Page 10 of The Naughty List Agreement

Crossing through to the back room of Frosty Jack’s to a portal, Nick tried not to let his irritation with Cora cloud his judgment. He was tempted to point the handle toward Pete’s realm, the Thornreach. A few minutes in the dark forest realm of twisted roots, iron chains, and crimson embers would tame her haughtiness with fear, but that kind of punishment was Pete’s style, not Nick’s. Cora probably needed a reckoning with what lay ahead of her, but Nick had to try for redemption.

He’d underestimated how aggravating dealing with her was. His frustration from his failed dates colored his attitude toward her, and that wasn’t her fault.

“What an odd room,” she said. “I expected wall-to-wall casks for the taps and crates of stock.” She was observant. Probably one reason for her success with Winter Wonderland.

“That’s all stored in the basement.” She tipped her head to the side as she listened, making her hair swing around her neck. He admired how it swished and fell, kissing her skin on its way past. She made him feel as if he was the entire focus of her attention.

“This is a private entrance for Jack’s friends,” he said, not wanting to reveal that it was a portal to all the realms in the Yearweave. He should pick up the pace before someone like Krampus arrived and spoiled everything. He led her through the portal to his realm.

Delicate flakes of snow fell from the clear, cold night sky and landed gently on trees that glowed with stored Lumen. Cora shivered.

“I should have put on my coat.”

He projected a wave of warmth toward her and self-consciously brushed his hands up and down her sweater-covered arms to disguise its source. She stopped shivering. Her cheeks flushed, her brown eyes wide as she gazed at him in wonder. There was a sweetness to her he’d never noticed before, but there was another undercurrent as well.

Hunger.

Or was that coming from him?

“This way. My helpers have been hard at work and we have a fully working model house.”

As they stepped into the workshop, she went right over to the workbench where he’d left the model of the house. Nick connected his phone to the house and, as Cora approached it, he hit a button to turn on the lights.

Putting her hand on her hip, she canted her head to the side. “Does it do anything else?”

It was going to take more than lights to impress Cora. “What would you like it to do?”

“Something more than just light up.”

“What does your house look like?” he asked her.

“It’s a simple A-frame house made of white and brown river stone with steps leading up to the front door. There’s a window on either side of the door and a pitched roof.”

With a few flicks of his fingers he adjusted the specs to her description, changing the outside of the house to match.

“What about this?” he asked.

She gasped, reaching toward the house.

“Wow, Nick! I love it. This is amazing,” she said. “What do you call this house?”

“Custom Home,” he said.

“That’s lame.”

Nick tempered his annoyance. “Why does it need a fancy name?”

“What about … WonderHaus? It sounds magical. It’s the kind of name that opens up possibilities.”

Cora vibrated with energy. Waves of light were radiating off her as magic was pumped into the room. Nick felt laughter bubble up inside him in response, a rising tide of energy and inspiration to match her enthusiasm for what he and his team had created.

It was the first time that he truly believed she could be redeemed.

Cora surveyed his space. It was cozy and snug, organized but not obsessively so, clean but not clinical. Obviously he wouldn’t be mass-producing the product in here. There was a long workbench along the far wall and a leather apron draped over a stool near it.

The bench was lined with figurines. She picked up a pine marten that seemed as if it had been startled and frozen in place. The workmanship was exquisite. The animal was so lifelike she expected it to feel soft and furry in her hands.

Next was a woman. Wearing a long skirt and vest, her hair thick as it flowed around her shoulders. The expression on her face was wistful longing.