"Got it," I say softly. "You don't like chaos."
"I prefer order."
"And what happens when someone breaks one of your rules?"
His gaze holds mine, steady, unreadable. "Let's hope you don't find out."
It shouldn't sound like a promise, but it does. And I can’t help but wonder how long it will be before I find out. I’m not exactly the best rule follower.
My breath catches, heat curling low in my belly. I cover it by turning back to my ornament pile. "I'll try to behave, boss." I pick up my phone and scroll through my messages. There are several notifications from my group chat.
Madison: Okay but have you TALKED to him yet? Like really talked?
Lily: She's too busy making heart eyes at his spreadsheets.
Me: There are no heart eyes. We're just... coexisting.
Chloe: That's what Monica said about Brett before the barn incident.
Amber: The barn incident was LEGENDARY!
Me: There will be no incidents.
Maya: She's lying. I can feel it through the screen.
I pocket my phone before Justin can ask. He goes back into his office, and I spend the rest of the morning salvaging the discarded ornaments. We spend the afternoon exploring the closed park, moving through the empty lanes of candy-striped lampposts and twinkle lights. The snowfall slows to a whisper, and the world looks dipped in sugar.
I chatter about my favorite attractions. I love the carousel, the reindeer barn, the cocoa stand that serves peppermint whipped cream. Justin listens with his hands in his pockets; shoulders relaxed for once. He asks questions, small ones, but there's a shift in his voice, there is less command, more curiosity. He tells me more stories about growing up here and I can see he really loves this place.
When we stop by the reindeer pen, I stretch over the fence with a handful of feed. A velvet nose nudges my palm. "They love me."
"I'm sure they do," he says, coming up beside me. "You talk to them like they're humans, I half expect them to talk back."
“Don’t you talk to your coworkers?”
“What?”
"The reindeer are my coworkers. We just have different job descriptions and I get paid in money while they get paid in room and board."
Justin's chuckle is low, genuine. The sound makes my heart skip.
"There's eggnog in the cafeteria kitchen," he says as we walk back. "The spiked kind."
"You're offering me alcohol? Is this where you admit you're actually fun?"
"I'm offering you warmth. The alcohol is incidental."
"Still counts."
By the time we return to the lodge, dusk has settled and a soft glow from the fireplace paints everything gold. He puts away the food we’d gathered from the kitchen and I pour the eggnog into two mugs, watch him add nutmeg from a small tin. His movements are precise, almost ritualistic.
"You really can't just... wing it, can you?" I ask.
"Why would I? There's a right way to do things."
"Must be exhausting."
He looks up. "What must?"
