Page 22 of Storybook Christmas

We both tiptoe closer, and the eyes turn into a face with pointy ears. I’m waiting for it to gallop away, but it doesn’t. “Hi, baby,” I whisper.

It blinks but doesn’t move. It’s staring at us, and it stays steady as we inch forward.

“I can’t believe it’s still there,” I whisper to Finn.

“Yeah, but we shouldn’t get any closer.”

“Right.”

So, we stay where we are—watching, waiting for the mother to show up. Sure enough, a larger deer appears at her baby’s side, staring at us. We don’t move because we don’t want to scare them or accidentally cause them harm.

The mother’s ears twitch, but she appears calm as she watches us. Then she seems to relax more as she sniffs her baby.

“I can’t believe she’s so calm,” I say.

“I’m not sure why, but animals love me.”

I look at him to see his teasing grin, but it’s not there. He shrugs. “I’m serious. I don’t know what it is.”

I think back to the handful of times he’s cheered me up in the short time I’ve known him. “You have this calming presence. I get it.”

“Thanks.” A shy smile takes over his face, and I’m amazed how someone so hot can also be so boyishly cute, too.

When the fawn and mother deer wander away, we continue our walk through the quiet streets of downtown Buckhead—the Beverly Hills of Atlanta—chatting it up like old friends.

When we arrive at our destination—the gigantic Christmas tree in Lenox Square—we stand in awe at it. It towers above us with a million twinkling lights of every color illuminating the night sky.

After a quiet moment, Finn says, “I read about this inBuckhead Lifestyle Magazine. It said that this tree’s over fifty feet tall. There’s eight miles of lights strung on it.”

“That’s a crap ton of lights.” I love how Finn’s full of random factoids.

His brow quirks. “Can you imagine the ball they have to untwine each year?”

I laugh, and Finn joins me, which makes me laugh harder because his is so contagious.

When he goes quiet again, I shift my eyes from the tree to him. He’s studying me, so I say, “What?”

“You have snowflakes on your eyelashes. Like a hot winter fairy.” He puts up his palm. “Who’s also tough as nails.”

“The Snow Huntress.” My breath plumes in the air.

It seems the temperature’s dropped since we left, because I’m shivering. Finn puts his arm around me and rubs my shoulders. It’s nice.

Reallynice.

He looks back at the tree. “Pretty cool. I’ve never had this.”

“A fifty-foot-tall Christmas tree?”

“A Christmas tree.”

I pull away because now it’s my turn to study Finn. His face is serious, but peaceful, and my voice is soft when I say, “Why?”

He sighs. “My grams—she’s the ultra-practical type. At least that’s the reason she told me. I think the real reason is because she didn’t want to do the traditional holiday things that emphasize the fact that there was just the two of us. She decided we’d do as the Jews—have eight days of presents instead of one big day, then eat Chinese food on Christmas.”

“Did you like it that way?”

His lips quirk up, a wistful look in his eyes. “I loved it that way.”

---