All except Vincent.
I run my fingers over a fir sapling’s soft needles and can’t stop the smile that curls up my face. The tag readsFraser Fir,but I name itNeedle McSproutface, imagining it with a tiny red bow. My scarf swings behind me as I spin to grab a lantern, but I stumble just slightly, my balance giving for a split second.
When I glance to the side, Vincent is already halfway to me. His whole body tensed, jaw clenched, tracking every shift in my weight. He saw it.
The sharp little pang that just knifed through my calf reminds me that I’m not invincible, no matter how high I’m riding today.
I can’t fake it. I can’t hide the pain. The second jolt comes harder, a brutal twist of an ache down the side of my leg, and I gasp. My knee starts to buckle.
Vincent’s there.
His arm wraps around my waist like iron, catching me just before I fall. His hand splays wide across my hip, pulling me flush to his chest, his body firm and steady. Like he’s been waiting all day for this. Forme.
“Easy, Girly,” he murmurs. His voice is low. Rough. So close, it skates across my neck. “We’ve got time.”
A flush spreads across my skin that has nothing to do with the cold. He’s body-conscious like Jude. But in this rougher, seasoned warrior way, because he’s seen all manner of injuries.
I look up at him, heart pounding. His eyes search mine—unreadable—and I can’t help the breath lodging in my throat. My fingers grip the fabric of his jacket, clinging like I’ve just been rescued from something worse than pain.
“Thanks, Vinny,” I whisper.
His name tastes like honey and heat on my tongue. His grip tightens just a little, as if he feels it too. The weight of the moment.
God, I want him to kiss me.
But instead, he eases me upright, holding me a second longer than necessary. I wish he wouldn’t let go.
“I’m okay,” I lie, smiling up at him as I straighten. I’m not. Not fully. My leg is throbbing, and I’m starting to sweat from the effort, but none of it matters when Vincent looks at me like that. Like an ancient guardian sworn to servitude to a goddess. Other than Jude, he’s the most protective. But Jude is protective in a different way. It’s etched in his healing bones. And his resolute nobility.
Vincent’s protectiveness radiates from his chest, hardens his muscles, and shows up whenever he tracks my movements. I could swear his tattoos themselves are watching me. But he’s also clocking everything around me. The fighter ready for a fight at any second.
He doesn’t speak again, but when I point to a rustic wooden reindeer, he picks it up without hesitation and adds it to the cart, no questions asked.
Whatever I ask for, he gets it. Not just because Raphael said to. Vincent wants me to want things. Like hewantsto give them to me.
My chest flutters at the two flatbed carts loaded up with everything I could possibly need to decorate the cabins.
“Think Seth could carve me a goat instead?” I tease, poking Vincent’s arm.
The corner of his mouth lifts in the smallest smirk, and it feels like winning a prize.
“Can you get me more birch?” I ask, my hand resting on his sleeve for a second too long, gesturing to the bundles at the end of the row.
“How many?”
“Five, please. And a couple more lanterns.”
I twirl before I think. Stupid. Too fast. The jolt of pain steals my breath, and I tip, but this time, Rory catches me.
“Ye’re gonna kill me, woman,” he huffs, hands wandering to my ass again.
I cling to him just long enough to get upright again, but when I look over Rory’s shoulder, Vincent’s jaw is locked tight. His eyes narrow slightly. He’s frustrated.
Not at me, though.Forme.
And at Rory for getting to touch me again.
Rory wiggles his brows like he’s fully aware, and I snort. “You gonna help or just stare at my ass all day?”
