Page 9 of Christmas at Wolf Creek
Kori looks up from where she’s been sketching by the window. “We could drive into town? I need more pencils anyway.”
“Town!” Kat sits bolt upright, suddenly energized. “Yes! Civilization! People who aren’t related to us!”
“What would we even do there?” I ask, though I’m already warming to the idea. “Pinecrest isn’t exactly a metropolis.”
Lana appears at the top of the stairs, her hair wrapped in a towel. “Did someone say town? I’m in. I need conditioner that doesn’t smell like pine trees.”
“Wait,” Kori says, tapping her pencil against her sketchbook. “They might have Christmas decorations in the shops.”
Five pairs of eyes meet in sudden, collective realization.
“Christmas decorations,” I breathe, an unexpected surge of excitement bubbling up. “For the lodge.”
“Oh my god, yes,” Kat claps her hands together. “This place needs serious holiday spirit. It’s practically begging for a twelve-foot tree with obnoxious amounts of tinsel.”
“Declan mentioned Tomas never decorated for Christmas,” I add. “Said the place was always bare during the holidays.”
“Well, that’s just depressing,” Mia says, setting down her mug. “And not happening on our watch. Operation Christmas Takeover is a go.”
“We should get Ella to join us,” I suggest, already reaching for my phone. “She’d know which shops are best.”
Kat’s eyes light up with mischief. “Or we could surprise her. What’s the bakery in town called again?”
“Sweet Treats,” I answer.
A mischievous gleam appears in Kat’s eyes. “What if we just show up and kidnap her for an afternoon of Christmas shopping?”
“Kidnap seems a bit extreme,” I laugh, but I’m already imagining the look on Ella’s face.
“Festive extraction,” Mia corrects, taking a sip from her mug. “Give me fifteen minutes to get ready.”
Forty-five minutes later (because no one in this family can actually get ready in fifteen minutes), we pile into the six-seater SUV and set off for Pinecrest. Kane declined to join our expedition, mumbled an excuse about checking fence lines.
The drive into town is gorgeous—snow-covered mountains in the distance, flanked by snow-dusted pines, and the occasional glimpse of frozen lakes glittering in the distance. It’s like driving through a Christmas card.
“So what’s the plan?” Lana asks from the passenger seat as I navigate a particularly sharp curve. “Just storm the bakery and demand they release Ella into our custody?”
“Pretty much,” I nod, grinning at the absurdity. “Though maybe with less storming and more puppy-dog eyes. It’s hard to say no to Kat when she does her pleading face.”
“It’s a gift,” Kat preens from the backseat. “One I use responsibly and for the greater good.”
“Like the time you convinced that bar owner that you were a call girl?” I remind her.
“That was different. The man was a slimeball,” she chuckled.
I shake my head, laughing. “Just try not to get us banned from the only bakery in town. I hear their cinnamon rolls are legendary.”
Pinecrest appears ahead, a picturesque mountaintown that seems designed specifically for Christmas tourism. Main Street is lined with charming shops, their windows already displaying early holiday decorations. Workers are wrapping evergreen garlands around lamp posts with red bows, and a crew is setting up what appears to be a massive Christmas tree in the town square.
“Oh, this is perfect,” Lana breathes as we park. “Look at this place—it’s like we drove into a Hallmark movie.”
“Complete with the hot, brooding local,” Kat murmurs, nodding toward a tall man in a flannel shirt loading supplies into a truck. “Ten bucks says he owns a Christmas tree farm and is secretly nursing a broken heart.”
“You’ve watched too many holiday romcoms,” I laugh, pulling my coat tighter against the crisp air. “Come on, let’s find Sweet Treats Bakery.”
We don’t have to look far. The bakery sits in a prime position on Main Street, its windows already fogging with the heat from inside. A bell jingles cheerfully as we enter, and the scent of fresh bread and cinnamon envelops us immediately.
The place is busy—nearly every table occupied with locals nursing coffees and pastries. Behind the counter, a plump woman with gray hair is boxing up cookies while a younger man operates the espresso machine. But no sign of Ella.