Page 84 of Merry Fake Bride

Desireforher.

The aching urge to take her in my arms and kiss her until she’s trembling and breathless.

It’s all I can think about?—

“Whoa!” My thoughts become my downfall, and the ice sweeps out from under my feet.

As I stumble, Devon’s suddenly right next to me and she wraps both her arms around my middle.

“I’ve got you!” She braces down on the ice and uses her body weight to rebalance me.

I have no choice but to clasp her shoulders, and she doesn’t seem to mind, but as we come to a slow stop, she’s trembling.

My heart spikes with worry. “Devon, are you okay?”

My concern melts away the instant she lifts her head from being pressed against my chest and reveals she’s laughing hard again.

“I’m sorry!” she gasps. “Your face was just—” She breaks into peals of laughter once more and pats my chest with her hand. “Come on. You deserve a break.”

It really is the warmest sound I’ve ever heard.

“This is how we count down to Christmas,” Devon explains twenty minutes later as we wander the Christmas market with hot chocolates clutched in our cold hands.

“As a town?” I ask. “Or as a family?”

“Both. For me and my parents, it was never Christmas until the first skate touched the ice. I think that’s a tradition dating back to when my dad used to play ice hockey. A long time ago.”

“Did you?”

“Oh, no.” She laughs softly. “I learned to skate, did a little performance dancing when I was a kid, but that’s all.” Sighing wistfully, she gazes up at the strings of lights weaving across sky, spun between the lampposts and the roofs of each little stall set up to celebrate the festivities and sell their creations. “This is my first one in five years. It feels nice.”

She sips her drink, and there’s a flash of something in her eyes.

Unspoken pain.

It’s gone as quickly as it arrived, and I’m left to study her beautiful face as wooden Christmas decorations catch her eye.

“I’ve not celebrated Christmas in years. Not fully since my father passed and before that, I would be out of town on a deal or wrapped up in some fancy soiree my mother organized to seal a deal or persuade someone to make the right choice.”

“Poor little rich boy,” Devon teases, her expression soft. “Stick around here long enough and you’ll be swept up in the magic in no time. We have this fair which, if you really want to leave your mark, you should buy something from every stall. There’s the Yule festival usually held on my street with the bakery, with lots of food and hot drinks. I’m not sure about this year, though.”

It seems that will hinge on her success with the land rights.

“There’s a parade near Christmas where everyone dresses up and leaves presents under the tree in the town square. Those presents are usually donated the day after Christmas. We also do a bakery sale and the school puts on a show. Everywhere you look, there’s magic. My favorite thing, though?”

“Tell me,” I coax gently.

“The lights down here.”

We turn away from the stalls laden with candles, decorations, handmade wax paintings, and more, onto a smaller street where several bare trees line the middle of the path.

Each one is wrapped entirely in bright white crystal lights, making them look more like twinkling icicles than trees.

Above them, bright blue lights stream from one branch to another, connecting each tree in a river of sparkling light.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” She beams up at me. “And it’s quieter with everyone busy at the market so you can walk and just… listen.”