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He never thought he’d say this, but Ves is actually kind of getting used to being in Piney Peaks. Not forever, obviously. But it’s a quaint little town, a vacation from the norms and routines that usually guide his days.
For example, when was the last time he just ambled anywhere in the city? It’s always point A to point B in the most efficient way possible. He takes the subway everywhere with his AirPods in, the latest podcast prattling away in his ears, studiously avoiding eye contact.
But here, he can’t so much as walk out his front door without someone waving at him, saying something jovial and silly, like Nice weather we’re having, huh? when the temperature is in the single digits and Ves has zero inclination to shiver through an outdoor chat. He can’t even head down Main Street without someone recognizing him as Maeve’s nephew and offering their sympathies.
If he thought his new fame as Came to Sleigh’s trivia secret weapon was too much before, it has nothing on the attention he receives after being crowned the Candy Cane Olympics champ. And even that pales in comparison to the wildfire gossip that spread after Marcy and Bibi caught the blushes and open affection between him and Elisha last night at the holiday party.
So he avoids Main Street entirely and meanders down the winding lanes that caught his eye his first night here. The bookshop is his first stop, an indie painted a Shire green with spellbound spines handpainted in glorious gold Gothic lettering. Across the storefront windows is a mural of books of varying heights, a renowned fantasy title on each spine. The front door is between A Wizard of Earthsea and Alanna: The First Adventure. With a smile, Ves steps inside to meet his people.
Fantasy has always been there for him. Even long after he discovered that, try as he might, there was no magical portal at the back of a wardrobe to take him away. Even when his parents fought, even if he was sent to his room for no reason other than to get out of the way, his books were always there. And when he felt most alone growing up, he knew it was between the pages where he could always find a family.
Ves peruses the latest middle-grade fantasy, finding his own titles among the Hs on the shelf, before moving on to the adult section, walking out with the latest Jemisin, Bardugo, and Schwab.
In a vintage candy store lined with enormous glass jars full to the brim, he buys Christmas ribbon candy, soft and chewy caramel, and several scoops of gummies. It’s the same place he bought the chocolates for Elisha’s mother, and the owner, an apple-cheeked elderly lady with pince-nez and several sweet stories about Maeve, is thrilled with his return and insists on giving him free samples of pistachio-and-rose Turkish delight.
His stomach grumbles as he passes a blue-painted toy shop. Small children and their parents are pressed close to the picture window, their breath fogging up the glass as they watch an electric train chug resolutely around the tracks, disappear beneath a snow-covered tunnel, and emerge on the other side with an exuberant choo-choo! The locomotive is black, with a red nameplate that glints gold on the turns, reading piney peaks express, while the boxcars that make up the body and the caboose are the same bright, candy-apple red.
The set is detailed and expensive with a whole Christmas village and tiny figurines. More of an adult indulgence, really, but it doesn’t stop the kids’ wide-eyed wonder or the way they pull at their parents’ hands to go inside. He can’t remember if he ever tugged on his parents to get his way. Ves watches the children’s enraptured faces, their parents’ fond and not at all impatient expressions, and his heart lurches.
“Oooh, doing your Christmas shopping early?”
“Window shopping,” he replies without turning. He would know that voice anywhere. Now that he knows what her soft gasps and breathless sounds of pleasure sound like, there’s no way his mind can expunge them. “How do you sound so perky after the number of drinks I saw you consume last night?”
Elisha laughs and comes to stand next to him, crunching her way across the fresh snowfall looking very sweet in pink booties, blue jeans, and a pink-checked blazer. She has a Nikon camera hanging from a strap around her neck. “Mom asked me the same thing when she came downstairs and saw that I was already up.” She flashes him a cheeky grin. “Guess it’s my superpower?”
“Maybe.”
Doubtful. Because when he sees her, it’s like the overcast gray of the world rolls back to reveal a literal ray of human sunshine. That’s her superpower.
Her dark hair just brushes her lapels, falling over the apples of her cheeks as she peers into the window. The bright lights dart across her face, speckling it golden. Without thinking, he reaches out to tuck her hair behind her ear. She stiffens slightly, then relaxes, giving him wide eyes and a faintly confused smile.
With his leather gloves on, it’s a clumsier tuck than he thought. It takes him a couple of attempts to successfully get all her hair, and bafflingly she keeps still, letting him finish. Except for one moment when she actually leans into his touch, infuriatingly close, and gives him those storeroom eyes, all but pleading for him to be tender in other ways, too.
His heart trips over itself. Several times, like a Slinky tumbling down a staircase. And when he lets his gloved fingertips linger over her cheekbones, she bites her lip. By the time he’s done, her mouth is as pink as her cheeks.
If only he didn’t have his gloves on.
The yearning is a swift, lethal punch. He wishes he’d taken them off first, because now he can’t stop wondering if there would have been a tiny spark if he had only touched her with his bare hand. A day ago, his head would have written it off as static electricity, but today, he knows that his heart wouldn’t be able to deny his feelings for her.
He tries to ignore how something as simple and innocent as her wide-eyed stare makes his cheeks tingle. It’s nice to know he’s not the only one affected. The tension is palpable, but in a good way, like either of them could go in for a kiss right that second.
“Let me guess, you like the train and the little model village,” she says.
He drops his hand down to his side. Is her voice oddly hoarse? Maybe she’s coming down with a cold. It wouldn’t surprise him with today’s weather forecast. See, even now, her blazer is unbuttoned. No hat, no mittens. He bites back what he wants to say. Why is she so reckless? Why does he care?
“I’m that predictable, am I?” he asks instead of what he really wants to know.
She hums under her breath. “Yes, but you surprise me from time to time.”
His heart stirs. He’s about to promise that he’ll do it more often from now on, but he stops himself just in time.
That’s not something he can promise, is it? Not in good faith, anyway. He knows himself and even though he’s gone a little out of his comfort zone while he’s been here, he’s still the same old Ves, with the same flaws that were dealbreakers for Claire and so many other girlfriends over the years.
He may have fit in at trivia and at the Chocolate Mouse, but this isn’t his world. He needs to remember that.
Elisha points at a snuggly-looking brown teddy bear with a red cardigan. “I have one just like that.”
With relief and gratitude for her change of subject, he falls into their familiar banter. “Pride of place in the center of your bed?” he teases.
