She chuckled, giving me a wink before disappearing back into the shop, leaving us alone in the warmth and quiet of the kitchen.

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, but I couldn’t hide the grin that tugged at my lips. A quiet, sheepish laugh escaped me. “Guess I’d better go,” I muttered, trying to keep my voice steady, but my heart was still racing; it felt big.

Taran didn’t say anything, but I saw his own gaze flicker to the floor, and then back to me. I couldn’t help but notice the faint flush on his cheeks, how his breath was still a little uneven. The effect I’d had on him was clear.

As Mabel left, I caught her smirk again, knowing she was keeping her own counsel. I turned back to Taran, heart still pounding, and the air between us felt thick with unspoken words.

“Guess we need to talk,” I murmured. My voice felt low, thick with the weight of everything I hadn’t said yet.

Taran nodded, but I caught a new openness in him, a lightness like he’d finally put down a weight he’d carried too long. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I could swear I saw relief flicker across his face, like he’d been wondering—just as I had—if I felt the same, if we’d ever reach this moment.

As I dusted flour from my hands, Taran stepped closer. “You, uh… still have some here,” he murmured, reaching to brush a light dusting from my shoulder. His fingers lingered a second longer than necessary.

Without thinking, I caught his hand, my thumb grazing across his knuckles. The warmth of his skin, the quiet between us, except for the thump of my pulse—we’d crossed a line neither of us could uncross.

He looked up, his eyes meeting mine with something almost searching, like he was trying to read what lay beneath the surface. My chest tightened. His fingers were warm against mine, and I felt rooted in place, as if letting go would break something fragile between us.

Taran’s breath hitched, and neither of us moved, the space between us charged with something we’d both kept buried for too long.

As he pulled his hand away, our fingers slid apart reluctantly, like neither of us was quite ready to let go. And as I watched him turn back to his work, I knew one thing with startling clarity: later couldn’t come soon enough.

CHAPTER 13

TARAN

I can’t believe he kissed me!

Wynter. Kissed. Me.

And I can still taste sweet chocolate on his suckable lips. Feel the warm breath on my cheek.

Being that close, breathing him in, was fucking incredible.

Man, kissing him was amazing!

It felt like I’d waited my whole life for that kiss. That off-limits boy with the broad shoulders and killer smile. I never thought it would have been more than a dream. That kiss felt real in a way nothing had since…

And just like that, every single wall I’d put up around this—around him—came crashing down. I’d thought those feelings were buried, impossible to resurrect. But there he was, the first boy I’d ever fallen for, the boy I thought I could never have. And now, somehow, he was looking at me like he might have been waiting, too.

But right there, in the middle of Mabel’s, it hadn’t been the time or place to talk. It had taken everything in me to keep working, to focus on the orders that still needed finishing, the tables that needed cleaning, when my mind was spinning. I’dcaught his eye one last time as he left, and in that look, we shared a silent promise.Later.We’d talk, and everything we couldn’t say in the bakery would have its moment.

And now here we were, Wynter, Rory and I, crunching through the snow on our way to pick the perfect Christmas tree, breathing in the scent of pine and fresh air, and all I could think about was how right it felt to be by his side. Rory darted ahead, weaving between the snow-dusted trees, tossing out his thoughts on each one without pausing for a response.

I could still feel the ghost of Wynter’s kiss, and every brush of his arm felt like a whisper of that memory, a memory I wasn’t ready to let go of. And I wondered how much longer I’d have to wait before we found a chance to talk, to share what had changed between us.

God, I can’t stop thinking about him.

Wynter met my eyes and we both smiled, quietly entertained by Rory’s running commentary. “Do you think he’s gonna find the perfect one?” he asked, keeping his voice low, as if we were sharing a secret.

“If I know him, he’ll change his mind at least a dozen more times,” I chuckled, leaning in just slightly.

"How about this one?" my son yelled, pointing to a tall, skinny fir. “It’s kinda lopsided… but it’s cool-looking!”

Rory was already ten paces ahead.

Smiling, I murmured, “Every year, he grows faster than the trees do. Can hardly keep up with him.”

Wynter chuckled softly, glancing at Rory as he bounded ahead. The easy joy of the moment seemed to settle around us like the quiet snow, reminding us both of how close Christmas really was.