Page 25 of Mountain Man in my Stockings
Chapter Five
Eve
Idrove back to the cabin with Deacon's goodbye kiss still warm on my lips. Through the windshield, morning sun turned the snow-covered pines into something out of a postcard, and I couldn't stop smiling.
Inside, I dropped onto the couch and stared at the tree we'd decorated together. The white lights twinkled, the handmade ornaments from the holiday market caught the morning light, and that lopsided star on top made my chest feel too full.
I'd known this man four days, and my brain was already imagining what it would be like to wake up beside him every morning instead of just once.
"Slow down," I muttered, but I couldn't stop grinning like an idiot.
My laptop sat on the coffee table where I'd left it yesterday, and I opened it. Time to actually deliver on my promise to help promote the Christmas Eve party at Promises, Promises. I'd offered because it felt good to use my skills for something that mattered, something that wasn't just about selling products or pushing brand partnerships.
I pulled up the bar & grill’s pathetic excuse for a social media presence. The Facebook page hadn't been updated since June, and the Instagram account had exactly twelve posts—all blurry photos of food that looked like they'd been taken on a flip phone.
"Oh, Deacon," I said to the empty cabin. "We need to have a talk about your digital strategy."
I got to work, and the familiar rhythm felt good. Not the exhausting performance of my personal accounts, but the creative satisfaction of building something. I designed graphics using free stock images—snow-covered mountains, rustic wooden tables with craft beer, twinkling lights. Simple but eye-catching.
For the Facebook event, I wrote: "Join Promise Ridge's Annual Christmas Eve Bash at Promises, Promises Bar & Grill! Live music, holiday cocktails, and the legendary Stocking Pull Championship. Winner gets free drinks for an entire year. December 24th, 6 PM. All are welcome!"
Instagram needed something punchier. I mocked up a story graphic with pine branches framing text: "Think you're brave enough for the Stocking Pull? Pull a dare, complete the challenge, win the prize. Christmas Eve at Promises, Promises—where we keep our promises even if you break yours. ????"
I scheduled posts across platforms, created shareable graphics for the local Facebook groups, even designed a simple flyer that could be printed and posted around town. My fingers flew across the keyboard, adrenaline building with each post I queued up. This wasn't work—this was fun. Creating buzz for something I actually believed in instead of another sponsored post about the newest sneaker trend or figure-flattering yoga pants.
The realization crept up on me slowly. I'd been working on this promotion, checking the posts, engaging with comments from excited locals. But I hadn't once thought about posting a selfie. Hadn't staged a single moment. Hadn't worried about whether my outfit was Instagram-worthy or if the lighting was good enough.
When was the last time I'd been this present? This focused on the moment instead of how to capture it?
With Hayden, practically everything had been designed for public consumption right from the beginning. Our first date—sixteen photos before we selected the right one to post to our respective accounts. Our engagement announcement—twelve takes to get the lighting just right on my ring. Even our kisses had been posed, him pressing his lips to my temple while I gazed adoringly at the camera.
Last night with Deacon, I hadn't thought about camera angles once. I'd just felt everything—his hands on my skin, his mouth on mine, the delicious weight of him between my thighs. Nothing fake. Just us.
My phone buzzed. A text from Deacon:This is incredible. You're a wizard. See you tonight?
I smiled.Wouldn't miss it.
Good. I've got a stocking with your name on it.
My stomach tightened as I remembered exactly what he'd done to me last night.Promises, promises.
Always keep mine, baby.
I spent the rest of the afternoon fine-tuning the promotional campaign, watching the engagement roll in from people excited about the bash. Mrs. Kovacs from the general store commented with about fifteen exclamation points. Local business owners shared the event. Even people I didn't know were tagging friends, making plans.
