Page 5 of Puck Me for Christmas

He exhaled, his cold breath forming tiny clouds on the air. “Only one season. I was hired for the holiday rush. But I…I stayed later last night to prepare for a special dinner. Got trapped by the storm.” He fumbled with the strap of my bag, clearly nervous. “Holly Joy is…she’s so cheerful. She makes everything feel hopeful. But I…” He paused, clearing his throat, “let’s just say that social skills are not my forte. There’s a reason I stick to the kitchen. I’m not sure what to think or do around Holly Joy. She’s always busy, always shining, and I’m just a cook, you know? You seem very nice, and smart, and I was wondering if I could get your opinion…since you’re also a woman.”

Ah. There it was. Dante had a crush on the concierge. Something about his earnest worry made me soften. “Dante, you’re talented, kind, and clearly care about what you do. That counts for a lot.” I tried to sound encouraging, despite my own emotional turmoil. “If you want to tell her how you feel, just do it. Life’s short, and it’s Christmas. We’re stuck here anyway…perfect chance, right?” My own advice pricked at my heart. If only I followed it myself. If only I could talk to Logan as openly as I urged Dante to talk to Holly Joy.

He perked up a little at my words. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll think it over some more.”

I nodded. “That sounds like a good plan. Just don’t wait until it’s too late.”

Dante nodded, and we stood together in the swirling snow while I captured a few more shots. The sound of distant laughter made us both turn. A group emerged from the chalet’s side door—Holly Joy, Celestia Moon, Pearl and Norman, Sasha, dressed in the tightest snowsuit I’d ever seen, Raul glancing at his watch, Jenna and Tyrese holding hands. And behind them, Logan,broad-shouldered in a dark coat, scanning the wide expanse behind the chalet with narrowed eyes.

My stomach fluttered. I immediately pretended to focus on my camera, adjusting angles as if the falling snow were the most fascinating subject ever. Dante shifted uncomfortably beside me.

Holly Joy’s cheerful voice carried: “Gather round, everyone! We’ve got our next activity lined up…a snowball tournament!” She clapped her bubblegum-pink mittened hands. “We’ll stick to the same teams as before. We’re doing a bracket-style snowball fight. Winners advance until we have a champion!”

A snowball fight. Seriously? I swallowed a groan. This had disaster written all over it. But judging by the nods and murmurs, no one was refusing. Some even looked excited. Sasha hopped in place, as if warming up for a workout. She caught Logan’s arm and said something that made him grimace. Emberleigh, calm down, I told myself. Breathe.

“Same teams,” Dante echoed quietly. “That means you and I, right?”

“Right,” I muttered. Great. At least I had Dante, even if he spent half the time mooning over Holly Joy.

Celestia stepped forward, robes tucked into a warm coat, hair braided with a sprig of mistletoe. “We’ll draw lines in the snow to mark the battlefield. Each round is timed. Make as many hits as you can. Most hits advance. Keep it playful, everyone! Your spirit guides are watching!”

Easier said than done. The instant our teams were assigned places, I noticed Sasha sidling up to Logan, whispering strategy and batting her fake lashes. Logan stood stiffly, armscrossed, jaw tight. Good. Maybe he wasn’t enjoying this as much as I feared. But that didn’t ease the knot in my chest.

Dante cleared his throat, pulling me aside as we crouched behind a snowbank. “I’m not much of an athlete,” he confessed. “But I’ll try.”

I mustered a smile. “Just focus on gathering snow. Make small, firm balls. Hand them to me. I’ll do the throwing.”

He nodded, grateful to have a simple task. Meanwhile, I peeked over the edge of our makeshift fort. Logan and Sasha crouched across the courtyard. Sasha adjusted her phone on a small tripod, determined to capture every angle. Logan rolled a snowball between gloved palms, scanning the field like a general before battle.

My heart hammered. I wanted to show Logan I wasn’t someone to dismiss. Two could play this game. I’d out-snowball him, show him I could handle myself perfectly fine, and that his presence didn’t rattle me one whit. Or else I’d vent my frustration by nailing him square in the shoulder.

Holly Joy’s whistle shrilled. “Go!”

Chaos erupted. Snowballs flew in white arcs. Jenna squealed as Tyrese shouted encouragement. Pearl and Norman argued over technique. Raul ducked behind a tree. Celestia danced gracefully, chanting something unintelligible, and somehow dodged every projectile.

I gritted my teeth and aimed carefully. My first throw at Logan missed by inches. He smirked—smirked!—and lobbed one back at me, grazing my arm. I huffed, annoyed, and fired another. This time I hit his coat. Sasha cheered theatrically, “We’ll get you next time!” Her shrill voice grated my ears.

Dante passed me another snowball, but his eyes drifted to Holly Joy, and he sighed dreamily. “Dante,” I hissed, “focus!” He snapped to attention, hastily shoveling more snow.

Logan hurled a shot that nearly caught me off-guard. I ducked, heart pounding, and retaliated with a quick flurry of throws. One skimmed Sasha’s hip, making her yelp. She tried to film and dodge simultaneously, complaining loudly that she couldn’t get a stable shot if we kept hitting her. I felt a surge of wicked satisfaction.

Logan shouted something at Sasha—probably telling her to pay attention. Emboldened, I stood up from behind the snowbank and hurled a perfect curveball. It whizzed across the courtyard and struck Logan on the shoulder. He jerked, eyes narrowing, then grinned in a way that made my stomach flip. He liked the challenge all right.

We locked gazes across the snowy expanse. Something crackled in that distance like a fire that refused to be put out. The zing of electricity between us felt sharpened, fueled by adrenaline, and my pulse quickened.

I scooped another snowball, ignoring the chill numbing my fingers. Sasha’s shrieks faded into background noise. The world narrowed to me and Logan, trading hits, ducking, weaving. Snowflakes clung to my hair, and my breath came quickly. I felt alive, furious, and strangely exhilarated.

Dante tried to keep up, handing me ammunition with shaking hands. I managed a few glancing hits on Logan, but he scored on me too, white powder exploding against my sleeve. My heart thumped at the playful malice in his grin. Damn him for making this fun.

Time blurred. Holly Joy’s whistle signaled round changes, and teams shifted opponents, but eventually, it came down toa final match—us against Logan and Sasha. Dante muttered apologies every time he fumbled a snowball. I patted his arm once, trying to reassure him. “We’ve done fine. Just keep at it.”

My throws became more aggressive, snapping through the air. One sailed too high, missing Logan entirely and careening into a pine tree behind him. Snow showered down, and in the confusion, I rushed forward, determined to get a closer shot. Bad move.

Logan, ducking another snowball, lunged sideways at the same moment I stepped out of cover. I tried to pivot, but my boot slipped on a patch of ice. With a startled yelp, I tumbled forward. Logan, reacting on instinct, grabbed for me. Our combined momentum sent us both skidding away from the group, stumbling behind a cluster of evergreens weighed down by snow.

My heart leapt into my throat. The sounds of laughter and shouts dimmed, muffled by branches and drifts. We crashed together, rolling in a flurry of white powder down a short embankment until we came to rest behind the largest pine, hidden from view. I gasped for air, blinking snow from my lashes.

Logan’s body lay half on top of me, his breath ragged. The frigid mountain air filled my lungs. My pulse was wild. We were alone, our teams and their antics out of sight. Just the two of us, tangled.

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