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Tommy turned away from the tree at the same time Grace did, making him think neither of them wanted this moment to linger. They walked on, and thankfully, their conversation started to flow easily again.
"Got any wild holiday traditions?" Tommy asked after telling her some of the long-held ones that this town was famous for.
Grace laughed. "Oh, you know, the usual. Finding the most festive spot in whichever country I'm in. Christmas in Paris, New Year's in Sydney. That sort of thing."
Tommy raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "That sounds incredible. But, no family traditions or anything like that?"
She shrugged, her gaze momentarily drifting to a snowflake decoration hanging from a nearby lamppost. "Not really. My family... we were never big on traditions. Guess that's why I keep moving, looking for something new."
He sensed a hint of something unspoken in her words, a depth she wasn't ready to dive into.
"Sounds lonely," he ventured, watching her closely.
"Not at all," she countered quickly, her smile returning. "It's freeing, you know? No expectations, no disappointments. Just the world and me. Anyway, enough about Snow Hill. I’ll learn more while I’m exploring. Tell me about more ofyourtraditions."
Tommy nodded, though a part of him felt a pang of sadness at her abrupt transition away from herself and back to him. "Uh, well, we always have this big Christmas Eve dinner with seafood—it’s an Italian thing. Everyone's there, the whole extended family."
"That sounds nice," Grace said, her voice soft, almost dreamy. “I’m spending Christmas in Canada, so I’ll have to see if they have any traditional dinners on Christmas Eve like the Italians do.”
“What’s in Canada?”
“Snow. Moose. Mooses?” she asked with a laugh. “Meese?”
Tommy chuckled, but he had a feeling she knew that wasn’t what he’d meant. “Beats me. I’m a former soldier turned cop. You’re the writer.”
“Yeah, but I have spellcheck.”
He wanted to ask more, to delve into the mysteries of Grace's life, but he held back, respecting the boundaries she so clearly set. It filled him with both admirationandfrustration. She was a free spirit who captivated him… yet she kept him at arm's length.
By the time they arrived back at the inn, the night had grown colder, and their breaths came out in puffs of white vapor. Grace wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill as they stood on the porch, and Tommy tucked his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels.
"So, this is it, huh?" Grace asked, her tone light but with an undercurrent of something Tommy couldn't quite place.
"I had a great time tonight."
"Me too. Thank you again for dinner.”
“Of course. Thanks for not making fun of me when I tripped over that crack in the sidewalk.”
Grace’s head fell back as she laughed. “Hey, there’s still time. Next time I see you out in town, I might warn you to watch where you’re walking.”
“If you’re around, I might need the reminder,” he replied, the flirty retort coming naturally to him, but he instantly worried it wasn’t welcome.
And then, as if in answer, Grace’s cheeks flushed as she beamed up at him, and a charged silence slid between them.
Perhaps itwaswelcome, then.
Tommy glanced at her lips, the thought of kissing her flashing through his mind. He took a step toward her, but before he could so much as lift a hand to cup her cheek—
"So, I guess I'll see you around?" Grace asked, stopping him in his tracks.
"Yeah, definitely," Tommy replied, a little too eagerly. "Maybe we can grab coffee?"
"I'd like that."
"Great." Tommy grinned, his heart lighter despite the unresolved tension between them.
They stood there for a moment longer, neither making a move to leave. Finally, Grace stepped back. "Well, goodnight, Tommy."
