Page 19 of Never Sleigh Never

As I turn and stride back across the street, my boots feel heavier with each step, as if I’m trudging through thigh-high snow instead of sun-warmed asphalt.

Inside the hardware store, it suddenly feels hotter than a desert, but the temperature does nothing to thaw the ice forming around my heart. I lean against the counter, squeezing my eyes shut.

“You okay, boss?” Brad’s concerned voice cuts through the fog of my thoughts.

I straighten up, forcing my features into what I hope is a neutral expression. “Yeah, fine. Where were we on that inventory?”

As I throw myself back into work, I try to convince myself this is for the best. Cara and I come from different worlds. Shedeserves someone who can give her the kind of life she wants, all glitter and glamor. Not someone like me, with dirt under his nails and grease stains on his jeans.

But as I mindlessly count boxes of screws, all I can think about is everything I've learned about Cara as I've gotten to know her. Sure, there's the physical attraction—the velvety softness of her skin, the way she fits perfectly in my arms. But it's so much more than that.

It's her unwavering enthusiasm and determination, the way she pours her heart into everything she does. I've watched her work tirelessly on this festival, her emerald eyes sparkling with passion as she shared her vision. Her commitment to bringing joy to our community is infectious.

Then there's her kindness, the way she interacts with everyone in town. She has a gift for making people feel seen and appreciated, always ready with a warm smile or a thoughtful word. And I can't help but admire her creativity and attention to detail. She sees possibilities where I see obstacles.

And hell, her laughter. Warm and bright as the twinkling lights on Main Street, it's a sound that makes everything feel right in the world. Even when we disagree, there's a playfulness in her eyes that tells me she enjoys our banter as much as I do. But what really gets me is her strength. Despite the setbacks and challenges, Cara never gives up. She faces each problem head-on with a grace and resilience that leaves me in awe. This woman is a force of nature, and I want to be caught up in her whirlwind.

I shake my head, trying to dislodge the memories. It doesn’t matter now. Cara’s sworn off men, and even if she hadn’t, I’m not the kind of guy she’d choose in the end. Better to focus on what I can control, like making sure this damn festival goes off without a hitch.

Still, as I glance out the window and glimpse Cara disappearing into her boutique while the BMW screams off down the street, a dull ache settles in my chest.

Cara

The twinkling lights strungback and forth across Main Street cast a warm glow over the festival crowd. It may never snow in Magnolia Point, but tonight sure feels like a winter wonderland. My vision has come to life, and it’s picture perfect. Thanks to Thomas. Too bad a snapshot of this moment won’t tell the entire story.

The aroma of hot chocolate and freshly roasted pecans, along with joyful laughter and the cheerful strains ofJingle Bell Rockfill the air as families bustle from booth to booth, their faces alight.

I can check the box for resurrecting the Main Street Holiday Festival off my to-do list. I should be ecstatic, basking in the glow of success. My goal to bring some good, old-fashioned holiday cheer to our town has been achieved. But rather than full, my heart feels heavier than Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve.

“Thank you so much for bringing back the festival, Cara,” Mrs. Henderson gushes, squeezing my arm as she shuffles by. “It’s just like I remember from years ago.”

I force a smile, murmuring my thanks, but my gaze is drawn across the street to where Thomas stands, surrounded by a group of children at the craft booth outside the hardware store. Brad and some other guys from the store are busy helping kids create ornaments from little wooden cutouts, using paint and an assortment of nuts and bolts. The sight of Thomas, his flannel sleeves rolled up to reveal those powerful forearms, patiently helping a little girl as she paints, makes my chest ache.

All week, my co-chair has been professional, touching base via text about last-minute festival details. And nothing more. Not a peep about what happened on Monday morning. Or Sunday night. The easy camaraderie we’d developed, the stolen glances and lingering touches, evaporated like snowflakes on a rosy cheek. And it’s all my fault.

As the little girl runs off with a friend, Thomas, with his hands on his hips, looks around. I slip back a step, out of view, to watch as he surveys the crowd. He appears to be searching for something. Or someone.

Surely not me. He’s avoided me like the plague. And I don’t blame him for the hollow ache that bloomed beneath my ribs five days ago and has only grown.

“There you are!” Gabby’s voice cuts through my thoughts. She appears at my side, cheeks flushed. “Phillip and Mia have the photo booth under control, so I thought I’d come find you.” Her expression softens as she takes in my face. “Oh, honey. What’s wrong?”

I shake my head, forcing another smile. “Nothing. The festival’s an enormous success. Holiday cheer and all, right?”

Gabby loops her arm through mine, guiding me away from the busy thoroughfare to a quieter spot on a bench near the giant Christmas tree. “Come on, Cara. I know you better than that. This is about Thomas, isn’t it?”

The lump in my throat threatens to choke me as I nod. “I really screwed up. I’d love to blame Wayne for showing up out of the blue and causing issues, but…it’s my fault.”

“How is it your fault?”

“I broke my own vow. I swore off men, and then days later, I fell for the very next guy to step up and help me. And then I let him think he was just a rebound.” I blink back tears, not wanting to ruin my mascara.

Gabby’s grip on my arm tightens. “Thomas wasn’t just a rebound, though, was he?”

I’ve given this question more thought over the past few days than I care to admit. It’s not just Thomas’s physical attributes that have captured my heart, though the memory of his strong, calloused hands on my skin still sends shivers down my spine. It’s the way he carries himself, steadfast and as dependable as an old oak tree. It’s his loyalty to this town, the way he shows up without fail, not just for me, but for everyone who needs him.

It’s that rare, genuine smile that makes his rich brown eyes crinkle at the corners. And the gruff exterior that hides a heart of gold, always ready to lend a helping hand or offer a word of encouragement. The quiet strength, and the way helistens intently, really hearing what I’m saying and responding thoughtfully.

And then there’s the way he looked at me that night he came over, as if I was the only woman in the world. As if I’m beautiful even in flannel reindeer-covered pajamas. And the feeling of his arms around me, so protective and comfortable and…perfect. I’ve never felt anything like it.