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Chapter Four

C ole

Two mornings after our hot chocolate date, I’m bent over an old Indian motorcycle when I hear the crunch of metal echo through the evergreens. I grunt, dropping a set of pliers on my workbench and then walking out of my shop and into the road. I squint, looking up and down the old mountain highway when I see it, a tiny puff of smoke rising out of the ditch.

“What the hell?” I climb into my truck and back out of the driveway, headed down the icy road to investigate. By the time I drive the half mile, I know exactly what I’m looking at. A familiar little red car is pinned against a tree.

“Dammit.” I husk, crawling out of my truck and moving down the snowy bank. I throw the driver side door open and find Ivy. She has a small cut above her eyebrow but otherwise she looks safe.

She’s bundled up in her ridiculous red coat and matching hat with that pom-pom bouncing around like it’s got a mind of its own.

“You okay?” I grunt, helping her out of the front seat as steam barrels out from under her hood.

“I’m fine, I swerved to avoid a baby deer,” she breathes, blinking as she tries to catch her bearings.

“Nice.” I pull a handkerchief from my pocket and swipe at the trail of blood at her temple. “Your head hurt?”

“No,” she hums, touching the cut at her eyebrow. “Did I hit the baby deer?”

“No, looks like you’re the only one that got hurt. How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three.” Comes her quick reply.

“Good. I don’t think your car faired as well.” Her car sits, once again, just as dead as it was the last time she “accidentally” needed me. I almost smirk, almost call her out on the act. But there’s something about her standing there with that gleam in her eye that makes it impossible to resist the game.

“Looks like you’re gonna need a tow.” I inform her.

“No–it’ll be fine. She just needs a breather.” Ivy glances back at her smoking engine.

“Sure.” I say, dubious. “You drivin’ up the mountain to spread a little more cheer? Or did you just miss me?”

“Both.” She grins, undeterred. “You love it, Cole.”

I raise an eyebrow, playing along. “I don’t remember saying that.”

“Oh, it’s in there somewhere.” She gestures toward my chest, the same way she might wave her hand toward a random piece of scenery, like she knows every inch of me. “Deep down. Past all the gruff exterior and anti-Christmas nonsense.”

I chuckle, opening the passenger side door of my truck. “Get in. You’re not standing out here trying to talk me into liking Christmas while we freeze.”

She climbs in, bringing a gust of peppermint with her, and buckles up, looking a little too smug as she settles into the seat. “Thanks for saving me again, Mr. Grinch.” Her eyes are sparkling with mischief. “I was on my way up here to deliver some goodies to you and try to convince you into helping me at the Christmas festival in town.” She presses her lips together, “Guess you’re coming with me now, Mrs. Frye is expecting me in ten minutes. You don’t mind driving me, right?”

I slide behind the wheel, trying to keep the corners of my mouth from pulling up. “Not sure I signed up for the part of your personal taxi service.”

“Oh, this isn’t a taxi,” she says smoothly. “It’s much more fun than that.”

“And how’s that?”

She bats her eyelashes, way too innocent. “We could make a little game out of this drive into town. A dare game.”

I glance over, eyebrow raised. “A dare game? With you?”

“Unless you’re scared,” she taunts, nudging my arm, her face alight with challenge.

“Scared?” I scoff, settling back in my seat. “Of what? Your childish dares?”

“Guess we’ll find out.” She smirks, looking out the window as if she’s suddenly uninterested in my reaction. It’s all part of her game, I know that, but damn if it doesn’t work.

“Fine. You’re on,” I say, leaning into her trap.

“Perfect,” she says, tapping her chin like she’s got a whole list of ideas ready to go. “First up—drink this.” She pulls a thermos out of her bag and hands it over. I unscrew the top, sniffing cautiously. The distinct scent of eggnog hits me, and I grimace.

“Really?”

“Oh, come on,” she says, exasperated. “It’s festive. Besides, it’s just eggnog, not some deadly poison.”

“Same difference,” I mutter, but I take a tentative sip. The thick sweetness coats my tongue, and I can’t help but cringe. She watches me, her eyes gleaming with barely-contained laughter.

“There you go!” She claps, the sound a little too loud in the confined space. “One down, a few more to go.”

I hand the thermos back, my jaw tight. “What’s next, then?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll find out.” She grins, tapping her fingers on the dashboard like she’s counting the minutes. “Now, point this old truck to town. I’ve got a date with Christmas spirit.”

I chuckle, doing just what she asked. As we drive through Copper Mountain, the snowy landscape giving way to the lights and sounds of the Christmas Festival, I can feel her excitement radiating off her. People in town are wrapped in scarves and coats, bustling around from booth to booth, and there’s this energy in the air that I can’t completely ignore. It’s like I’ve been dropped into some kind of holiday movie scene, and all I want to do is roll my eyes and get out of here. But with Ivy next to me, I don’t mind it nearly as much as I should.

She nudges me again as we park. “Time for dare number two.”

“And what’s that?”

She pulls a red Santa hat out of her bag and dangles it in front of my face like a piece of bait. “Put this on.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Nope. Santa hat or bust.” She’s relentless, her eyes challenging me, daring me to back out. And damn it if I don’t take the bait.

With a heavy sigh, I grab the hat and pull it over my head, feeling ridiculous. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” she replies, and I don’t miss the way her eyes linger on me a second longer than they should. “You look adorable.”

“I don’t do adorable,” I grumble, adjusting the hat as it slides over my eyes.

“Today, you do.” She winks, then grabs my hand, pulling me toward the booths and lights without giving me a chance to protest.

We weave through the crowd, her energy infectious despite my best attempts to stay stoic. Kids are running around with candy canes, couples are holding hands, and everywhere I look, there’s tinsel, lights, and decorations. Ivy keeps tugging me along, stopping only when we reach a small stage area where a woman with a clipboard is waving her over.

“Oh, Ivy! Thank you so much for volunteering!” the woman says, her eyes darting to me, surprise crossing her face. “And who’s this? Our new Santa?”

I glare at Ivy. “Volunteering?”

She grins, looking like the cat that caught the canary. “Surprise. It’s the kids’ gift exchange, and we need someone to play Santa.”

“Absolutely not,” I say, shaking my head. “You never said anything about this.”

“Oh, but it’s perfect,” she insists, her hand on my arm, squeezing just enough to make it hard to pull away. “You’ve already got the hat. And look at these kids—they need someone to make their night.”

I glance at the kids, their hopeful faces turning toward us, and I feel a twist in my gut. Damn her and her Christmas spirit.

“I’m not doing this,” I mutter, but even as I say it, I know I’ve lost. There’s no way I’m backing out now, not with her looking at me like that and the kids practically chanting for Santa. “This is why you were comin’ up my mountain–to sweet talk me into your Santa job?”

“Mr. Frye came down with a cold and can’t do it–you’ve got a better beard for the job, anyway. I even brought a can of spray snow to give you that Santa-look.”

“No way,” I growl.

“Oh, come on, Cole.” She leans in, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper that only I can hear. “Do this, and I might consider putting you on my Nice List.”

My jaw clenches, every muscle in my body resisting her charm and failing. With a heavy sigh, I reach for the Santa coat the woman with the clipboard hands me and grumble, “You owe me for this.”

Ivy beams, a satisfied smile on her face. I shrug the coat on, pull on the pair of giant red pants over my dark jeans, and then wait patiently as Ivy takes a spray can of white shit and covers my beard with it. When I take my place in front of the small crowd of kids, they stare up at me, wide-eyed and awestruck, and for a second, I almost forget how ridiculous I feel. Almost.

“Ho, ho, ho,” I manage, deadpan, but the kids don’t seem to care. They rush forward, holding out their lists and gifts, babbling about what they want for Christmas. Ivy watches from the sidelines, grinning like she’s orchestrated the greatest prank of all time.

By the time I’m done, I feel like I’ve run a marathon. The kids scatter, and I hand the hat and suit back to Mrs. Frye, who thanks me profusely before moving on to the next event. I turn to Ivy, crossing my arms.

“Happy now?”

She bites her lip, holding back laughter. “Very. You looked great up there, Cole. Really fit the part.”

“Glad my humiliation brought you so much joy.”

She steps closer, her eyes sparkling as she looks up at me. “You were a hit. I think you made those kids’ night.”

“Yeah, well, I hope you’re satisfied,” I mutter, but there’s a part of me that can’t be mad, not with her looking at me like that, all proud and amused.

“Maybe,” she murmurs, her voice softer now, her hand coming up to adjust the collar of my coat. Her fingers linger a little too long, her eyes meeting mine, and for a moment, the world around us fades, the laughter and music of the festival disappearing until it’s just her and me, standing there under the twinkling lights.

“You’re something else, Ivy,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, and her eyes flicker, a blush rising in her cheeks.

“Good to know I keep you guessing,” she replies, her voice a little breathless, and I can see the struggle in her eyes, the way she’s trying to keep her composure.

“Guessing?” I let my hand slide up her arm, feeling her shiver under my touch. “I think you know exactly what you’re doing.”

Her gaze drops to my mouth, and I feel the tension snap, like a cord pulled too tight. Before I can second-guess it, I lean in, brushing my lips against hers, soft at first, testing, and then deeper as she melts into me, her hands coming up to grip my jacket.

The kiss is slow, deliberate, every movement a challenge, a dare, and she meets it head-on, her mouth warm and inviting, tasting faintly of peppermint. I feel her hands slide up, curling around my neck, pulling me closer, and I let myself get lost in her, in the softness of her lips, the warmth of her skin, the faint hint of her perfume that drives me wild.

When we finally pull back, she’s breathless, her eyes wide and dazed, and I can’t help but smirk. “Guess that’s one way to get on the Nice List.”