Page 9 of The White Chocolate Christmas Wish

She rolled her eyes, but I caught the hint of a smile. “The perfect tree, huh? Aren’t they all kinda… the same?”

I gasped in mock offense. “Uh, no. Bite your tongue. But don’t worry, I have an eye for the most majestic of pines. It’s a gift, really.”

“I trust you.”

“Good. You should.” It was meant as a teasing comment… and yet, I wasn’t kidding. She should trust me. Not just with the tree—though it would be perfect, I’d see to that—but with this whole Christmas experience.

And with her heart, too, if I played my cards right.

It was no secret I had it bad for Hope. It’d been thatway since the day we met, and it’d only gotten worse in the time since. And when she’d called me over to help her with whatever was in the fireplace, never in a million years had I expected it to turn into a reason to spend this much time with her.

I couldn’t be more grateful.

As we wandered through the rows of trees, I waved to familiar faces. Shifty tipped his hat, and Mrs. McClusky—who had become a regular customer with her wacky needs for a PI that I still couldn’t wrap my head around—called out a cheery hello. It struck me how quickly this town had wormed its way into my heart.

Apparently, Hope was just as surprised as I was. “You’re really gettin’ to know people around here, aren’t you?”

“Told you I wanted to stick around. Seems only natural, right?”

She grinned, and then, as we walked, I found myself watching Hope more than the trees. The way her eyes lit up when she spotted a particularly quirky branch, how she’d reach out to touch the needles, lost in thought.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

She hesitated, then said softly, “I remember the tree at my grandparents’ house being huge when I was little. I don’t know if it was the ‘perfect tree,’ but definitely the biggest.”

I saw the flicker of sadness in her eyes and felt an overwhelming urge to chase it away. “Well then,” I said, striking a heroic pose in the cheesiest way possible, “that’s our mission for the day: the biggest tree.”

I was so caught up in watching her, the way her eyes lit up as she inspected each tree, that I almost missed it. There, hanging from a branch just above our heads, was a small sprig of mistletoe.

It was a sign.

This was my moment.

“Hey, Hope,” I said, my voice coming out a bit rougher than I intended. “Look up.”

She tilted her head back, her eyes widening as she spotted the mistletoe. Time seemed to slow as her gaze met mine, a mix of surprise and something else—anticipation, maybe?—flickering across her face.

Or wait… was that confusion?

Surely, she knew the point of mistletoe was an excuse to kiss, right? It wasn’t like avoiding Christmas meant she could avoid that tidbit of well-known logic.

Before I could overthink it, I stepped closer, cupping her cheek gently with one hand. “This wasn’t on the list, but it probably should’ve been.”

Hope’s lips parted slightly, and I took that as my cue. I leaned in, pressing my lips to hers in a soft, tentative kiss.

The world around us vanished in a blink—the chattering families, the scent of pine,poof.Everything disappeared except for the feel of Hope’s soft lips against mine and the warmth of her body as she leaned into me. It was like coming home. There was no other way to describe it, and I knew without a doubt I’d never felt it before.

When we finally pulled apart, my heart was racing. I searched Hope’s face, trying to gauge her reaction. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide and sparkling. For a moment, neither of us spoke, the weight of what had just happened hanging between us.

“Wow,” I finally managed, a grin spreading across my face. “That was...”

“Unexpected,” Hope finished, but she was smiling too, a shy, pleased expression that made my heart soar.

Did she feel that? The spark, and the sense that something significant had just shifted between us? The kiss had been brief, sure, but it left me reeling, wanting more. And if she were willing, I’d make it happen again and again, preferably without the excuse of mistletoe.

“Good, unexpected?” I asked.

Hope nodded, her smile growing. “Definitely good.”

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