Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Outside, the snow is falling softly, covering Copper Mountain in a blanket of white. And as I walk away, I make a silent promise to myself: I’m going to show Cole that he doesn’t have to spend Christmas alone, that he can still find joy, still find love, even if he’s too stubborn to see it.
Chapter Seven
Ivy
I hang the last string of twinkling Christmas lights over the top of the bulletin board, my fingers sore from wrestling with the clips. My classroom is nearly ready for tomorrow, and each inch is covered in something festive—wreaths, garlands, and a stack of wrapped presents with each of my students’ names written on them in gold marker. It’s hard work, but it’s worth it to see their faces light up tomorrow when they walk in. The last day of school before Christmas break is tomorrow and I have an entire day of festivities planned.
I take a step back to admire my work, only to bump into something solid. Cole’s hand comes to rest on my shoulder, steadying me. I look up, catching the shadow of a grin tugging at his mouth.
“Thought you could use an extra set of hands tonight,” he says with a smirk, holding up a tangled mess of Christmas lights and a box. “Brought you some candy canes and cheer.”
I can’t help but laugh, taking them from him and shaking them loose. “Hear to hang Christmas lights huh, Mr. Grinch?”
He narrows his eyes, unamused but still somehow amused. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t exactly have a lot of need for holiday decor up on the mountain.”
“Well, it’s high time you learned,” I say, threading one end of the lights into his hands. “Besides, what better place to start than a classroom full of eight-year-olds who are counting on Santa to show up?”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Santa, huh?”
“Yes, and you’re looking at him.” I hand him a red Santa hat, fighting the smile pulling at my lips. “The kids don’t need to know the real Santa got a little, uh… taller and gruffer this year.”
“Not again.” He pushes the hat back toward me, but I just smirk and cross my arms.
“Too late. I already promised them.” I fib. “Santa’s coming, and he’s got Cole written all over him.”
He groans, his fingers rubbing his temples like he’s developing a sudden headache. “You really don’t take no for an answer, do you?”
“Never.” I grab his arm, pulling him closer to the front of the room. “Now help me with these lights. We’ll make a Christmas elf out of you yet.”
He chuckles under his breath, letting me drag him across the room. He follows my lead, surprisingly compliant as I weave the lights along the windows, securing them with tiny hooks. His fingers brush mine as he hands me each clip, and with each accidental touch, the air between us thickens, a tension building that has nothing to do with the decorations.
I glance at him, catching the way his gaze lingers on me, the warmth there so at odds with his usual scowl.
“What?” I ask, fighting the heat rising in my cheeks.
“Nothing.” He looks away, shrugging. “Just… never seen someone put this much effort into a classroom before. You really care about them, huh?”
“Of course I do.” I smile, a soft warmth blooming in my chest. “Some of these kids don’t have much. And if I can give them just a little bit of magic, make them feel special for a day, that’s all that matters.”
His expression softens, just for a second, but then he shifts, glancing away like he’s uncomfortable. “Guess you’re the type to make everyone feel special.”
I roll my eyes, nudging him with my shoulder. “Oh, don’t go getting sentimental on me now, Cole. You’re supposed to be grumpy and reluctant, remember?”
He grins, that devilish smirk creeping back. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m still the same grumpy bastard.”
“Oh, I know.” I laugh, but my voice catches as he steps closer, the lights casting a warm glow over his face, his eyes darker than usual, intense as they sweep over me.
“You’ve got something here,” he murmurs, reaching up. His fingers brush my cheek, tangling in a strand of my hair that’s caught in the lights. The air between us feels charged, electric, each second stretched and tense as he slowly untangles my hair, his gaze never leaving mine.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, but I don’t move, can’t seem to pull away. He’s close, so close, and every instinct in me is screaming to close the gap, to kiss him, consequences be damned. I’ve been reliving that night in his cabin since it happened, my mind distracted with thoughts of his lips and his hands and his throbbing…
“You know, Ivy, you’re playing with fire.” He leans down, his lips brushing against my ear.