Page 74 of The Bratva's Christmas Bump
I smirk and stick out my tongue. “You did say you give them hope and then threaten that, so… you’re coming with me.”
“Alright.” Maxim chuckles as he opens the door. “I’ll come to the fair with you.”
26
MAXIM
“Isn’t this just one of the most beautiful places you’ve ever seen?”
A few miles from her parents’ place, Hollie stands in front of me smiling from ear to ear and splaying her arms out underneath the swirling wooden sign welcoming everyone to the Christmas fair. Just beyond her are countless stalls filled with an array of Christmas-themed goodies, with a sea of people moving between each one like the rising swell of the tide. Three days ago, I agreed to come with her, and she made sure I kept my promise.
“What exactly do we do here?” I ask, closing the gap and stepping into Hollie’s space.
She stares up at me with a frown. “Damn, you weren’t kidding. You really haven’t ever been to a Christmas fair before?”
“I really haven’t.”
Her lips purse, then her gloved hand slides into mine and she pulls me under the sign. “You don’t reallydoanything but experience it. You breathe so deeply that the cold invades yourlungs and stays there, you admire everyone’s handiwork and spend more money than you can afford on pretty items and good food, and then everything you buy ends up on the Christmas tree which, by the way…” She turns and walks backward while still leading me. “I searched that entire penthouse and didn’t find a single tree, so we should pick one.”
“I can buy a tree from here?”
“Of course! There should be a stall at the far end where you can purchase a ticket that will let you go and look at the trees.”
“Hold on, I need to buy a ticket in order to look at the trees I might want to buy?”
“Mhm.”
“Sounds like a scam.”
Her eyes narrow and she turns back around. “You’re only saying that because you can’t fathom doing nice things for people.”
She’s got me there.
Hand in hand, we merge with the crowd and wander between the stalls while Toto, Stu, and the rest of my security team melt in like they belong here. There are a thousand important things I should be doing for the family right now, but none of them rise above spending time with Hollie.
She’s warming to me in ways I can only dream about, and part of me watches her with slight anticipation that this is part of some ploy, but a larger part of me simply enjoys it. We pass an array of stalls carrying all sorts of items and treasures I never would have given a second glance if not for the way her face lights up.
She spends ten minutes talking to a woman who hand-weaves her own garlands, then buys a bunch and demands I put them up on all the doors. At another stall, she studies and pores over handmade jewelry created by an elderly man swathed in more layers than I can count. The wooden bracelets look carved from scratch and the beaded necklaces sparkle even more than the ring on Hollie’s finger. The love and care poured into these crafts speak wonders.
I purchase both a bracelet and a necklace, and then three wooden bird brooches for my team.
The next stall sells mulled wine served in tiny cups and the sweet, berry warmth seeps right down to my frozen toes on the first sip. Hollie passes and orders a hot orange instead, reminding me faintly of the childhood drink my mother would give me when I was sick.
After that pit stop, we continue wandering. Snow gathers in the air, but under the haze of lanterns lighting the way through the fair, it never quite seems to touch the ground. Even the cold December air is kept at bay by the crowd moving around us, but Hollie’s hand permanently in mine is what warms me the most. The next stall sells wax artwork of various festive scenes, from the Nativity to falling stars, sheep, and Santa getting arrested. Toto’s laughter reaches my ears from somewhere in the crowd at the sight and on our next loop past that stall, that particular painting has been purchased.
Several food stalls are the source of the sugary sweetness drifting through the air. They sell everything from meats and cheeses to Christmas cakes, puddings, and gingerbread men. Hollie purchases one and snaps the leg off, offering it to me while her lips seal around the head.
“I only get a leg?”
Hollie nods. “You’re lucky you’re getting anything. I love these things.”
“Noted.” Leaning down, I gently bite the gingerbread and take it from her gloved fingers.
Her eyes reflect the countless lights streaming above us between each stall, and I swear the pink flush on her cheeks darkens. Crunching the cookie, our eyes remained locked until a swell in the crowd spikes my protectiveness and I draw her closer to me.
“Where to next?”
She eats happily and looks around while stretching on her tiptoes, then points in one direction. “The trees should be down there, although we passed a ceramic stall that had a bowl my mom would love.” She seems torn so I squeeze her hand.
