Page 25 of Christmas at Pine Ridge Inn
“Not bad,” he murmured during a pause between verses.
“You too. You lied about the building-clearing thing.”
“Maybe I just needed the right singing partner.”
The comment, delivered with a small smile, made her stomach do a little flip. Was Brady Hanson actually charming behind those walls of his?
They moved through several more carols, their voices growing stronger and more confident as a group. During “Let it Snow,” Brady caught her eye during the line about “the fire is slowly dying,” and raised his eyebrows meaningfully toward the inn in the distance, where smoke was indeed rising from the chimney. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
“You’re taking this very literally,” she whispered.
“I’m providing visual aids. It’s educational.” He flashed that smile again that threatened to buckle her knees.
Between songs, Lila watched Brady interact with the other carolers. He helped Mrs. Patterson, an elderly woman from town, adjust her scarf when the wind picked up. When a small boy tugged on his coat, Brady immediately crouched down to the child’s eye level.
“Mr. Brady,” the boy said, his words slightly muffled by his winter hat, “my mom says you know where Santa keeps his reindeer.”
“Well,” Brady said seriously, “that’s classified information. But I might know someone who could arrange a special viewing.” He glanced toward the boy’s mother, who was watching with obvious affection. “If it’s okay with your mom, you and I could take a walk tomorrow to see if we can spot any reindeer tracks in the snow behind the inn.”
The child’s eyes went wide with excitement. “Really?”
“Really. But it has to be early, before they fly back to the North Pole for their afternoon nap. They’ve got a big job to do tomorrow night.”
Lila heart swelled as she watched Brady make promises to a little boy about imaginary reindeer tracks. The man who’d been so resistant to her suggestions about coffee machineswas currently volunteering to wake up early on Christmas Eve morning to preserve a child’s belief in magic. She’d been as wrong about him as he’d been about her.
“You’re really something,” she said quietly when Brady stood up.
“What do you mean?”
“That was incredibly sweet.”
Brady’s cheeks, already pink from the cold, seemed to redden further. “Kids should get to believe in magic, especially at Christmas.”
Before Lila could respond, Carol was calling for their attention again. “All right, carolers, time for our grand finale. ‘O Holy Night,’ and then we’ll head over to the tree lighting ceremony.”
As the familiar melody began, Lila found herself standing closer to Brady than strictly necessary. His voice, rich and warm, seemed to wrap around hers as they sang together. When they reached the soaring high notes of “fall on your knees,” she was surprised by the strength and beauty of his voice joining with the group.
“You really can sing,” she said when the song ended to scattered applause from passersby.
“Only when properly motivated.”
“What motivates you?”
Brady looked down at her, his green eyes serious despite the smile playing at his lips. “Good company.”
The simple answer, delivered with quiet sincerity, made her breath catch. She didn’t have time to be distracted from her mission in Pine Ridge, but Brady didn’t feel strictly like a distraction. He was beginning to feel like an anchor. Like a safe harbor in uncertain winds.
The caroling group began dispersing, some heading home and others moving toward the town square where the tree lightingceremony would begin shortly. Brady offered Lila his arm as they walked across the snowy street.
“Careful,” he said, “it’s getting slippery.”
The gesture felt both practical and intimate, and Lila found herself enjoying the solid strength of his arm beneath her hand. They joined the growing crowd around the tall Christmas tree that dominated the town square, its dark branches outlined against the evening sky.
“How long have they been doing the tree lighting?” Lila asked as they found a spot with a good view.
“As long as I can remember. My parents used to bring me when I was little.” Brady’s voice grew softer. “It was always the highlight of Christmas for me, standing here with the whole town, watching the tree come to life.”
“It must be bittersweet now, without them.”
