“Mhmm.” She inhales long and slow. “I may not love winter, but I love how it smells. Of course, I won’t be appreciating the fresh, crisp air when I’m shoveling my car out at three in the morning.”
“Yeah, that’s gotta be a shitty way to start your day.”
“It’s not a big deal. A small price to pay for the beauty we have all around us.”
“That’s true. I can’t imagine living anywhere else. We have the best of everything—all four seasons, beaches, and mountains nearby. What more can we ask for?”
“A mild winter?” She laughs.
“That goes without saying.”
As we reach the end of the trail, we come to an archway wrapped in garland and colored lights. Across the top is a sign that reads: Stop Here & Share A Mistletoe Moment.
She looks up. “Oh, come on.”
I follow her gaze to the large sprig of mistletoe, tied with a red ribbon and hanging just overhead. My heart thuds as the distance between us turns electric.
She glances at me, a spark of mischief in her eyes, but there’s also something more lingering underneath. “So… what’s it going to be this time? Nose? Elbow?”
I step closer. “I don’t think I’ve got it in me to be funny right now.”
That catches her off guard. She stills, eyes searching mine.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time, Ginger.”
Her breath hitches. Just barely, but I hear it. I feel it. And then I kiss her.
Not the quick, teasing kind. Not a forehead kiss or a joke. Her lips are soft and warm and steady beneath mine. I pour all the emotion and every unsaid thing into this kiss. This moment has been building for years.
Her gloved hand finds my chest, fingers curling around my jacket like she needs something to hold on to. When she leans into me, it feels undeniable, like it was always supposed to be this way.
When we finally part, she pulls her scarf up a little higher, like she’s trying to hide her smile. But there’s no shielding her flushed cheeks and wide eyes.
“Well,” she says breathlessly. “That was worth the wait.”
I rest my forehead against hers, smiling. “Yeah. It really was.”
CHAPTER 13
GINGER
Istill feel his lips on mine as we walk toward the barn. With the cold nipping at my face, the memory lingers, warming me from the inside out. Cider and winter are now my favorite tastes.
My gaze slides to him, and my stomach somersaults. He doesn’t seem flustered, but when he glances at me, there’s a warmth in his eyes that both thrills and terrifies me.
Inside the barn, strings of golden lights and greenery hang from rafters, and people mill about with cups of cocoa, checking out all the items available for purchase. We find the checkout counter near the back, where a woman with red cheeks and a Santa hat rings us up.
“Is this your first Frostbloom tree?” she asks, smiling.
I nod. “Yes, but it won’t be the last.”
She hands me a small tag with our number, and promises the tree will be delivered to Jordan’s truck in a few minutes. I tuck the paper inside my pocket. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Enjoy your holiday season.” She gives us a final smile as we turn away.
“Do you want to look around?” Jordan asks.
Before I can answer, my attention is snagged by the largest tree I’ve ever seen indoors. “Oh, wow,” I whisper as I walk overto take a closer look. It’s so tall, the branches nearly brush the barn’s rafters, and every inch glows with soft white light. But it’s not covered in ornaments or tinsel. Instead, hundreds—no, make that thousands of small wooden discs hang from its branches.
