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They made their way toward the vendor cart where the smell of hot cider cut through the chill. Brandon bought two cups and handed one to Desiree. She cradled it, steam fogging the air. Her cheeks were pink, from excitement as well as the weather. She watched the families, the laughter, the way the town seemed to hang on a single, shared heartbeat.
Brandon nudged her with an elbow. “You all right?”
She smiled into her cup, looking up at him sideways. “I’m not used to this much…positive attention.”
“You’ll have to get used to it if you plan to hang around here,” he cautioned.
They watched as the mayor finished his speech, and the first notes of “Jingle Bells” started up from the bandstand. Couples moved to the gazebo to dance, kids threw snowballs, and the old men lined up at the cider cart to talk politics and cattle prices.
Brandon looked at Desiree, saw her eyes tracking the lights, the laughter, the way the world didn’t feel quite as heavy as it had a week ago.
When the crowd thinned a little, he steered her to the edge of the park, where a second, smaller gazebo stood sentry over the circle. The snow had gathered along its roof, soft and clean, and the fairy lights strung from the posts gave the wood a gentle glow.
They stepped inside. For a moment, it was just the two of them, the rest of the world muffled by distance and fresh snow.
Brandon leaned against the rail, turned his cup in his hands. “You know, I’ve been thinking about the department.”
Desiree raised an eyebrow. “It’s Christmas, Brandon. You’re not allowed to talk about work until at least New Year’s.”
He grinned. “It’s not work. It’s…future planning. I was thinking, the town could do a lot more with community outreach, maybe even start building out a real investigations unit. There’s enough work to justify it. But only if I can find the right person to run it.”
She looked at him, wary, but amused. “Are you offering me a job, Chief Holloway?”
He turned to face her, dead serious but with a spark at the edge of his eyes. “I talked to the county. There’s a way to formalize it, if you’re interested. It would be a contract position, based out of Sweet Bloom, but you’d have free rein to do things your way.”
She was quiet, the snow filtering down behind her, the world holding its breath.
“What do you say?” He asked, voice lower, more private. “You want to stay?”
Desiree considered, weighing the words, the offer, maybe even the town itself. She met his gaze, her eyes steady and clear. “Are you asking me to stay just for the job?”
He shook his head, a slow smile breaking loose. “I’m asking you to stay for me. For us. But I won’t hold it against you if you want to pretend it’s just for work.”
A beat of silence. The wind gusted and spun a handful of snow through the open air.
She stepped closer, scuffing her boots on the planks. “Then I guess I’m staying. Someone’s got to keep you out of trouble.”
He set his cup down, put both hands on the sides of her jaw, and kissed her. It wasn’t rushed, or awkward, or anything like the first time. It was exactly right—slow, certain, and warm enough to melt the cold air between them.
Somewhere in the crowd, a whoop went up. Brandon laughed against her mouth, pulled back just enough to see her lips twitch into a smile. He pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, “I love you, Desiree.”
She kissed him again, hands knotted in his coat. “I love you, too.”
They stood there, the noise of the town swirling around them, the lights on the gazebo bleeding into the snow, and for the first time in forever, the world felt just right like it had when he was a kid.
Back at the center of the circle, the band launched into another Christmas carol. The town kept celebrating. Brandon and Desiree watched from their small, perfect vantage, the whole town spinning around them.
He leaned in again and pressed another kiss on her lips as the snow fell around them. Silently, thanking God that Desiree was his to kiss for the rest of his life.
