1
BRIELLE
It was almost impossible to focus with a blue-eyed Greek god staring me down.
He wasn’t just good-looking. He was the kind of man you saw once in a lifetime and remembered forever. Tall and broad-shouldered, with arms crossed over his chest like he owned the place. That denim jacket clung to him in ways that should be illegal, seams straining over biceps so massive, I half expected them to split open right there in front of me. His jaw was strong and shadowed with stubble, his dark blond hair falling across his forehead like it had been perfectly tousled by the mountain wind.
And those eyes. Lord help me, those eyes.
Meanwhile, I was just trying to keep my hands from shaking while demonstrating the laser-cut nativity scene in my signature lantern.
“I think I’ll pass,” the customer said, her voice apologetic but firm.
She ushered her twin daughters away, the girls already tugging her toward the booth selling peppermint fudge. I plastered on a smile until they were gone.
“Merry Christmas,” I called after them, though the words fell flat.
Great. Another lost sale. My carefully rehearsed pitch had flopped again, and I needed this one—bad. My savings account was dwindling faster than snow melting in a December thaw, and if I couldn’t even sell these lanterns at festivals, what hope did I have of building an online shop?
But all of that faded the instant I realized Mr. Blue-Eyed Greek God was still standing there.
Facing me. Staring at me.
There was nothing between us but a display of metallic lanterns painted in reds, greens, silvers, and golds, each with Christmas-themed cutouts. And the longer he stared, the harder it was to breathe.
“May I help you?” I asked, my voice higher-pitched than I intended. He wasn’t saying a word—just looking at me like I’d dropped down from the North Pole wrapped in ribbon.
“I need lanterns,” he said finally.
Three words, spoken in a voice that was low and rough, like gravel poured over velvet. My stomach flipped, betraying me.
“Okay,” I managed, my mind scrambling for footing.
I launched into my sales pitch as though it were my only lifeline. My signature lanterns changed colors when held to the light, subtle blues shifting to warm golds. Others had a glittering finish that caught the glow of fairy lights strung across the festival square. I pointed out the cutouts—trees, stars, presents, snowflakes—and the more complicated nativity scenes that had taken me hours with a laser cutter and even longer sanding and polishing by hand.
By the time I gestured toward the backdrop that showed off how, when lit, the lanterns cast intricate spinning designs across nearby walls, my pulse was pounding in my ears. I prayed he couldn’t see my trembling fingers.
Because this man made me nervous. Not just a little flustered, but nervous in a way I’d never been in my life.
I didn’t have much experience with men. Scratch that—I had basically none. And yet here I was, standing in front of a man who looked like every fantasy rolled into one. He was rugged. Gorgeous. Dangerous in that way where you knew if you got too close, you’d never recover.
When I finally dared to look up at him, expecting the same “Thanks, but no thanks” I’d gotten all day, he said something that made me forget how to breathe.
“I’ll take them all. Temporarily, anyway.”
My jaw dropped.
All of them? The dollar signs practically danced in front of my eyes. With one order, I could not only cover my booth fees and travel expenses, but also chip away at the mountain of student loans hanging over me like a storm cloud. For once, something might actually go my way.
But then his last sentence registered.
“Temporarily?” I echoed.
He nodded, his gaze steady, his mouth set in a line that was just a little too stern, a little too irresistible. “We need to borrow them. The pathway lights for the kids’ Christmas pageant went out. The kids are supposed to walk from the back of the festival grounds to the stage while singing carols. It’s tradition. But the electrical system failed this afternoon. No time to fix it. Your lanterns can light up the pathway.”
My heart sank so fast, it hurt. “Oh. So you don’t want to buy them. You want to borrow them.”
“That’s right.”
