Jingle Wars

by R. Holmes

  “Careful,” I murmur. “You’ll catch a cold for sure if you fall in the pond.”

  He blinks as he adjusts his footing and together we help push. He’s probably doing more of the work, but I feel good standing beside him with my palms pressed to the cold metal as it inches up the incline while Jared drives and Lyle pulls with the truck. Together we get it away from the pond and back up the small hill.

  “Thanks, Finn,” Lyle says after we’ve finished. “Appreciate it. Tell Grams we said hello.”

  “No problem. You can call me whenever.”

  On our way back to the truck, I give his arm a playful tap. “That was some impressive brawn and problem solving.”

  He chuckles, the deep sound igniting a happy glow inside me. “That was nothing. You should’ve seen last year when I had to help deliver lambs at three in the morning.”

  My mouth pops open and I clutch his sleeve. “Really?”

  Another laugh puffs out of him. He shakes his head, giving me a smile. A real smile, one that makes my heart stop and float off into la la land. Big freaking oof.

  “You’re so gullible sometimes. Bet you’d believe any good deed I told you about.”

  “Of course I would.” I wait as he opens the passenger door for me. “That seems to be the type of person you are. Hardworking, helpful, and honest.”

  I don’t know how I ever could’ve thought otherwise. He offers his hand to help me into the cab with a pleased look on his face.

  Once we’re back in the truck, I angle on the seat to face him with a grin. “Where to next?”

  The corner of Finn’s mouth lifts. “Other side of town. Grady Deerborne needs some extra hands to help with getting his furnace heating again.”

  He puts the truck in gear and we continue making stops, spending the day lending a helping hand and giving back to the residents of Hollyridge.

  Working alongside him fills me with a sense of rightness.

  My heartstrings tug insistently. This thing I feel for Finn is more than physical attraction. I keep getting flashes of future possibilities each time he smiles at me or puts his hand at the small of my back.

  It’s a future where I have everything I’ve wished for—a life to share with someone, a family, a home. One that isn’t simply a place to hang my coat, but somewhere filled with love and memories I’ve made with the people closest to my heart.

  My breath catches more than once at the force of longing for these glimpses. They’re the things I stopped hoping for a long time ago, when I was alone every holiday.

  It’s not until we’re pulling back into the Alpine’s entrance after dark several hours later that I realize I never fully explained my cosponsored potluck idea to Finn. He glances at me as the truck comes to a stop in front of the lobby entrance.

  “Thanks for dropping me off so I didn’t have to walk back.”

  “Sure,” he murmurs.

  With a soft reluctant groan, I pull the blanket off my lap. Finn watches me closely, an intensity burning in his warm whiskey-colored eyes. He reaches across the bench seat and brushes his fingers with mine as I fold the blanket. We sit in the stillness for a second.

  Part of me wants to ask if he’ll come inside, to my Scandinavian Winter room. Another part wishes he’ll ask me to come with him back to his place.

  I peek through my lashes and trace my thumb along his knuckles. My breathing syncs with the steady beat of my heart when he captures my fingers in his.

  More than a kiss, I want to stay like this. In this moment, in his truck that smells like him, holding hands.

  “Thanks for letting me tag along today.” My quiet murmur breaks the spell keeping us captive. “I really like the people here.” I release his hand and run my nail along the seams of the bench seat. “They make me feel like…”

  “Like what?” Finn asks when I don’t finish my sentence.

  I blow out a breath and lick my lips. “Everyone here makes me feel like I have a place. Somewhere I should be. I’ve, um. Never had that.” I rub at my nose, unable to remain still in my self-consciousness. “It’s nice.”

  A worried crease forms between his brows as he stares at me. I offer him a smile and get out of the truck.

  “Freya,” he says, stopping me. I turn around, hand on the door. He offers a crooked smile that has my stomach fluttering. “There’s a town event coming up in a few days, the annual tree lighting. We always go, Grams and Gramps and me. Would you like to come with us?”

  The bright, elated smile I give him almost hurts my cheeks. I lean back in the truck. “Really? That sounds amazing. This town is perfect,” I gush. “These non-stop Christmas festivities are getting me so hyped.” I pause for a second, touched that Finn would invite me along with his family to join in the fun. “Yes, I’d love to come!”

  A chuckle rolls out of him at my enthusiasm for all things festive. “Well, alright then. Pick you up out front?”

  “Sounds great.”

  He waits until I’m by the door, looking over my shoulder. Our gazes lock, making the world disappear for several seconds.

  Then he drives off into the night. I head inside and move through the lobby of the Alpine, greeting guests and waving to my staff.

  I meant what I told him. Hollyridge isn’t simply a town on the map to me.

  It’s starting to feel like my home. The place I belong, where I’ve found somewhere to fit in and have the surrogate family I’ve never had with my own.

  I wasn’t supposed to stay here forever. The plan was to show Dad how capable I was so he’d start trusting my input for other properties we own.

  But now? I’m not so sure I ever want to leave. I’m not sure I ever could leave.

  This town has this way of charming visitors to stay, like as soon as you’ve stepped foot in it a piece of your heart feels like it belongs here—always has, always will. I’ve heard of people who travel feeling this way about different destinations they go, but this is the first time I’m experiencing that magic for myself.

  “Finn, make sure you grab the thermos please,” Grams instructs as she buttons Gramps’ coat for him.

  “Got it, Grams.”

  I’m packing the last few things into the truck before we head into town for Hollyridge’s Annual Tree Lighting. It’s the same night every year. A huge deal. Grams makes sure of it. She’s on the festive committee in town, which she supplies most of the treats for, but she and the committee work tirelessly to make sure everything in town is as over the top decorated and “festive” as possible. Christmas threw up everywhere equals tourists which equals money for the town. Small-town charm sells, and Hollyridge is the coziest town this side of the mountains.

  “Let’s go, let’s go… We're going to be late! Wait! Finn, can you grab the marshmallows from the pantry?” she asks over her shoulder as she shoos Gramps outside.

  I sigh heavily. This woman.

  Walking over to the pantry I open the door and search through more baking supplies than a damn bakery, searching for the marshmallows. Ah! Finally. They’re nestled in the back behind a shit ton of sugar.

  Wait. Didn’t Grams send me and Freya for sugar the other day? She said she was out.

  It dawns on me that my meddling Grams had sugar all along. She wanted to send me alone with Freya and she used sugar as the ruse. Sneaky, sneaky woman.

  Grinning, I shut the pantry and walk outside joining my grandparents. I give her the bag of marshmallows.

  “Grams, hold on, I have to run over and get Freya. Didn’t want her to be home alone tonight,” I say.

  She gives me a look like hm, I bet that’s exactly why you’re going to get her Finn Mayberry, followed by a cheeky grin.

  These women; gonna drive me crazy one of these days.

  I trek through the thick snow across the resort’s lawn to get Freya. She’s waiting outside under the awning. Dressed in tight leather leggings and a red coat, she looks like any man’s dream. For fucking sure like mine.

  It’s only been a few
days since I saw her and God, she gets sexier every damn time I see her. In another over the top, non winter appropriate outfit she steals my breath.

  Finn, get your shit under control. She’s still the enemy.

  “Hi Finn.” She smiles.

  Her dark curls frame her face, and I want to take her into my arms and kiss her until she’s breathless. I can’t help but be enamored by her. Her cheeks, red and flushed from the cold, match the red lipstick she’s painted on her lush lips. The crimson color makes her eyes shine brighter. Tonight she’s wearing makeup and even though I prefer her face bare, she looks breathtaking. Dark, thick lashes frame her eyes. Everything about this girl is perfection. But I’m beginning to see that Freya’s beauty isn’t just skin deep. She’s beautiful inside and out.

  “Hi. Ready?” I ask.

  She nods, and we walk together back towards the inn. Her shoulder brushes against my arm as we walk back together and she shoots me a playful grin.

  “So, I gather tonight is an important night for Hollyridge? The resort is buzzing with excitement.”

  “Yeah, it’s a pretty big deal around here. Locals look forward to it every year. They bring their families, shop some of the booths, and get their spot for the lighting. There’s ice skating, snowball fights, hot chocolate stations. It’s fun.”

  When we arrive at the truck, Grams and Gramps both spend a few minutes fussing over Freya. Grams makes sure to comment on how beautiful she looks tonight then shoots me a look that's full of meddling.

  “Let’s go before we’re late.” I open the door for Freya and wait until she’s inside before I close it shut behind her, then open my door and slide in behind the wheel.

  The drive to town is short with Grams and Gramps pointing out locations to Freya and telling her some of the town's history. I’m engrossed in the stories because even after growing up here, I’m hearing some of these things for the first time.

  “Oh, Freya, look! That’s where Finn broke his arm when he was seven. That darn boy. He was daring and fearless. Still is to this day, isn’t that right Finn?” Grams takes my hands in hers and I feel the strings in my heart tug.

  If you only knew the things that truly scared me Grams. Losing the inn, disappointing you and Gramps.

  “I wouldn’t say that Grams.” I laugh lightly, trying to keep the subject from going somewhere darker.

  “Oh, he didn’t cry a tear when they had to set it and put a cast on. His gramps bought him a BB gun after that and boy did the tears come then, because he couldn’t shoot it with the dang cast!” Grams and Gramps are both laughing now, and it’s infectious because Freya joins in, too.

  “I told him, Finn Michael, that gun will still be there when that cast comes off. He looked at me and said, ‘well Grams, it just ain’t no fair!’ I can still hear his little voice to this day.” Her blue eyes shine with unshed tears from her laughter, or maybe at the memories that still hurt when you think of them.

  Finally, the glow of downtown begins to peek through the thick of the trees and we’re near town.

  “Wow, everything is so beautiful. The lights, the trees, the snow,” Freya says in awe. I agree.

  “It really is.”

  Except I’m not looking at the scenery, I’m looking at her.

  Tonight it’s exceptionally hard to keep my eyes off of her, and harder not to take her into my arms and show her what I’ve been holding back for too fucking long.

  When we arrive at town square, I find a vacant parking spot and pull in, parking the truck backwards so we can pull the tailgate down. Thankfully, the snow has stopped for the evening, so we can enjoy tonight without being wet and cold. I hop out and open the door for Freya, then hold out my hand so she can step down.

  She eyes me warily, but still puts her hand in mine, and hops down from the truck. Her signature UGG boots cause her to slip slightly and fall right into my arms. I tighten my hold around her to prevent her from landing on the ice.

  “Thanks Finn.”

  “No problem.”

  The tightness of space between the truck and the vehicle parked next to us allows for very little space between her and I, and I feel her warm breath against my lips. My hands are on the door beside her, framing her in the spot.

  Neither of us say anything, but make no move to leave the confined space that has us pressed against one another. She looks up at me through dark lashes and I feel my resolve leaving by the second. I inch in closer, a mere centimeter from pressing my lips against hers and giving in to what we both so desperately want.

  A throat clearing pulls us from our lust-induced trance and we both whip our heads to look at our audience. Grams stands by the tailgate, clutching her heart, smirking at the two of us.

  I groan inwardly. Fuck.

  Pushing off from the truck, I walk past Grams and say, “Not a word Grams.”

  After Gramps and I set the tailgate up with a blanket, a few pillows and some spare blankets to keep everyone warm, I help Grams up on to the tailgate and give her the thermos of hot chocolate she had me pack at the inn.

  Let’s be real, Grams is a complete hot chocolate snob. She says that her palate is refined, but the truth is she can’t, no she won’t, drink anyone else's hot chocolate because it doesn’t come close to hers. Which is true. But, besides the point. If I’m going somewhere, I’ll just drink whatever is available, but not Grams. She’s got to pack her own.

  “Finn, why don’t you show Freya around some?”

  She looks over at Gramps, who shoots her a knowing smile.

  “Yeah, Finn, I’m sure Freya would love to see some of the booths and go ice skating?”

  “Oooh yes! Freya you have to go skating at the rink. Heck, if these hips would cooperate, I would be out there! It’s a lot of fun,” Grams chimes in.

  I look at Freya. With her eyes still heavily lidded with lust, she smiles up at me.

  “Sure, I’d like that. If you think you can keep up Finn,” she taunts.

  Is she really about to challenge me in ice skating? Doesn’t she realize she’s the tourist here?

  “Oh, is that so? You really wanna do this Princess?” I ask.

  Instead of answering she takes her lip between her teeth then grins cheekily.

  “Let’s go.”

  Lately, it seems like anytime Freya and I are alone, the air gets thicker and the tension takes ahold of us both, and I’m about two seconds from taking her behind the closest building and fucking her until she can’t walk. I pause a second to take a few deep breaths and try to calm the arousal that is lit like a fire inside me.

  When we get to the rink, the line wraps around the side. Damn, looks like we’re going to be waiting for a while. Freya’s eyes light up as she sees all of the kids skating around the rink, laughing and singing along to the obnoxiously loud Christmas music.

  “Is this your first time?” I ask.

  “Yeah. There isn’t snow in Malibu, unless it's the fake kind, and there's no way I was touching that. Plus, my dad was always too busy in the boardroom to take me anywhere that had snow. My nanny took me to do everything. I was honestly like ten before I realized that not everyone had nannies, that they weren't a part of everyone's family. Looking back now, I realize how fucked up that is."

  I'm surprised that my question got this type of response from her, completely raw and unforeseen. I was expecting something short and simple to answer, but instead she revealed a part of herself that I hadn't seen yet so far. The vulnerable, real part of Freya that admits to weakness. Everything between us has been competition and a steady stream of one ups, so seeing her in an unguarded way makes her more human.

  "We've all had fucked up shit in our childhood. Trust me, no family is perfect," I tell her quietly.

  "Except your family, Finn. Grams and Gramps are perfect." She smiles sadly.

  I'm beginning to realize that Freya's problems stem from her relationship with her father, and it makes me want to knock him the fuck out for hurting her. Sometimes I'm a gentlema
n, but there are times where I will fuck someone up when need be.

  "Anyway, sorry to throw all of that family stuff on you. We're supposed to be having a fun night and I'm unloading all of my family drama on you, sorry." Her tone is serious, and I see the hurt behind her eyes bringing all of it up.

  I reach out and place my hand on hers over the rail. "Hey, it's okay. Don't be sorry. Sometimes that heavy stuff gets too hard to hold. I understand."

  She nods and gives me a fake smile, but doesn't say anything else. We wait in line silently, but her hand is still tucked beneath mine and it feels like holding her hand, as simple as that gesture is, it’s how it always should be. Simple, easy. No pressure.

  When we get to the front of the line, the teenager takes my money and gives us both a worn pair of skates. Mine feel like they're an entire size too big, but I don't bother asking for a new pair. My luck, he'd put us at the end of the line and Freya looks too excited.

  She gets her skates laced quickly, shockingly without my help, and we make our way out to the ice. I grip her hand as she steps onto the ice, and she immediately goes down. Literally.

  I can't make this shit up. The second her skate hits the ice, her feet are out in front of her and she's landing on her ass. Hard. She lets out a half yelp, half laugh and I can't help but laugh.

  And laugh.

  And laugh, until it earns me a punch in the leg because she's still on the ground, struggling to get up on the slick ice.

  "I'm sorry! I'm sorry. I couldn't help it." I put my fist to my mouth to hold back another laugh before she beats me up.

  "You're impossible, Finn Mayberry! You don't laugh at a lady, how rude. What happened to being a gentleman, huh?"

  I reach down and grab her hand, pulling her to her feet. She's clutching onto me for dear life, but instead of letting her go back on her own, I pull her closer.

  "Wanna test how gentlemanly I'm feeling right now?" I whisper huskily into her ear. My breath teases the sensitive flesh, inciting a shiver from her.