Page 10 of Mistletoe and Magic

The simple act felt intimate, and watching her tend to the broken sweets, Jace realized that maybe she handled everything with a gentle touch, be it fragile pastries or, perhaps, fragile hearts. The quiet strength in her empathy and the resilience behind her smile struck him as traits that resonated deeply with his own guarded spirit.

Felicity gave the cookies a final, maternal pat before standing, brushing snow from her knees, her movements as fluid as the stream in springtime.

"Need a hand?" he offered, his own reaching out instinctively.

"Thanks, but I've got it," she assured him, her independence another thread in the intricate tapestry of who she was. "You've done enough heroics for one morning."

"Heroics?" Jace raised an eyebrow, amusement warming his tone despite the cold. "I think you give me too much credit."

"Maybe," she conceded with a shrug, her lips quirking in a secretive smile. "But you caught me, Jace. That makes you my hero, at least for today."

"Then today, I'll wear that title proudly." His own smile mirrored hers, a silent acknowledgment of the spark that neither of them could deny.

As Felicity turned toward Cozy Cravings, her steps sure despite the ice, Jace stood rooted to the spot, watching her retreating figure. The fluttering in his chest refused to still, a reminder that sometimes the unexpected detours brought the most promise. And as the distance grew between them, the hope that had sparked in the chaos of spilled gingerbread ignited into a slow burn, guiding him through the cold toward a future suddenly alight with possibility.

Jace’s nod was slow, deliberate, as if he was committing the moment to memory. The chill was biting, but it was nothing compared to the sudden void that Felicity left behind. She was warmth and laughter, a beacon in his stormy sea of doubts. His hands, now absent her touch, found refuge in the depths of his coat pockets, seeking solace in the fleece lining.

"Take care, Felicity," he murmured, the words thick with an unspoken longing.

She paused, a delicate balance of grace and mischief, her breath dancing between them. "You too, Jace. And good luck with the lodge." Her voice carried the soft promise of sharedsecrets, the kind whispered between lovers beneath quilted covers.

Their gazes lingered, a silent conversation stretching across the space that was growing between them. The morning sun caught in her hair, turning the curls spun gold, framing her face like a portrait he'd hang in the heart of the lodge—if only to keep her near.

Felicity stepped away, each footfall on the icy pavement echoing in Jace's chest. The distance grew, yet the connection remained—a tether unseen but palpable, binding him to the hope she'd unknowingly planted within him.

Felicity's form receded into the distance, her red hat a vibrant spot of color against the bakery's quaint exterior. Jace's gaze lingered, tracing the sway of her coat as it whispered promises of warmth against the chill. A smile played upon his lips, unbidden, untamed—a rare guest that seemed intent on staying awhile.

The cool air filled his lungs, but it was her laughter that breathed life into his morning. For the first time since he’d turned the key in the lock of the Northwind Lodge, there was a lightness to his step, a buoyancy to his spirit. The worries that had been his constant companions seemed to fall away like the snow from Felicity's scattered gingerbread men.

Jace felt it then, deep in his chest—a spark, a flicker. Hope. It was as though Felicity's near tumble on the ice had cracked something open within him, allowing the light to seep in where before there was only shadow.

He watched as she reached the bakery door, turning back for a moment with a smile that spoke of new beginnings. The sun, ever so sly, peeked through the clouds, casting a warm hue over everything it touched, including his thoughts.

Christmas Valley, with all its festive cheer and unexpected encounters, suddenly held more promise than just the fate ofan old ski lodge. It held the possibility of rediscovery—of joy, of connection, of something akin to magic. That was something a corporate entity like Sapphire Development would never understand or appreciate.

As Felicity disappeared inside Cozy Cravings, Jace knew the day ahead carried more than just a bank meeting. It carried the potential of paths crossing again, of shared smiles and perhaps even shared tomorrows.

7

FELICITY

Walking away from Jace had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done. Being with him, talking with him had just felt so right. She reminded herself that of course it would feel right; she had created his character to be her perfect dream lover. But it didn’t feel like a dream or even some kind of alternate reality. It felt real. What if it was? What if this was her new reality? What if what she’d thought was her life had only been some kind of bad dream?

Thinking about any of it was giving her a headache. Besides, she had cookies and other baked goods to place. Apparently Cozy Cravings was a happening kind of spot. She had a steady stream of customers—not at all what she had envisioned in her book. She’d seen it as a small-town bakery that was being replaced by one of the larger franchise or grocery chain bakeries. Why had she set her heroine up as a failure? Was she projecting her own fears about her writing onto the Felicity in the book?

Banishing the thoughts of the nature of her dual existence, Felicity concentrated on the tasks at hand, her skilled fingers plunging into the soft, pliable mound of dough in front of her with a sense of purpose and urgency. The flour-covered surface of the bakery counter turned her knuckles white as she kneadedrhythmically, her whole body moving in sync with the task at hand. A fine dusting of flour painted her arms like a baker's tattoo. In this familiar space, her sanctuary at Cozy Cravings, the chaos and confusion of recent events seemed to fade away like wisps of flour dust in the warm, fragrant air.

But even amidst the comforting sounds of whirring mixers, clinking measuring cups, and softly thudding dough, Felicity couldn't shake the memory of her encounter with Jace Winterborne. His sudden appearance had upended her carefully constructed reality, leaving her feeling unmoored and unsettled. For a brief moment, she let herself think about his tousled dark hair and piercing eyes, like those of the towering pine trees that surrounded Christmas Valley.

As much as she immersed herself in the work, Felicity's mind betrayed her, unbidden images of Jace Winterborne filtering through the sieve of her concentration. She recalled his gaze, heavy with an intensity that seemed to see through her defenses—could he see the real her? Did he know he was a figment of her imagination? It left her feeling both exposed and intrigued. His hair had peeked out from under his knit hat, slightly curling at the edges, teasing her with the urge to reach out and touch.

The memory of his grin tugged at the corners of her own lips—a playful, mischievous expression that had sparked something within her, an attraction that was as unexpected as it was powerful. It was the kind of smile that came with its own gravity, pulling her in without permission, leaving her orbiting around the possibility of him.

Felicity tried to focus on the repetitive motion of kneading, the push and pull that usually grounded her—or rather, the fictional her—but it was no use. The solid feel of Jace's presence lingered in her senses, stubbornly vivid, as if he'd somehow imprinted himself onto her reality. His bright eyes held a tease, a promise of laughter and the secrets that could be sharedbetween two souls, and it unsettled her. Warmth curled low in her belly when she thought of his smile, a heat that spread slowly and insidiously, reminding her that he had stirred something in her from the moment she had first conceived of him, and that had only intensified and expanded when they locked eyes.

This pull toward him was a complication she hadn't anticipated, an inconvenient truth that disoriented her well-ordered world. She had to keep reminding herself this wasn’t real—or was it? Nevertheless, what she was feeling was undeniable, and it frightened her with its intensity. How could someone who had stepped straight out of her imagination wield such power over her? Each time she closed her eyes, she saw his face, and the flutter in her heart whispered of things she wasn't sure she was ready to explore.

With a shake of her head, Felicity pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the physicality of her baking tasks. The resistance of the dough beneath her hands provided a welcome distraction from the swirling emotions within her.

---