Page 4 of Yule Tied Up

She glances at him, and as I flick my gaze at her, I bite back my laugh. Her eyes are narrowed, and she’s glaring.

“You willnotmake this about sex,” she says. “Not the damn markets. I won’t have it.”

“Challenge accepted,” I murmur.

She slaps my leg lightly.

Dom points through the windshield. “There’s an empty spot. It’s tight, but you should make it.”

“Dah. I’m so glad I have you backseat driving,” I shoot back. “And I’m an expert at getting into tight spots.”

Tino snorts. “I need to find a Santa outfit. Dress up as him and have Kenzie sit on my knee.”

I park the car, and we all clamber out. The cold hits my face, and I turn up the collar of my jacket, burying my face into the material. I’m used to cold winters in Russia, but I think my time spent in the States has made me soft.

Dom plants his hands on his hips. “What first?”

“I want to look around the stalls,” Mackenzie says. “I have gifts to buy. I need something for your dad, and Camile. Then maybe a horse drawn wagon ride?”

“That’s so touristy,” Dom says.

Tino rolls his eyes. “Yes, asshole, and we’re tourists.”

“Fine, so, stalls, wagon ride, then what?”

The mouth-watering scent of fried onions is coming from somewhere, and I’m sure I can smell fried donuts and gingerbread too. “Snacks,” I say.

“We’ll be eating when we get back,” Dom points out.

I shake my head at him. “Fucking hell. Who made you the Grinch? Fine, snacks now, as we walk around the stalls, and then the ride.”

Mackenzie beams. “Sounds great.” She’s got a light dusting of snow in her blonde hair already, and it makes her look extra pretty.

We head from the parking lot and along the snow-covered main road to the town square where the market is being held. This town is one of those places you occasionally find in America where you could honestly be in the early 1900s.

The markets are bustling with people, all wrapped up in scarves, with woolen hats pulled down over their ears. Cheeks and tips of noses are red from the cold. Many carry armfuls of brown paper bags, most likely containing gifts or Christmas treats, while others warm their hands with hot cups of chocolate. Everyone is smiling and seems to be enjoying the festivities.

The market stalls are individual huts, the roofs crested with snow and draped with garlands. A huge Christmas tree takes pride of place in the center of the market, its boughs heavy with baubles and outdoor lights. At the farthest point is an outdoor ice rink, and the squeals and laughter of those on the ice drift over to us. On a bandstand, a choir sings Christmas carols.

“I love snow,” Tino says, sticking his tongue out like a big kid. “Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it.”

The delicious scent of roasting chestnuts hits my nose, and my stomach growls. Damn, I’m hungry. I follow my nose, with Dom, Tino, and Mackenzie trailing behind me. As we reach the first stalls, I see that this end of the market is mostly food and drink. I presume the far end will be things like decorations and gifts.

“Bratwurst?” Dom points to a stall selling massive sausages. “Bet you’d like to wrap your lips around that.” He waggles his brows at me, and I laugh.

“Nah, thanks.” I kind of do like the way it smells, but if I eat a massive German hot dog, I won’t want to eat tonight, and Mackenzie went to a lot of trouble making food for this trip. “I’m saving myself.”

The next stall has marzipan, and there’s a plate on the counter with free samples. I’ve never tasted it before, so I take one and bite into it.

“Good?” Tino asks as we walk by to the next stall.

I grimace. “Jesus, it’s too sweet.”

There’s a mulled cider stall across the way, and Tino grins. “That’s more like it. Mulled cider, anyone?”

I shake my head. Mackenzie does the same. But Dom goes and gets one with Tino.

As we walk side by side, I bump Mackenzie gently with my arm. She grins and bumps back. I know we share her, and I know deep down she loves us all the same, but there’s a tiny part of me that likes to wish-cast us having a special connection because of what happened.

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