Something shifted in Declan’s expression, a softness that looked like understanding mixed with something that might have been anger on my behalf.
“Holly,” he said gently, “you know you matter, right? Not because of what you can do for other people, but because of who you are.”
The words hit me harder than they should have, mainly because I wasn’t entirely sure I did know that. Derek had been very good at making me feel like my value was conditional, like I had to earn consideration through usefulness rather than simply existing as a person worth caring about.
“I’m working on believing that,” I said honestly.
“Good,” Declan said simply. “Because it’s true.”
We stood in the now-warm community center, surrounded by Christmas decorations with snow falling outside, and I realized I was falling for Declan Hayes in ways that had nothing to do with his appearance or his kindness and everything to do with the way he made me feel like I was worth believing in.
Which was exactly why I needed to be careful.
“I should really go,” I said, pulling my coat on with movements that felt deliberately final. “Long day tomorrow—we need to finalize the tree lighting ceremony details.”
“Right,” Declan said. “The tree lighting.”
We parted ways with a brief smile, and as I drove home through the increasing snow, I found myself thinking abouttomorrow’s tree lighting ceremony and the outfit I’d been planning to wear—a deep red dress that flattered my curves and made me feel confident and beautiful. I’d chosen it because I wanted to look good, but now I wasn’t sure if I wanted to look good for me or for Declan.
I should probably figure that out before I put myself in another situation where professional boundaries feel increasingly theoretical.
Some heating crises, apparently, were easier to solve than others. And some almost-kiss moments were harder to forget than others, especially when they involved kind, protective men who made you want to believe in yourself again.
The tree lighting ceremony was tomorrow, and I had less than twenty-four hours to decide whether I was brave enough to risk trusting someone again, or if I was going to keep hiding behind professional boundaries until Declan gave up and returned to his real life in New York.
Either way, I was definitely wearing the red dress. Because, regardless of my emotional confusion, I looked fantastic in red, and sometimes that was confidence enough to start with.
Seventeen
DECLAN
Public Declaration
The town squarelooked like something from a Christmas card that had been designed by someone with an unlimited budget and a serious addiction to holiday decorations. Snow was falling in fat, lazy flakes that caught the light from about seventeen thousand twinkling bulbs, and the massive evergreen tree stood ready for its grand illumination like a forty-foot Christmas diva waiting for her spotlight moment.
The entire population of Everdale Falls seemed to have turned out for the tree lighting ceremony, bundled in coats and scarves and the kind of enthusiastic holiday spirit that made grown adults sing carols in public without embarrassment. Mrs. Peterson was directing a group of children in some kind of choreographed candy cane dance, and the hot chocolate station was doing business that would have made Starbucks jealous.
And then I saw Holly, and suddenly the rest of the winter wonderland faded into background noise.
She was wearing a red dress and matching coat that should have been illegal in at least twelve states. Not because it wasrevealing—it was actually quite modest, hitting just below her knees. But the way it fit her curves, the way the color made her skin glow in the Christmas lights, the way she moved through the crowd with confident grace while snowflakes caught in her dark hair—it was enough to make a man forget his own name, let alone his commitment to keeping things friendly and not ravage her with my thick cock kind of hot.
“Fuck, she’s gorgeous,” I muttered under my breath, then immediately looked around to make sure no children had overheard me expressing inappropriate thoughts about the festival coordinator at a family-friendly community event.
“Language, young man,” Mrs. Henderson said cheerfully as she passed by with a thermos of something that smelled suspiciously like spiked cider. “Though I have to say, Holly does look absolutely stunning tonight.”
“She does,” I agreed, watching Holly greet neighbors and check on vendors with the kind of easy confidence that made it obvious she belonged here, that this community valued and appreciated her in ways her ex-boyfriend, and ex-job, clearly never had.
The thought of Derek—of what Matt had told me about the disgusting financial betrayal, the emotional manipulation, the way he’d left Holly questioning her own worth—made something dark and protective rise in my chest. Because watching Holly now, seeing her natural grace and genuine care for the people around her, it was impossible to understand how anyone could treat her as anything less than precious.
“Declan!” Holly called, waving me over to where she was standing near the hot chocolate station. “Can you help me with the mistletoe situation?”
The mistletoe situation. Right. Mrs. Hall’s strategic placement plan, which I’d somehow managed to forget aboutdespite the fact that it was written in my planning notes in Holly’s distinctive handwriting.
“What kind of help do you need?” I asked, approaching carefully and trying not to notice how the Christmas lights made Holly’s eyes sparkle like something out of a holiday romance movie.
“Mrs. Hall’s grandson is supposed to be hanging the mistletoe, but he’s twelve and apparently afraid of heights,” Holly explained, gesturing toward a ladder that was currently being eyed with suspicion by a kid who looked like he’d rather be literally anywhere else. “We need someone taller and less likely to fall off a ladder in front of three hundred people.”
“I can handle ladder duty,” I said, though I was acutely aware that hanging mistletoe with Holly felt like tempting fate in ways that we were not equipped to handle.
