Page 24 of Mistletoe and Magic

A sudden intrusion shattered the moment, the door opening with purposeful force. Heather, his ex, stepped inside with the confidence of someone who never understood the word 'no.' Her smile was a practiced curve of lips, devoid of any real warmth.

"Jace, darling, you can't ignore me forever," she cooed, her voice like honey laced with venom.

“Can’t I?” he rejoined. He would have liked to have said he’d never received any kind of communication from her since coming to Vermont, but he couldn’t—he’d simply ignored them.

Behind her, a stunning blonde entered, her presence commanding attention. "Candace Prescott," Heather introduced, gesturing towards the woman with an air of triumph. "Sapphire Development. My company is helping Candace’s company in developing some properties here in the Northeast."

‘Pretty on the outside,’ Jace thought, He doubted there was anything pretty about Candace Prescott on the inside. Her eyes held a ruthlessness that felt more chilling than the winter air outside. They were the eyes of someone who viewed people as stepping stones rather than souls. She reminded him of a blonde version of Cruella De Vil.

"Your persistence is noted, but not welcome," Jace said flatly, his gaze unwavering. "I've no interest in you, your proposals, or your company."

Candace’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. It was the sort of smile that hinted at darker things, a predator baring its teeth before it pounced. "You're making a mistake, Mr. Winterborne. I always get what I want, one way or another."

"Not this time, and is that a threat?"

"Consider it a prophecy," Candace replied, tilting her head slightly, her golden hair catching the flicker of the firelight.

Her hair was almost the same color as Felicity’s, but where Felicity’s was all wild and bouncing curls, Candace Prescott’s was sleek and straight with only a slight wave he was sure had been produced by some sort of curling iron.

"Prophecies don’t always come true," Jace countered, turning his back on them both. He couldn't help but think how Felicity would have hated this exchange—the conflict, the harsh words, the underlying malice. She liked stories with heart, tales that spoke of the human spirit and its capacity for love.

"Tell me, Miss Prescott," Jace said staring into the fire without turning around to look at them again, "do you believe in happy endings?"

"Only when they benefit me," came the cool reply.

Jace chuckled without humor. A part of him knew that the battle lines were being drawn, that the fight for Northwind Lodge was only just beginning. But in that moment, all he could think about was the way Felicity's eyes would light up when they talked about the future and how he envisioned the Northwind and how it could help the village itself, and how she believed so fiercely in happy endings.

The lodge was his dream, his second chance—and Heather was a chapter he had closed. Yet here she was, threatening to reopen old wounds with her mere presence.

“Jace, you’re behaving foolishly. You should at least hear what Candace has to say.”

"I’m not interested," Jace insisted, turning back to them and holding Prescott’s gaze. She was a woman who thrived on control, on getting under people's skin. But he wasn't the same man that Heather had probably described. Northwind Lodge was his future, and nothing could sway him from that path.

Jace's gaze shifted from Prescott to Heather and back again. She really was stunning in a cool, patrician sort of way, the kind of beauty that seemed almost ethereal against the rustic backdrop of the lodge.

"Why are you still standing here? I thought I’d made myself clear. You and your proposals aren't welcome here." Jace's words sliced through the air, leaving no room for misunderstanding. He snorted, a sound that held no humor, only dismissal. "Take your business elsewhere and don’t come back."

Heather's eyes narrowed, the malice within them sparking like flint. "Jace, be reasonable. This is a generous offer, and Candace is just trying to…"

"Northwind Lodge isn't for sale," Jace stated unequivocally, his eyes simmering with anger. He turned his back on them, the action deliberate, a physical barrier to their persistence. The lodge was his haven, his passion project, not some corporate asset to be bargained over. It represented a life he was painstakingly rebuilding, one far removed from the cutthroat world Heather and Candace thrived in.

When he didn’t hear them move away, he looked over his shoulder.

Candace's smile wavered, her poise faltering for a split second before she regained her composure. "We'll be in touch, Mr. Winterborne," she said, though her voice lacked its former confidence.

He wandered over to one of the large windows on the front of the lodge, watching them leave. After they’d done so, Jace returned to the fire, clasping his hands behind his back, his unwanted encounters weighing heavily on his broad shoulders. The renovation beckoned to him with a promise of renewal and refuge, and he was keen to immerse himself in the work that grounded him.

"Tom, Mike," Jace called out, spotting the two young men he'd hired to help restore Northwind Lodge to its former glory. They were up on ladders, diligently sanding down the aged wood beams that crisscrossed the high ceiling. Their dedication was like a soothing balm to his ruffled spirit.

"Hey, boss!" Tom's voice echoed through the spacious room, a hint of sawdust swirling around him like a halo of hard work. "How's it looking from down there?"

"Like you're breathing new life into this old place," Jace responded, his voice tinged with pride. "Just remember, we're aiming for rustic charm, not splinter hazards."

Mike chuckled, brushing his palms together, sending a shower of wood particles cascading downward. "No worries, Jace. We've got it under control."

"Good to hear," Jace nodded, his gaze sweeping across the lodge's interior. It was coming together, piece by piece, just like the puzzle of his own life. Felicity had become an unexpected piece of that puzzle, her presence bringing warmth to the coldest corners of his heart. He thought of her smile, the way it seemed to hold secrets and promises all at once. How she spoke of love as if it were a tangible thing, something he could reach out and touch—if only he dared to believe in it again.

"Boss, you okay?" Mike's question pulled Jace back from the brink of his musings.

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