“Whydon’t we head to the Nutcracker Emporium like we planned, and thenmaybe I could buy you a cup of that amazing hot chocolate youmentioned?” His expression is hopeful and, if I’m not mistaken, hischeeks are tinged with a hint of pink that has nothing to do withthe nip in the air.
I must lookskeptical because his shoulders slump. “I really am sorry, Sylvie.I’ve recently gone through something that’s…well, not to put toofine a point on it, it’s left me with a major hate-on forChristmas.”
I can’t control mysurprised reaction, and he laughs softly at my wide eyes. He has anice laugh—deep and rumbly. I shove the thought aside.
“Anyway, this is the absolutelastassignment I would have chosenfor myself, but I didn’t have much choice,” he says. “It’s not fairto take my personal feelings out on this place, though. Or, moreimportantly, onyou. Can we start over?”
I’venever been one to hold grudges and I’m not about to start now witha stranger. Especially one who’s clearly hurting over something.“Well…itwouldbe arelief not to have to report to Santa and make sure you’re on thenaughty list.”
One side of hismouth curves in a way that makes me think he wouldn’t mind being onthe naughty list. Something I haven’t felt in far toolong—attraction? Curiosity? A hint of lust?—flutters in my chestand then lower.
Hemotions for me to start walking again and falls into step besideme. “You missed an opportunity for a name pun there,” he says,nudging me lightly with his shoulder. “Being on the naughty listwould mean gettingcoalin my stocking.”
I let out a groan,followed by a laugh. A quick look at him shows a crooked smile thatmakes that fluttery feeling in my chest kick up a notch. Wecontinue at our slow pace, pausing occasionally so Cole can askquestions and snap more pictures.
“So…Silver Bells the Elf,” he says. “Do all the elves aroundhere get Christmas-themed names?”
“Theycan choose one if they want to, and a lot of them do. My last nameis Bell and my dad has always called me Silver Bell, so it seemedlike a good fit. Meredith encouraged me to play it up for visitorswith the strands of silver bells and the bells on myshoes.”
There’s no wayhe’s missed my jingling shoes since they don’t exactly allow forstealth, but he pauses and looks down at them. I do a little danceon the spot to set them off. A few nearby people stop, clapping andlaughing at my impromptu performance, which reminds me I’mconstantly being watched. When I spot the smile creeping ontoCole’s face, I play it up, channeling my inner RiverDancer.
Much to mydelight, Cole lets out a full-body laugh. It transforms his entireface, softening the hard set of his mouth and making his eyesshine. He takes a couple of pictures, then steps back to snap a fewmore that include the small crowd that’s stopped to watch. I finishwith a twirl and a flourish of jazz hands, followed by a bow as theassembled crowd applauds.
Several peoplesurge forward, asking for selfies. I shoot an apologetic look atCole over their heads. He’s still smiling as he steps back to theedge of the crowd and calls, “Do your elf thing. I’llwait.”
It’s at least tenminutes before the last person moves on. I caught glimpses of Colethrough the crowd a few times and saw him keeping himself occupiedby taking pictures and typing on his phone. I figured he wasgetting a head start on his piece, and found myself wishing I couldpeek over his shoulder again to see what he was writing.
“Is italways like this?” Cole asks as I rejoin him.
“Prettymuch, yeah. You definitely have to be a people person in a job likethis. It can be overwhelming and exhausting at times, but seeingall the smiles and knowing this place makes people happy is worthit.”
He bobs his headthoughtfully, adding one final note to his phone before slipping itinto his pocket. “How would you feel about reversing our plans? Hotchocolate now, nutcrackers after?”
I agree, gratefulfor an excuse to get off my feet for a few minutes. I direct us tothe café, where we get a small table for two and order hotchocolate and a plate of shortbread cookies to share. Cole snaps afew shots of the elaborately-decorated café, then our steaming cupsand the plate of cookies.
I wait until he’sfinished and has settled back in his chair before speaking again.“Can I ask why you only use your phone for pictures instead of aproper camera?”
“Thewomen who ownThe Buzzwant it that way,” he says. “They became famous using onlytheir phones for all their social media posts, so they want alltheir freelancers doing the same. They say it makes the pieces moreaccessible to the general public, and since most smartphones haveamazing cameras these days anyway…” He shrugs one shoulder, tappinghis phone where it sits on the table. It’s several models newerthan my own and likely has all the bells and whistles. “I missusing my professional camera, but sometimes it’s nice being able tojust whip out my phone and not have to carry a bunch of equipmentaround.”
From there, wekeep the conversation light, mostly sticking to assignments Colehas had lately, and bits and pieces of life in our respectivecities. Now that Cole’s not so closed off and frowny, I find myselfeven more attracted to him. He’s articulate and funny, with a drysense of humor, and when I speak, I feel like he’s reallylistening. I’d like to ask him more personal questions, but itdoesn’t seem right since we’re strangers who will never see eachother again.
After taking thelast sip of my hot chocolate, I catch Cole staring at me. His headis tilted slightly to the side, and there’s a curiosity and warmthin his eyes that makes heat spread through my body. He blinks andgives his head a little shake, averting his eyes with a ruefulsmile. I expect him to say something, but he simply pops the lastbite of his cookie into his mouth.
“Youwere right,” he says as we step back into the chilly afternoon afew minutes later. He follows me as I turn to the right, fallinginto step beside me once more. “That was the best hot chocolateI’ve ever tasted. The cookies were delicious too.”
“Goodenough to make it into your piece about the Village?” Iask.
“Definitely.” He stops in his tracks, his eyes going wide.“Wow.”
I don’t need tofollow his gaze to know he’s spotted the Nutcracker Emporium upahead. The store is truly an incredible sight; it looks like agiant gingerbread house, with elaborate six-foot-tall nutcrackersstanding sentinel every few feet along the exterior. The frontwindow displays a variety of nutcrackers in every size, and beyondthat you can see people moving around inside.
I study Cole’sface, trying to gauge his expression. His ‘wow’ from before wastinged with something akin to horror, but I’m relieved to seegenuine awe wash over his features now.
“Thisplace is…I mean…I’ve never…”
“Iknow,” I say. “I wasn’t kidding when I said people have come fromall over the world to see it.”
“It’sspectacular,” he says. “My niece would flip her lid over thisplace.”
