“Yes.” He paused, wondering how much to reveal. “I’ve lived in other places. Cities, mostly. Never felt like I belonged. Here, I’m part of something larger than myself.”
Sorcha’s eyes never left his face, and Christopher felt oddly exposed under her attentive gaze. Before she could respond, Ellie returned with their hot chocolates, two massive mugs topped with whipped cream, chocolate shavings, and miniature candy canes hooked over the rims. A dusting of cinnamon turned the steam into perfumed clouds.
“Pancakes will be right up,” Ellie said with a wink.
Sorcha wrapped her hands around her mug, and Christopher watched as she closed her eyes briefly, inhaling the rich chocolate scent. The simple pleasure on her face made his chest tighten.
“So you’ve lived elsewhere,” she prompted, returning to their conversation. “What brought you to Bear Creek in the first place?”
Christopher took a sip of his cocoa, buying time. How to explain without revealing too much? “I was passing through, actually. My car broke down some years ago, and while I waited for parts, I stayed at the cabins. A temporary stay, or so I thought. But then winter came, and I saw how the town transformed. How people came together. I never left. Because I had been transformed, too.”
He didn’t saybecause I finally stopped running from myself. But the words were there in his head, and there was undeniable truth in them.
“Here we are,” Ellie announced, setting down a towering stack of golden pancakes. Steam rose from the plate, carrying the scent of buttermilk and vanilla. A small pitcher of honey sat alongside, amber and thick.
“That looks incredible,” Sorcha said, eyes widening as Christopher drizzled the honey across the top pancake.
He pushed the plate toward her. “Ladies first.”
Sorcha cut a perfect triangle, making sure to get plenty of honey, and lifted it to her mouth. The moment the bite passed her lips, her eyes closed, and a soft moan escaped her…a sound that sent heat rushing through Christopher’s body. Her pleasure was so unguarded, so genuine, that he had to look away.
“Oh my goodness,” she mumbled around the mouthful. “That’s…that’s…”
“Local honey,” Christopher supplied, finding his voice despite the tightness in his throat. “From hives kept at North Peak Pines.”
Sorcha swallowed and immediately cut another piece. “I’ve never tasted anything like it.”
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, sharing the stack between them. Christopher watched her, mesmerized by her hands, her mouth… All of her.
His bear lay down with its chin on its paws, content to watch her enjoy every bite.
When half the stack had disappeared, Christopher gathered his courage. “Your turn. Tell me about you.”
Sorcha’s fork paused halfway to her mouth. “Me? I’m not that interesting.”
“I doubt that very much,” he whispered.
She set her fork down, a hesitant smile playing at her lips. “I’m not used to talking about myself. Usually, I’m the one asking the questions.”
“Then this should be enlightening,” Christopher teased, and then cleared his throat as he put on a serious voice. “How would you describe yourself to a curious local in a small-town feature?”
That earned him a genuine laugh, the sound warming him more effectively than the cocoa. “Fair enough.” She took a sip from her mug, leaving a smudge of whipped cream on her upper lip that she quickly wiped away. “I’ve been with Wanderlust Magazine for almost fifteen years now. Started as a fact-checker, worked my way up to features.”
“And before that?”
Something flickered across her face, a shadow, there and gone in an instant. “Journalism school. A few local papers.”
“Why journalism?” he pressed gently, sensing there was more to the story.
Sorcha traced the rim of her mug with one finger, her gaze drifting to the window where snowflakes continued to fall. “Itwas a way out,” she admitted finally, her voice softer. “I grew up in a town not unlike this one. Beautiful, close-knit…suffocating, at least for a teenager with wanderlust.”
She met his eyes again, and the vulnerability he saw there made his heart ache. “Journalism was my ticket to see the world. To experience everything beyond the boundaries of my hometown. Since then, a part of me has been scared that if I stopped moving, those negative feelings would catch up with me again.” When she met his gaze, it was as if she was surprised to have made the admission aloud.
Christopher nodded, understanding flooding through him. No wonder she’d seemed both drawn to and resistant to Bear Creek’s charm. It represented everything she’d once run from.
“Do you ever miss it?” he asked. “Your hometown?”
Sorcha’s smile turned wistful. “Sometimes. Around the holidays, mostly. There’s something about Christmas that makes you long for roots, you know? For traditions and familiar faces.” She shook her head slightly. “But then I remember how desperate I was to leave, and I wonder if I’m just romanticizing it now.”
