"It's… something," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
I looked up at him then and couldn't help but stare. His rugged face was partially obscured by his hair and scruff, but I could see the faint outline of his jawline. His eyes, a piercing blue like winter ice, softened just a fraction as they reflected the twinkling lights from the tree. He looked so much like some rugged mountain man—tough and weathered but with an undeniable gentleness hidden beneath layers of hardship.
My heart skipped a beat at the sight, and I quickly looked away, unsure of what was happening inside me. This broody mechanic had been nothing but cold since our first encounter, yet here he was, standing close enough for me to feel his breath against my skin. The hug had felt more intimate than it should have, and now my emotions were in turmoil.
Why did I care so much about what he thought? Why did his approval suddenly matter?
“Want to grab a hot chocolate?” Ellie asked, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Lucy’s selling them.”
“Oh, yes! I love her hot chocolate!” I exclaimed, my enthusiasm bubbling over. I turned to Daryl, who stood quietly beside me, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “I’m buying, okay? And then I promise, I can drop you off wherever you need to go.”
Daryl shrugged, a small gesture that felt like a victory. His acquiescence, however reluctant, was enough for now.
We made our way down the block to Lucy’s hot chocolate stand. The scent of cocoa and cinnamon filled the air, mingling with the crisp scent of pine from the nearby trees. The stand itself was a charming wooden structure adorned with twinkling fairy lights and a hand-painted sign that readLucy’s Famous Hot Chocolate.A line had already formed, townsfolk eagerly waiting for their steaming cups of holiday cheer.
As we joined the line, live music began to play from a nearby gazebo. A local band strummed guitars and sang carols, their voices blending harmoniously with the festive atmosphere. The melodies wove through the cold air like a warm embrace, wrapping everyone in a blanket of holiday spirit.
I glanced at Daryl as we waited. He seemed more at ease here, the hard lines of his face softening under the glow of string lights. His gaze occasionally flicked to me, and each time our eyes met, he quickly looked away.
“Daryl,” I started gently, hoping to draw him out of his shell even just a bit more. “Do you come to these events often?”
He shook his head. “Not really my thing.”
“Well,” I said with a smile, “I’m glad you’re here tonight.”
He didn’t respond immediately but eventually murmured something that might have been an acknowledgment. Progress.
When we finally reached the front of the line, Lucy greeted us with her usual warmth. “Beth! Ellie! And who’s this?”
“This is Daryl,” I introduced him. “Daryl, this is Lucy. She makes the best hot chocolate in town. And he's amazing at fixing up cars."
Lucy beamed at him before turning back to her pots of simmering cocoa. She ladled out three generous servings into festive cups adorned with snowflakes and handed them over.
I took a sip of mine and sighed contentedly as the rich chocolatey goodness warmed me from the inside out. Ellie chatted animatedly with Lucy about some new holiday cookie recipe she had burned while Daryl quietly observed everything around him.
“Here,” I said, handing him one of the cups. “You’ll love it.”
He accepted it without a word but took a tentative sip soon after. His expression didn’t change much—stoic as ever—but he didn’t seem displeased either.
We found an empty bench nearby and settled down with our drinks. The music continued to play softly in the background as people milled about, their laughter and chatter adding layers to the festive soundscape.
For once, there was no rush or urgency—just a peaceful moment shared over hot chocolate in the heart of Evergreen Hollow’s holiday magic.
A familiar melody drifted through the crisp night air, and I straightened up. "Oh my gosh," I said, the realization dawning on me. "My mother would play this on repeat every time. It sounds like…"
"It is," Ellie confirmed, a knowing smile spreading across her face. "That's Julian Everett."
"The eighties singer?" I asked, incredulous. "No way."
Sure enough, as we turned our gaze towards the stage near the tree, there he was. Julian Everett, in all his glory, singing his heart out to a crowd of eager listeners. He had that typical charm about him—slightly tousled hair that framed his boyish yet distinguished features, an easy smile that lit up his face, and an effortless charisma that drew people in.
"I can't believe he's here," I whispered, still in shock.
"Hey, everyone has to get paid," Ellie replied with a playful shrug.
As the song continued, people began to dance around us. The energy was infectious; couples twirled together, children skipped in circles, and friends swayed to the rhythm of the music. It felt like stepping into a scene from a classic Christmas movie—pure magic.
Daryl remained seated beside me, his expression unreadable as he watched the festivities unfold. I took another sip of my hot chocolate, letting the warmth spread through me while my heart swelled with nostalgia.
