“There are sleighbell rides in town tonight,” I mentioned. “I was thinking we could walk. Get hot chocolate. Enjoy each other’s company.”
Her smile widened, genuine and a little shy. “That sounds perfect.”
Chapter Sixteen: Sleighbells
Jane
I changed three times before I settled on the sweater.
It was nothing dramatic. Soft wool, deep green, comfortable enough to breathe in without thinking about it. I told myself I was choosing practicality, not nerves, but my hands still hovered at the hem as if the fabric held a final decision I had not quite made. I smoothed it down, checked the neckline, then checked it again as though a different angle would reveal a hidden flaw.
What did it matter? It was going to be hidden under my coat, I finally decided.
The pool house mirror was small and slightly fogged at the edges from the heater’s uneven effort. The bathroom light flickered once, like it wanted to remind me not to expect too much. I looked like myself. I was pink-cheeked from the cold. Hair loose for once, even though I wasn’t used to it not being held back by something.
A date.
The word still felt unreal. Not because Braxton had asked, but because I had said yes without talking myself out of it, or making a list of reasons why I shouldn’t go, or if it was safer to keep things friendly.
Lucy leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed, watching me with an expression that suggested she had prepared commentary and was waiting for the right moment to deploy it.
“You look nice,” she said.
“I always look nice,” I replied.
“Yes,” she said calmly, “but this is a different category of nice.”
I reached for my gloves. “It’s just a simpleouting. I look presentable.”
Lucy’s grin widened. “I was going to say you look like a person who has been kissed.”
I stared at her.
She held up both hands quickly. “I was hoping. You look… hopeful.”
“I don’t know about hopeful,” I said, but my voice softened without permission. “I just feel… lighter.”
Lucy nodded, pleased. “Good. That is the correct emotional response to a man who looks at you like you are the only calm thing in a building full of chaos.”
I tugged on my gloves. “Are you going to stand here and narrate my feelings all night?”
“I would never,” Lucy said, then paused. “I would absolutely do that, but I won't tonight if you bring me back hot chocolate.”
I pointed at her. “Extortion.”
“Negotiation,” she corrected.
I grabbed my scarf and stepped into the hallway, heading down the stairs. The courtyard was quiet, snow tucked into corners and along the path. The inn looked like something from a postcard tonight. Lights in the windows. Garland along the railing. The warm glow of a place that promised comfort.
Inside, the Snowdrop Inn hummed with a softer energy than it had all day. Dinner was finished. Dishes were done or in progress as I had conned Meri, Lydia, and Kitty to do them which made me wonder if I would have broken plates in the morning. Guests drifted toward the stairs with the relaxed gait of people who were not responsible for anything beyondenjoying themselves. In the lobby, the tree glowed, ornaments reflecting lamplight. A fire crackled in the hearth, and the smell of pine mixed with cinnamon.
Braxton stood near the front windows, hands in his coat pockets, shoulders relaxed. When he turned and saw me, his face softened immediately, the corners of his mouth lifting as if his smile had started before he even realized.
For a moment, I simply watched him.
There had been so many days where he appeared in doorways, carrying boxes, offering help, making the world feel more manageable. Tonight he wasn't carrying anything. He was just waiting for me.
“Hi,” he said.
