Page 8 of My Greatest Joy

“I was looking around and wanted to see its face. I was in disbelief that I wasn’t in a Christmas store with the amount of decor.”

He shakes his head. “I should’ve known something was off when I saw that.”

“You’re telling me you missed my coat hanging on the rack, my boots by the door, and not to mention my whole-ass minivan in the driveway, but you noticed a small figurine not in the right spot?”

“I came in through the back door. Never saw your car or items. Besides, I like Christmas.” He shrugs unapologetically.

“You’re a little too old to be nerding out for Santa,” I taunt, finding it quite refreshing, but I’d never admit that to him.

“Never too old for holiday spirit.” He winks and makes his way into the kitchen.

I follow and take a seat at the breakfast bar.

“You hungry?” He flashes a boyish grin, showing off his perfect white teeth.

“I could eat.”

He places a cast iron pan on the stove and turns on the burner. Then he pulls bacon and eggs from the fridge. Not that I’m purposely gawking, but it’s hard not to as this lumberjack of a man cooks for me.

He glances over his shoulder at me as I try to understand his schtick. “So…is this Christmas thing a part of your identity or something? Do you work for Santa?”

He chuckles with amusement. “Do you hate the holidays?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“You’re joking,” he deadpans like I’m the psychopath here when he has mistletoe hanging in his doorway with no one to kiss.

“No. I don’t celebrate it at all.”

And his smile I’m admittedly getting used to fades.

“You do realize that you are visiting the place that’s fabled to have been the original North Pole?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m aware, and from what I saw when I drove through, I’m not that impressed. I’ve seen more believable movie sets built in California parking lots.”

“Now that’s offensive. Wait until you witness it in its full glory during the winter festival,” he tells me while fixing our plates.

Guilt slaps me in the face because it’s not my intention to shit all over his town. However, the last thing I need is a new friend who’s holiday obsessed when I’m actively trying to avoid it.

“Levi.” I grab his attention as he sets our plates down on the breakfast bar. “I want to apologize for how I reacted last night and for macing you. Not that it’s an excuse, but I had a horrible day getting here and had to drive over two hours in this weather.”

“You drove that far?”

“Yeah, my flight got canceled, and I didn’t want to wait in the airport overnight.”

“Wow, that sucks. I’m shocked you made it here in one piece.”

“Me too,” I say honestly. “But anyway, who leaves their door unlocked?”

“I was outside chopping wood,” he explains. “Didn’t realize I had to dead bolt it to stop Goldilocks from getting comfy in my bed.”

His smirk has me glaring at him. “Very funny. You act like I purposely snuck in.”

“I’m not the only one to blame here, babe. You didn’t see how lived in the house was and think maybe you were in the wrong place?”

Before I can argue, the lights flicker. I pick up my phone, and Levi does the same.

“We lost Wi-Fi. The router will restart, but there might be an area-wide outage,” he tells me.

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