Page 13 of Mistletoe and Magic

"Believe me, Evelyn, I haven't." He pushed off from the desk, feeling the weight of her expectations—and those of an entiretown—settle onto his shoulders. "I'll do what I can to keep this place going."

"Good," she nodded, her smile both encouraging and knowing. "Because we need you. This town needs you."

As Evelyn turned to leave, her words echoed in the cavernous space, mingling with the pine scent and the crisp mountain air. Jace felt the burden of his duty, but also a glimmer of something else—a challenge that ignited his adventurous spirit.

"All right, Northwind," he whispered, his voice steady and resolute, "let's see what we can do."

Jace watched Evelyn's face crumple, the lines of her grief as stark as the bare branches outside the frosted windows. "Pete and I," she began, her voice hitching, "we saw what was happening to villages like ours, swallowed by cold corporate giants with no care for the community, for its soul."

"Is that why he never sold?" Jace prodded gently, his own heart clenching at the pain in her watery eyes.

Evelyn nodded, a tear escaping down her cheek. "After my Harold passed, Pete... he became more than a friend. We both dreamed of preserving this valley, its charm, its warmth." She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, her gaze distant. "Selling to developers would've been the end of Christmas Valley as we know it."

Understanding washed over Jace, along with an unexpected surge of kinship. He reached out, covering her hand with his own. "I get it now."

Evelyn squeezed his hand, her smile wistful. "Pete knew he was getting older and wasn’t sure he had what it would take to bring the lodge back. He didn’t want to sell it to just anyone. He hoped you’d be up for the challenge and would have the fire and drive to take the reins and restore it to its former glory."

Jace smiled. “I just hope his faith in me wasn’t misplaced.”

9

JACE

The warmth from her touch lingered even as Evelyn departed, leaving Jace alone with his thoughts and the fading daylight. A new resolve settled within him as he locked the massive front door of the lodge, the click echoing in the quiet. He made his way up the grand staircase, the wood creaking beneath his boots, to the third floor.

His owner’s suite awaited, untouched potential lying within its spacious confines. The room hummed with possibilities, and Jace could almost hear the laughter and stories that these walls yearned to witness once again. He crossed to the panoramic window, taking in the breathtaking view of snow-capped mountains and the sleepy town below, bathed in the golden hues of sunset.

Turning away from the window, Jace pulled out a notepad and pen from the pocket of his flannel shirt. His mind buzzed with ideas as he imagined transforming the space. At the top of the list, he penned 'Chef’s Kitchen' in bold letters. That same need was listed for the lodge below. It wasn’t just about feeding guests; it was about crafting experiences, warming hearts with more than just the flicker of the fireplace. The lodge needed tobecome not only a haven for out-of-town guests, but a dining destination for locals.

Concentrating on his personal space first, he wrote, "Professional-class appliances, a large island with seating for four to six, maybe an herb garden out on the balcony." He muttered to himself as he sketched rough designs and jotted down notes. This would be his sanctuary, a place where he could create and reignite the spark that had brought him to Christmas Valley in the first place.

As the sky melted into purples and blues, Jace felt a connection to the lodge, to the town, and to the generations before him who had protected this place. There was an allure here, woven through every wooden beam and whispered by the wind against the glass.

He leaned back in the chair, the list growing longer, each item a promise to breathe life back into Northwind Lodge. With every stroke of the pen, Jace vowed to honor his uncle's legacy and Evelyn's trust. This wasn't just a building; it was a testament to history, to love, to community. And he would fight to keep it alive, whatever it took.

As the afternoon drew to a close, Jace returned to his room on the main floor and stepped into the shower. The water cascaded over his skin, washing away the residue of stress from his meeting with the bank manager and the significance of Evelyn's emotional revelations. Steam fogged the glass enclosure of the shower as he lathered soap across his broad shoulders, muscles relaxing under the hot stream. He tilted his head back, letting the water stream through his hair and down his taut back, tracing the lines of a body honed by adventure and toil.

The steam rose around Jace in a ghostly dance, shrouding the bathroom in a mist as thick as the secrets of Christmas Valley. The shower's heat seeped into his skin, muscles relaxing under the persistent cascade of warm water that pattered against his broad shoulders. He leaned his palm against the cool tiles, head bowed as he tried to focus on the sensation of water sluicing down his back.

But the physical comfort provided by the shower did nothing to soothe the raw, pulsing need that tightened in his loins. It was a hunger, primal and demanding, one that echoed with every throb of his heart. His cock, unabashed in its urgency, betrayed him with its insistent hardness—a testament to the fact that it yearned for one thing alone: the warm, welcoming embrace ofher.

Jace's mind, relentless in its pursuit, conjured images of Felicity—the curve of her smile, the spark of mischief in her eyes, the way she moved with an effortless grace that belied the strength within. Her laughter, a melody that resonated with his soul, played in his ears, stirring a longing deep within him.

His eyes, usually so alive with adventure, now darkened with desire. They closed briefly as he inhaled the steam, letting it fill his lungs like a promise yet to be fulfilled. He could almost taste the sweetness of her kiss on his lips—better yet, the feel of those luscious lips wrapped around his cock—feel the press of her body against his own. Yet when he reached out, his hands found only the chill of tile and emptiness.

The echo of solitude mocked him, and Jace knew that no amount of water, regardless of the temperature, would extinguish what burned inside. For beneath the flannel and denim that clothed his everyday existence lay a yearning that no mountain air or scenic vista could appease. It was a yearning not just for flesh, but for connection—for the intimacy that could only be found in the intertwining of souls.

As the water continued to pour over him, his decision crystallized with the clarity of ice on a pine bough. Allowing the water to race over his body, he realized the pulsing in his loins was relentless—a taunting echo of her name. Felicity. His mind whispered the word like a sacred mantra. He knew what he needed to do, and it didn't involve cold showers or distractions.

Closing his eyes, he summoned her image. Felicity, with her curly blonde locks that framed her face like an aureole, her eyes deep as the winter sky at dusk. He imagined those eyes looking up at him, filled with the same hunger that now clawed at his insides.

His hand wrapped around his length, a shiver of pleasure rippling through his body. With each stroke, he saw her more clearly—Felicity, in an oversized sweater, the kind that slipped off one shoulder to reveal the creamy skin beneath. He pictured himself peeling it away, exposing her inch by delicious inch.

The fantasy built within him, a crescendo of longing and lust. In his mind's theater, he tasted her lips, sweet and yielding, heard her gentle yet hesitant voice urging him on with whispered literary references that spiraled their passion to new heights. He felt the softness of her curves pressed against his hard body, her empathy wrapping around him even as he drove into her with a fervor borne of pent-up desire.

"Ah, Felicity," he groaned into the quiet room, her name spilling from his lips like a fervent prayer. His movements became more urgent, his grip tightening as he imagined her beneath him, around him, enveloping him in her warmth and creativity. He saw her eyes widen with pleasure, felt her body quiver under his touch, heard her breath catch as they moved together toward the edge of ecstasy.

With a final surge, Jace succumbed to the vision, his body tensing then shuddering as release washed over him, waves of heat that pulsed in time with the throbbing memory of hername. For a moment, he stood there, spent and gasping as his cum washed down the drain, the ghost of her presence lingering like a promise in the charged air.

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