Page 17 of Mistletoe and Magic

"Is that so? And if I say no?" Jace rubbed his face, already knowing the futility of resistance against the mayor's brand of community spirit.

Mayor Moorehouse’s laughter tinkled through the line. "Oh, you could say it, but I wouldn't take it for an answer. Besides, Felicity will be there, providing sustenance to our brave volunteers. You wouldn't want to miss out on her delectable treats, now would you?"

Somehow, Jace knew, the treats the mayor was referring to had nothing to do with her baking. Ahhh, life in a small town. A smile curved Jace's lips despite the hour, the mention of Felicity igniting a different kind of warmth within him—a spark that hadnothing to do with the cold or the inconvenience of the untimely request. "Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse?"

"Charming as ever, Jace. See you in the square this evening. And I think Peter had a bunch of decorations in the basement—old ornaments and lights. Ta-ta!"

The line went dead before he could protest further. Jace replaced the receiver and lay back, the prospect of seeing Felicity under the guise of civic duty suddenly transforming the task from an annoyance into an opportunity. The warmth of her nearness at the event and the taste of her hot cocoa on his tongue were motivation enough to volunteer for anything.

Jace's fingers hovered over the phone, his decision made in the split second before he dialed Felicity's number. The cool metal felt grounding as he listened to the ring, a lifeline to normalcy amidst the mayor's impromptu plans.

"Hey," Felicity's voice was a soothing melody that calmed the storm inside him, "I heard you've been conscripted into Christmas duty."

"Guilty as charged," Jace chuckled, picturing her curled up with a book somewhere, the soft glow of fairy lights tangled in her curls. "Seems like Mayor Moorehouse thinks I'm the man for the job."

A laugh tinkled through the line, rich and warm, and Jace could almost feel the vibration against his ear. "You had to know it was coming, Jace.”

"Is that so?" He let the amusement lace his words, leaning back against the worn pillows, envisioning her smile. "And what about you? I hear you're supplying the fuel to keep us going."

"Only the best hot cocoa on this side of Vermont," she said, pride lacing her tone. "And maybe some ginger snaps if you're lucky."

"Can't wait to taste them," he replied, a double entendre hanging between them like the mistletoe neither dared acknowledge.

The conversation drifted towards a comfortable end, anticipation simmering beneath their goodbyes—a pact sealed without words. As they hung up, Jace's thoughts lingered on the sound of her laughter, a beacon guiding him through the day ahead.

Jace spent the rest of the day finding the lights and ornaments for the town’s tree, ordering a dumpster to be used for renovation, and beginning the demolition that would be needed in the owner’s flat he intended to create.

That evening, the Christmas Valley square came alive with the spirit of the season. The scent of fresh evergreen filled Jace's lungs as he stepped into the wintry tableau, invigorated by the sharp air. Carols floated on the breeze, voices blended in harmony, echoing off the snow-dusted buildings.

He strolled among the townspeople, each one decked out in festive attire, their breath misting in the chilly air. Twinkling lights wrapped around lampposts cast a festive hue on the scene, illuminating faces aglow with holiday cheer. Jace found himself humming along to the familiar tunes, his heart lighter than it had been in years.

As he reached for a string of lights, his hands brushed against delicate glass baubles, their surfaces reflecting the joyous scene around him. Each ornament held a memory, a story of Christmas past, and for a moment, he was lost in the nostalgia of simpler times.

Then, cutting through the reverie, came the unmistakable scent of chocolate and spices—Felicity's promised contribution to the night's festivities. Jace turned, catching sight of her among the volunteers, a tray of steaming mugs in her hands.

"Here you go,” she offered, her eyes sparkling with mirth beneath the soft halo of streetlamps.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Jace replied, accepting the mug, his fingers brushing hers—a jolt of electricity in the innocent touch.

Jace's breath formed a cloud as he exhaled, the cold air mingling with the scent of pine and chocolate that lingered around them. He watched Felicity navigate through the crowd, her laughter catching on the wind, a sound more intoxicating than the spices wafting from the mugs they held. It was in this moment, under the twinkling canopy of Christmas lights, that he acknowledged to himself the irresistible pull he felt towards her.

Without fully understanding his own intentions, Jace closed the distance between them. His arm slipped around her waist, bringing her into a brief embrace that spoke volumes more than words could convey. The touch was light, a fleeting hug followed by a chaste kiss pressed to her temple—a token of affection hidden in the guise of friendly camaraderie. He didn't want the townsfolk to see and to know—not yet; their relationship was still a delicate bud, not ready for the harshness of public scrutiny.

But Felicity, who seemed to be always bold in the face of her own fears, seemed to have different plans. As Jace began to retreat, maintaining the facade of casualness, she reached out and seized the front of his coat with a determination that belied her usual gentle demeanor. She tugged him back towards her, and in an act of fearless spontaneity, her lips found his in a deep, impassioned kiss that scorched through the wintry night.

The world seemed to stand still, the festive melodies fading into a hushed lull as the two of them existed in a sphere of their own making. The kiss was a declaration, a challenge to the fragility of new love, searing away doubt and hesitation with its fervor.

Their audience, made up of friendly townsfolk, erupted in cheers and whistles as they embraced the romance unfurling before their eyes. Ivy, as Felicity’s best friend and most vocal supporter of budding relationships, led the chorus with a rambunctious "Whoop whoop!" Her voice cut through the crisp air, a celebratory note that added to the magic of the evening.

As Jace and Felicity finally broke apart, breathless and grinning like fools, Jace realized that Felicity's impulsiveness had shifted something within him. Desire, once a smoldering ember, was now a blazing inferno, and where there was once trepidation, there now stood a fierce protectiveness and an overwhelming urge to deepen their connection. In that brazen kiss, she had not only claimed his lips but also laid siege to the walls surrounding his heart.

Jace leaned against the frost-kissed railing of the town square’s gazebo, his gaze wandering over the townspeople as they bustled around the towering Christmas tree that stretched towards the night sky. His eyes found Felicity among them, her laughter a silver bell chiming through the din of carols and chattering voices. The sight of her, cheeks rosy and sparkling eyes, ignited what was becoming an all too familiar warmth in his chest—a sensation that had long lain dormant beneath layers of guarded solitude.

She was in her element, animated and vibrant amidst the townsfolk, her hair catching the soft glow of the string of twinkling lights that wove through the branches above. Jace watched, mesmerized, as she lifted a handmade ornament, her slender fingers tracing its contours with the gentle reverence of a curator handling a priceless relic. Her laugh, free and unburdened, was the kindling that set his senses ablaze.

Amidst the twinkling lights and evergreen scent, their eyes met across the crowded space. In Felicity's blue gaze, there flickered a spark of shared secrets, of silent promises woven intothe fabric of the night. For a suspended heartbeat, everything else fell away—the sting of past betrayals, the weight of responsibility that the lodge demanded—leaving only the raw intensity of the present.

The world around Jace seemed to mute, the colors blending into a watercolor backdrop for the moment unfolding before him. He felt himself drawn to her, tethered by an invisible thread that tugged at his very soul. And in the dance of her eyes, he read a story more compelling than any he'd known—a narrative of hope and healing that whispered of new beginnings.

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