Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
His words hang between us, heavy and unexpected. I glance away, giving him a moment, trying not to push too hard. “That’s… I didn’t know.”
He shrugs, his voice gruff. “Not exactly dinner conversation, is it?”
Betty returns with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate, complete with marshmallows, whipped cream, a sprinkle of cinnamon, and a little candy cane sticking out one side. I stifle a laugh as she sets them down, knowing full well Cole’s trying to hide his scowl behind his mug.
“Go on, give it a try,” I say, watching him intently as he raises the cup to his mouth, takes a sip, and grimaces slightly. “It’s just chocolate, Cole. It won’t kill you.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” he mutters, though there’s a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“So… the Steeles, they practically own this town. Nine brothers,” I continue, feeling him relax slightly. “They must be pretty important to you.”
He nods, his expression softening for a split second. “Yeah. They’re good people. And Betty’s pretty much my second mom, and Knox… well, he’s like a brother.” He pauses, looking away, his jaw tightening. “My mom left when I was ten. Haven’t seen her since.”
His words hit me harder than I expect, and I find myself reaching across the table, fingers brushing his hand before I even realize it. He glances down at our hands, surprised, but he doesn’t pull away.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly.
He shrugs, pulling his hand back, though not unkindly. “Don’t be. My dad was all I needed, even if he was gone a lot.”
I wait, sensing there’s more, but not wanting to push. His eyes flick back to me, as if debating whether to keep going. Finally, he continues, his voice low, almost resigned.
“He was a hunting guide. One of the best in the county. Loved the mountains more than anything. Had a massive heart attack while out on a trip, right in the middle of deer season.”
I take a breath, feeling the weight of his words, the rawness in his voice. “That must have been… I can’t even imagine.”
He nods, his gaze distant. “I was in high school. One day he’s there, next day he’s not. Kinda throws things off balance, y’know?”
I nod, swallowing the tightness in my throat. “I’m glad you have the Steeles, though. Sounds like they were there for you.”
“They were,” he says, his voice softer now. “And Betty… she’s been putting up with my grumpy ass since I was a kid. Even now, she’d probably try to ground me if she thought it’d do any good.”
I chuckle, relieved to see a bit of lightness in his eyes. “Maybe you need grounding, Cole. A little reminder that Christmas isn’t all bad.”
“Oh, really?” His tone is laced with skepticism, but his gaze has softened, his guard down just a fraction. “And what would that reminder look like, exactly?”
I smile, leaning forward, feeling the playful tension rise between us. “Well, for starters, you could try enjoying that hot chocolate instead of glaring at it.”
He lifts his mug, taking a long, deliberate sip, his eyes on mine the entire time. “Happy now?”
“Ecstatic,” I reply, fighting a laugh. “But that’s just step one. Step two might involve… I don’t know, hanging a few lights, maybe helping out with the town’s Christmas festival. Show Copper Mountain you’re not as much of a Scrooge as everyone thinks.”
He raises an eyebrow, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “You want me to hang lights?”
“It’s good for the soul,” I say with a shrug, pretending to be nonchalant, even though I can feel the heat building between us. “You could even wear a Santa hat if you’re feeling wild.”
He snorts, shaking his head, but his gaze lingers on mine, intense and unguarded. “You really think that’ll change me?”
“Maybe not change you,” I admit, feeling my cheeks heat up under his stare. “But it might show you something new.”
He watches me for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and then he leans forward, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “You know, Ivy, for someone who talks about Christmas spirit, you’re awfully stubborn about making people fall in line.”
My pulse quickens, but I hold his gaze, unflinching. “Maybe some people need a little push.”
His lips curve into a smile, one that’s slow and dangerous, and it does things to me I can’t quite explain. “Careful, Ivy. You keep pushing, and you might not like what you get.”
I feel a shiver run through me, but I lift my chin, refusing to let him see how much he affects me. “I think I can handle it.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” he says, his eyes darkening as they drift down to my lips, lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary. “But maybe you’re biting off more than you can chew.”
“Is that a challenge?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.