Page 3 of Inherited Holiday

From the pristine landscaping everywhere you went to the perfectly designed neighborhoods and businesses that just screamed Christmas all year round, it was incredible. The charming aesthetic was right out of a holiday postcard or Hallmark movie. Tourists traveled from all over the world to experience the nostalgia that only this town could bring. It was contagious, even warming the coldest hearts.

Or so I thought…

The town truly was a sight to see, so to be able to actually call it home wasn’t something I ever took for granted. The picturesque location had all four seasons every year. I personally was a fan of winter only because I loved Christmas with all my heart and soul.

I know that sounded corny, trust me. However, I didn’t care. Christmas was a part of my identity, like my mom’s. I took pride in carrying on her traditions from year to year and helping others create their own. From a young age, I had a passion for baking. I think it had something to do with the Woods genes and our sweet tooth.

I turned that hobby into a career, and I’d been the town baker for the past nine years. I started from the bottom and worked my way up. My dream was to eventually own this shop one day, but in the meantime, I treated it as if it were already mine. I took my job very seriously. Making memories with families year after year was one of my favorite things about my career.

Nothing was better than seeing a kid’s face light up with the beauty and magic of this town. I loved every second of it. I guess you could say I was Mrs. Claus, and Mistletoe Town was The North Pole. Everyone knew each other, which meant there wasn’t much for a personal life, but you could easily forget that once you experienced the true joy of Christmas like everyone should at least once in their lives.

Out of all the historic sites, my favorite was the library in themiddle of the town square that housed all the greatest literary classics. I’d always been a book nerd. It was hard to make friends when we constantly moved, and I found companionship in the stories I read. To see four floors filled with novels by some of the greatest writers in history was a memory I’d never forget. I hung out there often, and that hadn’t changed in the past fourteen years.

The truth was, Nicolas Saint Clair was my first real friend. You could even go as far as saying he was my best friend. But that was then, and this was now…

I hadn’t seen or spoken to him since he left Mistletoe Town thirteen years ago, and now, he owned the town he ran away from.

Including my bakery.

His plane landed an hour ago, and it was only a matter of time before he’d step foot into my happy place, spinning it into a whirlwind. From the moment I heard the unexpected news, I couldn’t think straight. It was unbelievable that his grandfather would leave his most prized possession to a man who didn’t actually want it.

Especially when he could have left it to someone who genuinely did. Although I knew he was adamant about keeping it in their family because he turned down millions upon millions of dollars a year to investment buyers dying to get a piece of the pie. It became such a hopeless endeavor that investors stopped trying to take it from under him.

As much as I wanted to pretend to be unfazed by what was about to happen when Nicolas and I locked eyes for the first time after all these years, out of nowhere, I was hit with the memory of the first time we met.

It played out in my mind like it was happening right then and there.

An unfamiliar, rough voice asked, “You new here.”

It was technically a question, but it came out more like a statement. In seconds, my eyes met his, and for a moment, I thought I imagined him, leaning against the bookcase with his arms crossed over his chest.

He instantly intrigued me. There was just something about him that piqued my interest.

“Is that a yes?” he added, arching an eyebrow. “Or does the Grinch have your undivided attention?”

I bit back a smile. He was talking about the book I was reading.

“Aren’t you Nicholas Saint Clair?” I blurted.

I was never one for beating around the bush.

The Saint Clairs created this town decades ago and were basically royalty, but from what I heard, Nicholas kept to himself despite his family being who they were and loving every minute of the spotlight.

“I guess it depends on who you’re asking.”

I shrugged, not backing down. “I guess I’m asking you.”

He smiled almost as if he enjoyed my response. “I’d say the Grinch and I have more in common than I do with the legacy of being a Saint Clair,” he mocked, grinning. “Especially in this Christmas-obsessed town where nothing else matters but Santa Claus coming to town.”

“Oh…” I jerked back, surprised by his outburst.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he ordered in a sharp tone, sitting in the chair in front of me.

My eyebrows pinched together. “Like what?”

“Like I just told you you’re on the naughty list.”

I snickered. I couldn’t help it.

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