A Cross-Country Christmas(39)

“. . .find the mistletoe hidden throughout the resort. Merry Christmas, El Muérdago!”

The buzzing crowd dispersed.

A moment of awkward uncertainty hung between them as they seemed to be the only two people standing still.

“Do you, uh, want to walk around a little?” he asked. “Or is a Christmas market too festive for you?”

The corner of her mouth turned up. He took it as a win.

“Sure, let’s see if we can find some marshmallows to stuff in your mouth,” she said, playfully. “Anything to shut you up.”

Jokes. He’d take that as a win too.

They ambled toward the market, both slowing at the hot chocolate stand as if they instinctively knew it had to be their first stop.

They ordered, picked up their drinks, then continued to stroll underneath the awning of white lights hung overhead.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” Lauren said quietly, avoiding his eyes and wrapping both hands around her cup. “With your scholarship and everything.”

“It’s okay,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I deserved it. I can own my mistakes.”

“That shows a lot of maturity,” she said.

“Nah, I just learned how to take all of those feelings and push them way down,” he joked.

She rolled her eyes. “Such a guy.”

He glanced at her sideways. “It was painful for you to say that I’m mature out loud, wasn’t it?”

She laughed. “I admit, I had you pegged for an overgrown frat boy.”

“I get it,” he said. “I think that’s an accurate description of who I used to be.” He stopped in front of a booth showcasing homemade jewelry. Pewter hand-stamped necklaces and earrings and bracelets on display. “But it’s not who I am anymore.”

She stilled.

“I drew my sister Nadia’s name for Christmas.” It was definitely time to change the subject. “Do you think she’d like something like this?” He picked up a necklace with the words This Moment Matters etched into it.

Lauren stared at it for much longer than he’d have expected. “Why this one?”

He shrugged. “I like what it says. Nadia’s kind of like you. A little Type A, a little uptight.” Lauren hit him, mocking annoyance. “Not a lot, but you know, she, like you, has a. . .ahem. . .a hard time having fun. Might be a good reminder to live in the moment, right?”

“I do not have a hard time having fun,” she said. “I went sledding today, thankyouverymuch.”

“Because I forced you,” he said. “You’re welcome.”

“I would’ve gotten there eventually. And by the end, I was racing those little kids down that hill.” She grinned. “And I won.”

He studied her smile, noticing the way it turned up a little higher on one side, like she was holding back, and then it disappeared altogether.

“You said I don’t take anything seriously,” he said. “But really, I’m just trying not to take a single minute for granted.”

She nodded her approval. “Then I think that’s the perfect gift.”

He winced. “Not too cheesy?”

“Not at all.”

He got the attention of the young woman behind the table and purchased the necklace while Lauren meandered away, seemingly lost in the twinkling wonder of it all.

After he paid, he joined her at the next booth—a wide array of various homemade cheeses and jams on display—wondering—fearing—what it was that had her so quiet.

“Do you think I take moments for granted?” She moved on toward a booth filled with homemade soy candles.

“From the little bit I know about you,” he offered, “maybe. But honestly, I admire your drive. I’m hoping some of it will rub off on me.”

“Ha. Only if you’re lucky.”

He didn’t disagree. Although maybe he had a different definition of ‘lucky’ than she did. “Soo. . .since you know my deepest, darkest secrets now, can we maybe call a truce?”

She stopped walking and faced him squarely. “Were we at war?”

“You were definitely at war with me,” he said.

She looked away. “Sorry about that. I think…” she trailed off, “I guess I thought I knew you.”

“Ah.” He jabbed two thumbs at himself. “Frat boy.”

She hesitated slightly. “Well, no. . .I mean, yeah, I guess. Just someone who loved sports and loved. . .girls.”

Will pondered this. “You didn’t like what you thought you knew.”

She shrugged. “We’re just very different people.”

They walked a few steps in silence, until she quirked a brow up at him. “But even Elizabeth Bennet had to admit when she’d misjudged Mr. Darcy, so I suppose I can do the same.” She stuck out her hand.

He felt his mouth crawl into a smile as he slipped his hand in hers and shook it slowly, noticing the way her cool skin felt against his. “No idea what you’re talking about, but if it means we can be friends, great.”

She straightened. “You don’t know Pride and Prejudice?”

He grimaced. “Chick flick?”

“It’s a book,” she said flatly.