like your management style. Precise. Thoughtful. Unexpectedly artistic.”

The way she stumbled over her words, trying to backtrack, made something warm unfurl in my chest. “Unexpectedly artistic?” I stepped closer, enjoying how her breath hitched. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or insulted.”

“Definitely flattered.” She bit her lip like she wished she could take it back.

The gesture drew my attention to her mouth, and I was transfixed by the way her teeth worried at the soft pink flesh. The urge to reach out, to brush my thumb across that lower lip and ease the tension there, was almost overwhelming. I forced my hands to stay at my sides, even as every instinct screamed at me to close what little distance remained between us.

How had this woman so easily walked into Wrap It Up and completely wrapped me, Levi, and Max up? She was attractive, sure, but there was something else about her that had me wanting to throw myself into her orbit.

A nearby vendor called out about hot chocolate, and Emery’s eyes lit up again. Before I could stop myself, I was steering her toward the stall. “Two, please,” I told the vendor, ignoring Emery’s protests about paying me back.

“With extra whipped cream,” I added, remembering how my grandmother always said proper hot chocolate needed a cloud on top. “And crushed candy cane.”

Emery’s eyebrows shot up. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a whipped cream and peppermint kind of guy.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” I handed her a steaming cup, our fingers brushing. The jolt I felt had nothing to do with the heat of the drink.

“I’d like to.” She quickly raised the cup to her lips, leaving a dot of whipped cream on her nose.

Without thinking, I reached out and wiped it away with my thumb. She froze, eyes wide, and I realized what I’d done.

“Sorry.” I wrapped both hands around my cup. “Force of habit.” It wasn’t, and we both knew it.

“Right.” She stared at me, seeming to see right through my carefully constructed walls. “Because you often go around wiping whipped cream off people’s noses?”

“Only the ones who pick my window displays.” I surprised myself with my playful tone. When was the last time I’d flirted with a woman? It felt like it had been forever, and I felt a little rusty.

Her answering smile was bright enough to rival all the market’s twinkling lights combined. “Lucky me then.”

We loaded up on market food and I led Emery to one of the wooden picnic tables. Her eyes had grown comically wide when I’d insisted on getting one of everything like she’d joked about earlier. We had an array of street tacos, pierogies, and pizza pockets in the shape of candy canes.

“You really didn’t have to get all this.” She eyed the food with barely concealed hunger.

“Eat.” I pushed a container toward her. “Before it gets cold.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, diving into a taco with such enthusiasm that sauce dripped down her chin. “So, what are your plans for Christmas? Big family gathering? Fancy party?”

The question hit hard, memories of my grandmother’s sugar cookies and my grandfather’s awful Christmas sweaters flooding back. “No,” I said shortly, stabbing a pierogi with more force than necessary. “Staying home. Probably ordering Chinese takeout with Max and Levi like we do every year.”

“Oh.” She tilted her head, studying me with those perceptive eyes that seemed to see straight through my defenses. “That sounds...”

“It’s fine.” I shrugged, trying to keep my voice neutral. “Haven’t really celebrated since I was sixteen. After my grandparents passed, no one seemed to want to carry on the family traditions.”

“I’m so sorry.” Unlike most people who offered empty platitudes, she actually sounded like she meant it. “Were they the ones who made Christmas special?”

I nodded, surprised that I wanted to share more. “My grandmother would hang stockings for each of us every year and spend the entire week baking. The whole house smelled like gingerbread and cinnamon. My grandfather...” I swallowed hard, the memory both sweet and painful. “He’d make us each an ornament every year, and we’d get to hang it on the tree.”

“They sound wonderful.” Her hand twitched on the table like she wanted to reach for mine, but she held back.

“They were.” I cleared my throat, trying to shake off the melancholy. “After they died, my parents and aunts and uncles were too busy to bother with traditions. They said we were too old for that stuff.” The bitterness in my voice surprised even me.

“That must have been hard.” Her eyes were soft with understanding.

“What about you?” I was desperate to change the subject. “Going to your parents?”

She laughed, but it held no humor. “Unless I sprout wings and learn to fly across the Atlantic, no. My parents live in Portugal, and my budget currently stretches to about as far as the corner store. And that’s if I’m feeling extravagant.” She traced a pattern on the table with her finger, not meeting my eyes. “Besides, they aren’t the nicest people in the world. Think ice sculptures with better fashion sense. I was honestly a bit relieved when they moved so far away.”

“Portugal?” Something about her casual mention of her parents’ coldness stirred an uncomfortable feeling in my gut.

Maybe because I sometimes felt like an ice sculpture.

“They had me a little later in life and retired right after I finished college. They said they were tired of the rat race.” She shrugged, picking at her food. “I try to visit them during the holidays when I can, but... well, this year has been complicated.”

Something in her tone made me think that was an understatement. I remembered her panic when I’d threatened to call her previous employer, and what Levi had told me.

“So, you’ll be alone?” The thought bothered me more than it should have.

“Hey, being alone is underrated.” She forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “No one to judge you for eating Christmas cookies for breakfast or watching cheesy holiday movies in your pajamas all day.”

The image of her spending Christmas alone in a motel room made my chest tight. “You could join us.”

She dropped her fork. “What?”

“For Christmas. With me, Max, and Levi,” I rushed on before I could second-guess myself. “No pressure.”

The smile that spread across her face was like watching the sun rise. “I’d like that if they’re okay with it.”

I knew they would be.

We finished our food, trading comfortable silence punctuated by her occasional happy noises when she tried something particularly good. Each little hum of pleasure sent an unexpected warmth through me, and I’d watched her more than my own plate.

“I’m going to use the restroom and then we can go.” She stood, grabbing the trash.

An idea popped in my head. “I’ll wait here.” I tried to sound casual.

The moment she disappeared into the crowd, I was on my feet, weaving through the mass of people back to the ornament stall. The ornament she’d admired earlier still hung there, and I examined it closer. Just like she’d said, the tiny details were extraordinary.

“Beautiful piece, isn’t it?” The vendor smiled knowingly. “Your girlfriend seemed quite taken with it earlier.”

“She’s not-” I started to correct her, then stopped. What was the point? “Yes, she did. I’ll take it.”

As the woman carefully wrapped the ornament in tissue paper and placed it in a box, my mind wandered to how Emery’s face would light up when she opened it.

“Would you like me to add a personalized message?” The vendor pulled out a calligraphy pen and a card.

I hesitated. What could I possibly write that wouldn’t give away too much? That wouldn’t reveal how much her simple joy had started to crack the ice I’d built around myself?

“If you could please write ‘To Emery, may your holidays be filled with magic.’” It was sappy as hell, but something told me she’d appreciate the sentiment.

The vendor’s knowing smile widened as she penned the message in elegant script. “Sometimes the best gifts are the ones that show we’re paying attention.” She secured the box with a red ribbon.

I paid and took the gift as I spotted Emery making her way back through the crowd. I met her back at the table, trying to pretend I hadn’t been up to something.

“Sorry that took so long, the line was ridiculous.” Her eyes immediately went to the small box in my hand. “What’s that?”

“Nothing important.” I resisted the urge to give her the gift right then and there, my fingers tightening around the small box until the edges dug into my palm. I wasn’t sure I could handle her reaction, and it was better to wait until I dropped her off so I could maintain some semblance of control over these inconvenient feelings. “Ready to go?”

She nodded, tucking a strand of wind-blown hair behind her ear. “Thank you for this. All of it. The food, the company... it’s been really nice.”

I allowed myself a small smile before I remembered the real reason I was the one here with her. “It has, but I need to confess something…”

“Oh? I do love juicy confessions.”

I cringed thinking about what I was about to tell her. It was childish and I hoped she didn’t think we’d deceived her. I mean, we had in a way, but not for nefarious reasons. “The window decorating was a competition to see who would get to drive you home… and take you to dinner.”

Her lips parted and her brow furrowed as she processed my confession. The confusion in her expression made my stomach twist—I hadn’t meant to make it sound like spending time with her was some kind of punishment. If anything, it was the opposite problem. I was enjoying myself far too much.

“But you wanted to take me to dinner? Right?” she asked hesitantly, wrapping her arms around herself against the winter chill… or maybe to put more distance between us.

“Of course I did!” I blurted out a bit too eagerly. The very thought that she could think I considered this an obligation rather than something I’d actively competed for, made the food I’d eaten threaten to come back up.

“And Levi and Max both did too?”

“Yes.” I didn’t quite know how to go about this seeing as my two best friends and business partners also seemed to be captivated by her.

She nodded and started to walk back toward the car. I walked closer than necessary, my hand returning to that not-quite-touching position at the small of her back.

To think that this could have been Levi or Max with her tonight, made something unfamiliar burn inside me—and not a bad burn. As friends, liking the same woman was something we’d never had to navigate before, but it looked like we’d soon find out where the path led us.