Now the guilt really does hit. Go back to his office? Leave Reindeer Falls? That wasn’t in the plan.
But maybe that’s better. Maybe then I can get over this ridiculous fantasy.
“Of course,” I say, straightening up. “Chicago. That’s probably where you belong.”
“Right,” he says, but I swear his gaze lingers on me, in a ‘what am I missing out on’ way. If a gaze could say all that. And if my opinion could be trusted in any way. “I’m glad we finally agree on something,” he adds, and I’m quite sure he’s thinking about how all the ways we could agree on the creative usage of ribbon.
Stop that. Now you’re really losing it.
“Well, good luck,” I tell him, clearing my throat. “I’ll see you in the New Year.”
He winks on his way out the door, and that’s when I realize what this means.
He won.
That jackass is going to skip town without decorating.
Chapter Six
After my last run-in with Ryan Sheppard—at least until January—I have to do something to get my mind off of him and my newly developed fetish for Grinches. I have to erase the visual of the most perfect specimen of man ever created. I have to remind myself exactly why I love Reindeer Falls and why its magic is greater than any Christmas-hating guy from the city.
A Christmas-hating architect. What a waste.
He isn’t even using his architect powers for good. How can anyone be an architect and not want to create aesthetically pleasing Bavarian-themed winter wonderland dwellings? Or chalet-style homes? Or perhaps an igloo-inspired hotel? What’s so great about skyscrapers?
Honestly, how can you be an architect and not be completely obsessed with Reindeer Falls? Even if you hate Christmas—which is already a crime against nature—then you have to at least appreciate the detail of this place. All of the buildings looking exactly like their inspirations in Nuremberg? What architect wouldn’t lose their mind over that? It just doesn’t make any sense.
But I digress. The point is, I need to find something to distract me from Ryan Sheppard and his undecorated house. So I decide to take a walk through downtown to calm my nerves. I need to be reminded that the rest of Reindeer Falls is one hundred percent sane and still madly in love with Christmas, and there’s no better place for that than downtown.
I take a detour over to the Teddy Bear Café, brainchild of Holly Winter and the Flying Reindeer Toy Company, that’s doing absolutely insane business. Since it’s now December, the Bavarian Reindeers are flying off the shelves even quicker than the Bavarian Bears, but as adorable as they are, I’m not here for either of those. No, I’m here for the bretzel.
Hot, and salty to boot, it’s the perfect treat to wash away how I’m feeling. Plus, Holly can be counted on to have the Christmas decorations up and on full display right after Thanksgiving, so the entire storefront’s already transformed. Handmade snowflakes glitter at me from the window, and I smile at the sight of children laughing as they offer their reindeer cups of tea.
This is magic. Pure magic. How could anyone not want to be a part of this?
With my bretzel in hand, I continue my loop past the other stores, which are also, of course, bringing their full Christmas A-game. Red and green and white bows, penguins gliding down pretend snowbanks, hand-knitted sweaters. I’m tempted by some mistletoe earrings that would compliment my elf hat, but I resist. Not because they’re not amazing, but because there’s a line out the door to buy them, and I don’t want to be late for book club.
I hightail it to Ginger’s Bake Shop with the spring in my step renewed. Just the smell alone takes my stress level down about eighty points. Hints of clover, molasses, cardamom, and, of course, ginger float through the air. The Nutcracker Suite plays over the shop speakers, and there’s a line of tween girls waiting for fresh scones and cocoa in snow bunny suits. They giggle and gush, talking about the gifts they’re hoping to get and all the sledding they’re going to do. It reminds me that I need to make sure I’m making the most of the season and get out into the snow myself.
That might be the only bad part about Christmas. It’s over so fast. The time between Thanksgiving and December flies by, and then, before you know it, it’s Christmas Eve and you’re getting bombarded with sale emails from every retailer you’ve ever made the mistake of sharing your email address with. Then you review your Christmas bucket list and realize you only got through half of the things you wanted to do that year. Or, at least, that’s how it goes if you’re not careful.
I spot Lexi and Sutton at a table near the back, cozy by a roaring fireplace. It’s a prime spot, and I’m already itching to pull off my jacket. Besides, I can’t wait to hear what they thought about the book. Still, I’m not sitting down until I have a cup of cocoa and at least one cookie. Maybe a scone, too. Yes, I know that I just had a bretzel, and yes, I know calories don’t magically not count during the holidays. But if you’re smart—and I am—your winter pants have stretch.