“You’re something special, Bailey,” he says quietly, and I’m not sure if he meant for me to hear him or not. I can’t let this moment pass, though.
“Logan,” I begin hesitantly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I think... I think I might have been hasty about something.” Where I was exhausted before, now my heart hammers, and my fingertips tingle.
He turns to me, curiosity evident in his expression. “Oh? What’s that?”
I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. “I probably shouldn’t have told you not to kiss me,” I admit, my cheeks burning despite the cold. That’s not exactly what I said, but the meaning is there, and if he catches it and tells me he thought I was right, I might melt into his seat with embarrassment.
For a heartbeat, Logan is perfectly still. Then, moving with a swiftness that takes my breath away, he puts the truck in the park right there in the middle of the street, cups my face in his hands, and presses his lips to mine.
The kiss is everything I remembered and more. Logan’s lips are warm and sure, tasting faintly of peppermint and promise. I melt into him, my hands gripping the front of his coat. He kisses me as though he’s been holding himself back for too long—like I’m the exact flavor of cocoa he’s been longing for, and I taste just right.
My hands move up to bury in his soft hair. I don’t want to pull back or hold back. I want him to know everything I’m feeling for him. He moans and deepens the kiss, taking me right along with him on this sleigh ride.
When we finally part, both a little breathless, Logan kisses my cheek and then my temple. “I’ve been wanting to do that again since we were snowed in,” he confesses, his voice husky.
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “Me too,” I admit, feeling lighter than I have in years.
Logan puts the truck back into drive, and then his hand finds mine, our fingers intertwining naturally. I scoot over into the middle seat and rest my head on his shoulder. I yawn and he chuckles again. I gaze out at the passing scenery, marveling at how much has changed in just one night.
For the first time in longer than I can remember, I’m not afraid of what the future might hold. Instead, sitting here holding Logan’s hand and the memory of joy we brought to the Johnson family fresh in my thoughts, I find myself looking forward to tomorrow and all the tomorrows after that.
Once my head hits the pillow, I might not wake up until next week, but then it will be Christmas, so that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?
Logan tips his head to rest his cheek on me for just a moment, and the tenderness of that move positively melts me. He’s a good man. I don’t know what I did to find my way here, but it feels like a miracle after all that I’ve been through.
I drift in and out of sleep, my thoughts all over the place. At one point, I can see Gladys sitting across from me, saying, “I’m your guardian angel.” A smile ghosts across my lips. I could almost believe that now.
Seventeen
BAILEY
The air is thick with the scent of pine, cinnamon, and the faintest hint of peppermint, creating a heady cocktail of holiday aromas as we all work to finish our designs in time. Soft strains of classical Christmas music, provided by Evelyn, float through the air, punctuated by the occasional tinkling of ornaments and the rustling of garlands.
I stifle a yawn as I adjust a glass icicle on my tree. The late-night decorating spree at the Johnsons’ house has left both Logan and me exhausted, but the warmth in my chest when I think about the family’s joy makes it all worthwhile. As I step back to survey my work, I can’t help but marvel at how different everything looks—not just my display, but the entire atmosphere of the competition.
My snow-covered tree stands tall and proud, a modern interpretation of Christmas magic. Silver and ice blue dominate the color scheme, with unexpected pops of coral and deep purple. Geometric ornaments are arranged precisely. Olivia’s mathlete- “ew”-older-brother’s-best-friend Axel will love it. I have a checkered patterned tree skirt with large round ornaments tucked under the tree as a flip on the old “presents under the tree” tradition and a raspberry-covered duvet. The walls are adorned with framed ornaments. I’m in the process of adding silver reindeer, puffballs, and feathers to soften the overall look.
To the left, Logan’s display is a testament to classic Christmas charm. Rich navy blues and gold fill the space with richness. Vintage ornaments hang from the perfectly shaped tree, while a miniature village nestles at its base, complete with tiny ice skaters on a mirror-like pond. The scent of pine needles wafts from his station. I smile to myself, still wondering what he sprays on his fake fir branches to get that scent. My gloves will never be the same.
Olivia’s area is a riot of color and creativity that perfectly matches her vibrant personality. Her tree defies tradition, its branches adorned with repurposed materials like egg cartons for baubles and candy canes glued to mismatched cups to make candle holders. She also has paint brushes dipped in glitter, origami poinsettias made from sheet music, and strings of colorful buttons. The whole display is crafty and tasteful, and I’m impressed she has pulled it all together.
Across the room, Evelyn’s station is a study in natural elegance. She’s started adding the floral touches—most of them fake, though she’s left holes where she’s going to fill in with fresh flowers right before the competition. Delicate orchids peek out from between pine boughs while garlands of baby’s breath and holly berries wind their way around the trunk. The scent of fresh blooms mingles with the evergreen, creating an intoxicating fragrance.
Finally, Marcus’s display showcases his keen eye for design and attention to detail. His tree is a sleek, minimalist affair in white and silver, with carefully placed ornaments that catch and reflect the light. Around the base, he’s created a stylized cityscape, complete with twinkling LED lights that mimic a starry night sky. It’s modern and sophisticated, much like the homes he sells.
As I make my way back to my station, I catch Logan’s eye. He gives me a warm smile that sends a flutter through my stomach despite my exhaustion. The memory of our kisses in his truck is still fresh, a secret warmth I carry with me.
“How’s it going over there, Bailey?” he calls out, his voice carrying a hint of playful challenge. “Ready to admit defeat yet?”
At first, I’m a little shocked. No one has trash-talked another competitor, not even once. We couldn’t make this competition into a television show because there’s no drama. But then I realize he’s teasing me, flirting in front of everyone, and I laugh, shaking my head. “In your dreams, Brown. My tree is going to blow the judges away.”
Olivia pipes up from her station, her hands covered in glitter. “Don’t count your presents before Christmas morning, you two. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve yet.”
“Oh please,” Evelyn chimes in, her elegant fingers arranging a spray of orchids. “We all know natural beauty trumps artificial every time.”
Marcus pushes his glasses up his nose, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Sometimes, less is more.”
The banter continues, filling the ballroom with laughter and good-natured ribbing. We’re all in a place where we’re proud of our work and what we’ve each been able to do. There’s no clear-cut winner, all our designs are so very different, and each one has its own beauty and charm. As I listen to my fellow contestants tease each other, I’m struck by how much has changed. Not between them, but inside of me. Instead of being on guard and ready to lash out, I feel warm and at ease. Even if one of these people were to ask me about my design, I think I could share with them what I did and why I did it without coming apart at the seams.
