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I moved close so that her back was pressed to my front and whispered in her ear, “You can’t forget the lights.”
Her head turned slightly so that our mouths were a hairsbreadth away. “That’s the best part.”
I kissed her slow and sweet, aware that anyone could walk by at any second.
She slowly turned in my arms, curling hers around my neck. With her breasts pressed against my chest, I wanted nothing more than to take her somewhere quiet, where no one could bother us. But we had a long drive home yet.
When laughter filtered down the path toward us, we broke apart, lacing our hands together.
This wasn’t our first time or even our first relationship, but it felt new. I had a feeling I’d never get enough of spending time together, stealing kisses, and pulling her close.
We passed a family with three small kids. They were skipping ahead while their parents followed at a slower pace.
“Is there something to see this way?” the dad asked me.
“There are lights on the lake.”
“Look at this,” one of the boys called over his shoulder to his parents.
“Thanks,” the dad said, and we continued our walk.
As we neared the clearing, there was a crowd of people heading toward the main house. We followed them inside, slowly walking through the displays and reading the plaques that described life here.
“It would have been amazing to live here.”
“We should see if they have a coffee-table book. That way you can read through the history of this place,” I said to her. I wanted her to see the gift shop, to get a feel of the kinds of wares they sold here. It was a year-round business, with spring and summer flowers, then the holiday light display. It was the perfect place for Holly to consign her work.
But it wouldn’t be easy to get in. It was one of those situations where it helped to know someone. In this case, Holly had Marley working every angle she could think of. I knew it would happen; it would just be a matter of time.
“Let’s go see it.” We walked past the musical fountains, pausing to catch the end of the show, which was the same as the one we’d seen when we’d entered the park.
I loved seeing the smile on Holly’s face and her excitement when she took a picture of something that might inspire her artwork.
She saw herself as someone who made ornaments, but she was so much more than that. I was beyond pleased that Marley had convinced her to paint the inn because I suspected that’s where her true talent lay.
Inside the building, we followed the crowds of people to the large, open gift shop. There were ornaments and decorated trees, books, and even a whole section of plants and poinsettias. Holly lifted a small pink poinsettia. “Can we get one?”
“We can get whatever you want.”
“Let’s see if we can find a book on the gardens. I’d love to have it to remember this place by.”
I wondered if we’d have a collection of coffee-table books showcasing every place we visited. As artists, this kind of adventure was vital to spark our imagination and creativity. But I also enjoyed the day.
We perused the books until we found one that had beautiful pictures and a description of the history. I carried it while she proceeded to examine each ornament one by one. I could tell she was calculating how it was made and if she could do something similar, yet different.
There were several bird ornaments but nothing that was glass. If Holly could figure it out, her creation would be unique. As long as no one else had the idea first.
All the bird ornaments were a solid material, painted red, yellow, black, or a combination of all three.
“I can see my ornaments on this tree. The extras here in the baskets.” Holly’s gaze was focused on the tree as she spoke.
“If you can see it, then it must come true.”
Holly looked at me and smiled. “I hope so.”
“It’s a proven fact.” I placed an arm around her shoulder and guided her to the line. It took us several minutes to navigate it and then pay for our finds. In the end, we got the book, a poinsettia, and an ornament of the conservatory to commemorate our visit.
“Can we return in the spring? I want to see the gardens in bloom.”
