Page 16 of A Holly Jolly Mix Up (Sweet Christmas Kisses #12)

Jane

“Wonderful,” I mutter angrily as I hang up the phone, with a dramatic press of the red button.

“That doesn’t sound good.” Mom’s big eyes look in my direction.

After surveying the bookstore and confirming that everything else was in its place, I went home and attempted to get some sleep. There wasn’t anything I could do at that time, and I knew once they released it back to me, I’d need to start damage control.

The display by the window is destroyed. The books, the shelf, the décor, they were all soaked from the snow.

We’re still checking on everything else, but overall, we came out pretty lucky, which isn’t the case for all of the shops.

Now that it’s no longer a crime scene (even though it still looks like one), Mom, Dad, Nonna, and I are here cleaning up.

“What did they say?” Mom asks .

“Well, looks like no one can replace the window until after the new year so the plywood will be part of our décor for Christmas.” I sigh heavily. “I knew it was a long shot, since some of the other shops haven’t been fixed either but I was hoping.”

“Chin up, buttercup, we’ll come up with something.” Dad rests his hand on my shoulder and smiles.

“Maybe we could cover it with some Christmas wrapping paper? Or put up a big wreath?” Nonna suggests, her hands on her hips as she surveys the plywood monstrosity.

A laugh escapes me at the thought of such a large, garish decoration covering the storefront. “Might as well hang a giant red nose and antlers on it and call it Rudolph.”

“Well, since we’re out of reindeer, why don’t we make it into something meaningful?” Mom’s eyes light up with the spark of an idea. “We could paint it white and let everyone in town draw or write what Christmas means to them.”

“And not just ours, we can do it for all the shops around town whose windows aren’t fixed yet,” I suggest further.

Dad claps his hands together. “Those are my girls! Always thinking of others!”

Nonna moves closer to me, her eyes bright with excitement. “Christmas is about community, after all. ”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Mom chips in, her eyes sparkling with pride. “Do you have any leftover paint supplies from the faux fireplace?”

“Yes, we should have enough.”

“And I’ll get the word out.” Dad pulls out his phone, already typing away at a rapid speed.

Nonna nods approvingly. “I’ll make some hot chocolate to keep everyone warm while they’re waiting their turn.”

It’s just the kind of friendly, community-based idea that Oakridge Hollow is always up for.

That’s how I ended up standing at the front of our shop, a chilly breeze wafting through the main street as we finish painting the plywood windows a crisp white.

As I step back, paintbrush in hand, to admire the blank canvas we’ve created, I can’t help but feel a sense of hope.

And tomorrow, the town will add their personal touches.

“Can’t wait to see what the townsfolk come up with.” Andrew approaches from behind, his voice warm like a cup of hot chocolate.

Turning around, I find myself face to face with him. Dark hair tousled as if he ran his fingers through it one too many times and eyes twinkling under the streetlights. He’s holding two cups, steam curling up from the surface, the sweet scent wafting in the cold air.

“For you.” He hands me a cup .

I take it gratefully, wrapping my frozen fingers around the warm surface. “Thanks.”

“Couldn’t have you freezing on me, now, could I?” His grin is lopsided, and I can’t help but return it.

“Not right before I save Christmas for the whole town.” I put my hands on my hips.

He chuckles, a low sound that sends warmth curling through me. “The town’s hero.”

I roll my eyes and take a sip of the hot chocolate, basking in the heat that spreads down my throat and into my belly. “Not all heroes wear badges, Detective Harrington.”

“Some do, however, wield paintbrushes.” Andrew grins back at me, his brown eyes sparkling with mirth under the streetlight. He takes a sip from his cup, a content sigh escaping him.

“Are you free tonight?”

“I’m free for a few hours.” He looks around then whispers, “Then I have my own saving-the-town to do.” He winks.

“Oh, new lead?” I ask.

“That is on a need-to-know basis.” He boops my nose.

“Yes, and I need to know. Once a journalist, always a journalist.”

“You should hear some good news tomorrow, but in the meantime, what did you have in mind for tonight? ”

“Meet me at my house in thirty minutes. I need to wash this paint out of my hair.” I grin as he nods.

“See you soon.”

With a final wave, I turn to head back to my parents’ house, my heart pounding in anticipation. As I walk away, I glance back to see Andrew still standing there, looking after me with a smile lingering on his lips.

By the time Andrew arrives at my doorstep, I’m ready. Opening the door, I see him standing there with a wide grin on his face.

“I hope you like cookies,” I say, my voice filled with a delight that I can’t quite suppress.

“Depends on the cookie,” he replies, his brown eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Okay, Mr. Picky. You’re in luck then because we’re making a variety.” I lead him into the kitchen, where I’ve laid out the ingredients for an array of cookies: chocolate chip, gingerbread, and sugar cookies.

“Are we feeding an army?”

“Pretty much. You mentioned it was a Christmas tradition with your mom.”

He nods, a soft smile tugs on his lips. “Yeah, it was. We would make batches and batches of cookies. My mom loved to give them out as gifts. ”

“Perfect. I didn’t know what kind you two would make so I planned on a variety, and we can hand them out while everyone’s painting the shop windows.”

“That’s a wonderful idea, Jane,” he says, his brown eyes softening even more. “My mom would have loved that.”

“Then let’s do her proud,” I say, a determined smile on my face.

“In the spirit of Christmas, I like it. Let’s get started, then.” Andrew’s grin is infectious, and we dive into baking with an enthusiasm that fills the kitchen with laughter and warmth.

As we’re rolling out the gingerbread dough, Andrew looks over at me with a glint in his eye. Swiftly, he reaches out and dabs some flour on my nose. “Now you look like a proper baker,” he teases.

“Oh, it’s on now!” I retaliate gleefully, flicking some flour right back at him.

For a moment, he stands there frozen, staring at me in disbelief. Then, his eyes squint as he grins, revealing those charming dimples that I’m finding myself increasingly fond of.

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” he challenges, sounding delighted.

“You started it. But I’d plan your next move wisely, detective.” My hands poised with more flour .

His smirk falters before he falls into a bout of deep, hearty laughter. “Alright, alright, I surrender!” He waves his hands in defeat.

A sense of victory tugs at my heart, and I let out an amused giggle. “Didn’t see that coming from the brave detective. But since you surrendered…I’ll show mercy.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his gaze soft. “You have a bit of flour on your…” He points to his cheek. “Here, let me…”

Andrew leans forward and gently brushes the flour off my cheek with his thumb. For a moment, time seems to freeze as we look at each other. My heart pounds in my chest at the proximity.

“Jane,” he begins, his voice low and steady.

“Yes?”

He reaches for my hand. “I’ve enjoyed spending time with you—more than I can express.

Since the moment I met you…you sparked life back into me, Jane.

I’ve spent every day thinking about you.

You’re beautiful, smart, funny,” he chuckles lightly, “and sassy too. You’re kind and the way you care for people, it’s incredible. ”

I swallow thickly as I try to gather my thoughts. “Andrew—”

He cuts across me gently, “Let me finish…” His hand reaches for my cheek. “I’m in love with you, Jane Brooks. ”

“I’m in love with you too.” My voice is shaky with emotion as I meet his gaze, but I’m sure of my words. “I’ve never felt like this before. You make me feel special.”

A radiant smile spreads across his face as he leans in and softly brushes his lips against mine. The kiss is warm and sweet, like a sip of the hot chocolate we’d shared earlier. It sends tingles racing through my veins, igniting a fire within me.

When we pull away, Andrew’s eyes are glowing with happiness. “This is definitely the best Christmas tradition yet,” he murmurs.

I laugh, my heart full. “I couldn’t agree more.”