Page 11 of Mistletoe and Magic

As she measured out precise portions of dough for various pastries and breads, her mind kept flickering back to Jace's unexpected touch. It had been electric, igniting a warmth in her that felt both foreign and achingly familiar. She forced herself to stay grounded in the present moment, pouring all of her confusion and desire into each culinary creation before her.

The repetitive motions were almost meditative, soothing in their simplicity. She was increasingly aware that her dream or alternate reality was far more relaxing and fulfilling than what she remembered her reality as being. Before moving to New York, Felicity had loved to bake, but her small apartment in the midst of the city didn’t allow for that. She realized with a small pang that she missed the task and wondered why she had given it up so willingly.

The scents of vanilla and cinnamon enveloped Felicity like a comforting embrace, anchoring her in this little corner of the world where she could escape from unexpected complications—particularly those involving tall, ruggedly handsome men. With each pat and mold of the dough, she reaffirmed her resolve to focus solely on her baking, at least for now. As she looked down at the shape she had created in dough, she realized that perhaps allowing her mind to wander was not the best idea. The shape of the dough before her was definitely phallic.

Snorting at her own whimsy, Felicity rolled the shape up, folded it back in on itself and decided to focus on making the shape something a little less risqué. For a little while longer, she could hide away from the outside world and all of its complexities in the heart of her novel and her beloved bakery.

The freshly baked golden brown cookies emerged from the ovens, their edges glistening and perfectly crisped as Felicity carefully slid them onto the cooling racks. The sweet scent of chocolate chips mingled with the rich aroma of buttery dough, enveloping the bakery in a warm, comforting cloud. Felicity closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to be lost in the familiar and soothing smells that surrounded her.

But even in this peaceful haven, she couldn't completely escape the tumultuous emotions that had been swirling inside her since Jace, the hero from her unfinished novel, had just become a part of this reality. The heat from the ovens flushed her cheeks, but it paled in comparison to the intense heat she had felt when Jace was near—a tingling sensation on her skin under his piercing gaze, an involuntary shiver down her spine at the sound of his voice, the simmer in her nether regions.Netherregions? Good god. I am really starting to lose it.In this quiet corner of her bakery, with flour dusting her apron and her hands busy shaping, or in some cases re-shaping, dough, Felicity found temporary respite from the predicament into which she seemed to have fallen and the overwhelming attraction to a man who didn’t really exist that threatened to consume her.

The door from the outside burst open, and a woman who could only be Ivy Sinclair, book Felicity’s best friend. Ivy had spent the summers in the village with her grandmother who owned the local bookstore, Timeless Tales. Ivy stomped the snow from her feet as she entered. She shook herself before removing her heavy winter coat and thrusting it up onto one of the coat hooks Felicity provided for her customers.

"Girl, you wouldn't believe who I just saw at the market!" Ivy always entered a room with a flurry of energy. This time it wasn’t just energy but a gust of cold air and snowflakes that quickly melted on the warm tiles. Her brown eyes sparkled with excitement beneath a tangle of short, dark curls.

Felicity turned to face the best friend she had created for her heroine and who had become a part of this warped reality in which she found herself. Still dusted with flour, she braced herself for whatever Ivy was about to share. She knew all too well that Ivy was like a force of nature—unstoppable, unpredictable, and utterly endearing—the ideal best friend Felicity had always wanted in her real life.

"Who?" Felicity asked, trying to keep her voice steady despite the sudden fluttering in her stomach. A part of her hoped it would be something related to Jace, while another part feared it would be.

Ivy leaned against the counter with a conspiratorial grin. "Only the most eligible bachelors in town. And let me tell you, the selection is looking mighty fine this season."

As Ivy launched into a rapid-fire account of newcomers, tourists and old flames, Felicity did her best to keep up, nodding and smiling where appropriate.Where was Ivy getting all of this? I didn’t write this much backstory for her.But beneath the lighthearted banter, there was an underlying edge—a sharpness to Ivy's words that hinted at their shared yearnings for love and connection. As each mention of romance and courtship passed by, Felicity's thoughts drifted back to Jace—to the thrill of possibility mingled with the fear of getting hurt or waking up to find the whole thing had been just a dream—a dream from which she was starting to not want to wake. The sugary scent of baked goods suddenly seemed cloying as she tried to push away her conflicting emotions and focus on Ivy's gossipy tales.

In the bustling bakery, amidst the cacophony of clanging pans, the thump of dough against marble, and the steady flow of customers, Felicity's hands moved with a fluid grace. Each pastry was skillfully molded as if it were an extension of her own flesh and blood. The heat from the ovens enveloped her like a warm embrace, the intoxicating scents of chocolate and vanilla swirling through the air like sweet threads.

But then, Ivy's voice pierced through the cozy tapestry of aromas and sounds, sharp as a knife yet infectious in its excitement. "And guess what? There's this gorgeous, muscular hunk who's just taken over Northwind Lodge."

Felicity's fingers faltered around a ball of dough, a shiver running down her spine at the mention of his name. She could feel her heart racing, her stomach fluttering with a mixture of nerves and excitement. It wasn't just fear that caused her grip on the counter to tighten; it was the undeniable spark of recognition—the image of merry eyes and a crooked smile that she feared would haunt her every waking moment.

"Really?" Felicity tried to sound nonchalant, tucking a stray curl behind her ear but her hand trembled slightly, betraying her inner turmoil.

Ivy giggled, her crystal-clear laughter ringing through the kitchen as she leaned closer with mischief vibrant in her eyes. "Don’t give me that innocent look. Like it or not, it’s all over town. Everyone says you had quite the encounter with him. A literal run-in with the new owner of the lodge. I got to hand it to you, I never thought of colliding into a wall of muscle like that and spilling cookies all over him."

A blush crept up Felicity's cheeks at the memory of Jace's solid frame colliding with hers, igniting a fire within her that she couldn't deny. Her best friend's amusement only added fuel to the flames, the thought of their accidental meeting being common knowledge sending a flicker of panic through her mind.

"Is that so?" Felicity attempted a smirk, hoping to hide the rush of blood to her face and the curious fluttering at the base of her spine. "Well, people do love their little gossipy tales, don't they?"

"Gossip? You make that sound like a bad thing," Ivy said with a knowing glint in her eyes. "But we both know there's nothing 'little' about a collision with destiny—or a man like that."

The knowing look in Ivy's eyes was enough to send another shiver down Felicity's spine. As much as she wanted to dismiss it all as idle gossip, deep down, she knew this was more than just a chance encounter. It felt more and more like the turning of a page, the beginning of a chapter she hadn't dared to write—even in her wildest dreams. Was it fate or the wishes she’d wished coming through?

The bakery continued to hum with activity, but Felicity’s thoughts were consumed by the memory of Jace’s touch—strong yet gentle, igniting a flame within her that she couldn’t deny. She could feel his presence lingering in the room, his voice echoingin her mind. As the delicious aromas swirled around her, Felicity couldn’t help but wonder what fate had in store for her now that she had awakened in her own novel and Jace had arrived in town.

8

JACE

Jace leaned forward, his elbows resting on the mahogany desk that seemed as weathered as the mountains surrounding Christmas Valley. The bank manager's office was a small, cloistered space where the scent of aged paper and leather mingled in the air, wrapping around him like the feel of an old library—comforting, yet still a bit formal. His gaze, sharp and green as the pines outside, held onto the man sitting across from him, searching for some glimmer of hope in the other man’s weary eyes.

"Mr. Winterborne," the bank manager began, his voice carrying the weight of unwelcome news, "I'm afraid the financials for Northwind Lodge are quite clear." He tapped a finger on the stack of papers that detailed years of losses, a rhythm of defeat that seemed to echo off the walls. "It's been bleeding money for quite some time now. I know there was an offer from a developer, but your uncle turned them down because he felt accepting it would have negative consequences for the town."

Jace's heart sank, a heavy stone thrown into the depths of his chest. He had suspected as much, but hearing it laid out with such finality was another matter. The lodge, his refuge andnewfound purpose, was gasping for air, struggling under the burden of neglect and dwindling tourism. But he wasn't one to be easily discouraged. The lodge wasn't just a building; it was part of him now, its wooden beams and stone hearth infused with the same rugged charm that defined him.

He leaned back in the creaking leather chair, feeling the texture beneath his fingers—a mix of smooth and cracked—much like his own journey. There was something almost sensual in the way the chair conformed to his frame, the way the room seemed to close in around him, pressing him for a decision, a plan of action.

"Thank you for being straight with me," Jace said, his voice steady despite the turmoil brewing inside him. The manager nodded, a silent acknowledgment between men who understood the harsh realities of business. Yet, Jace’s words carried an undertone of resilience, a refusal to be broken by numbers on a page. The warmth in his tone, usually reserved for lighter, more flirtatious conversations, was tinged with a steely determination now.

"Tourism has dropped steeply. Many businesses are being forced to shut down. We’ve always been a seasonal town that depended on people coming to visit, but they’re just not returning year after year like they did in the past. Huge, modern resorts are taking the place of charming little villages with rustic accommodations. Young people want to go where there’s a nightlife, which we just can’t offer them," the manager said, a hint of regret lining his words. "Without substantial collateral and/or a personal guarantee, I don't see how we could approve the lodge’s loan application."

---