The Asheville Christmas Tradition (Carolina Christmas #4)

18. Hannah

Hannah woke on Friday morning with one thing on her mind—a Christmas tree. She didn’t want to go one more day without one.

Okay, maybe the purveyor of Christmas trees was the real thing on her mind. But whatever the underlying motivation, she hated that she’d passed on the tree in her little home.

December twentieth wasn’t too late, was it?

Not if she happened to know…the right people. And, oh, he was right , wasn’t he?

It took until three in the afternoon for her to find the nerve to drive up the winding road to the tree farm for the third time that season. No field trip or family outing this time.

Just Hannah and, she hoped, Brandon.

For the past few days, she’d thought about him a lot. Yes, it was a little soon to consider a new relationship and, yes, the idea terrified her.

But Hannah was tired of her life being dictated by fear, tired of waiting for her life to improve, tired of being on the outside looking in at all the love and happiness around her and not having some of her own.

She had to make a choice and take action—even if it meant rejection.

Something told her Brandon Fletcher wasn’t going to reject her. He looked at her with warmth and interest, found every excuse to casually take her hand or touch her shoulder, and he’d asked her to go ice skating with him.

That was not a man who was about to rebuff her interest.

Gripping the steering wheel as the first fat flakes of snow started to fall, she powered through the last few curves and rounded the bend near the top of the mountain.

She’d heard some talk of a storm, but hadn’t paid too much attention. However, as she pulled into the large lot and looked around, she suddenly realized she might be the only one who hadn’t paid attention.

The tree farm was absolutely empty. There were no cars, no kids, no…Brandon.

Climbing out of her car, she pulled on her parka and looked around, surprised and deeply disappointed.

She walked up to the sales shack, aching to see the little hot chocolate stand or hear the laughter of excited families loading up their firs and pines. Her gaze fell on a hand-painted sign that said, “Closed for Storm! Come Back Before Christmas!”

Closed ? She didn’t want to come back. She was here now . Looking around, she sighed, spying a curl of smoke from the main house on the eastern perimeter of the property.

That’s where Brandon’s parents lived, she recalled, and he…

She turned and faced the opposite direction, remembering the secret pond where he wanted to skate with her. Should she try to find that cozy cabin tucked into the woods?

But when you’re ready, I’ll be here. Skates are hanging beside the cabin door and if I’m not cutting down trees, I’m inside with a fire and a good book .

His invitation echoed in her head, nudging her forward.

Pulling gloves from her pocket, she squinted in the direction where she’d walked with Brandon.

Could she find her way back to that pond and cabin? She’d have to go on foot, since there was no way to drive, but she sure didn’t want to get lost on the side of the mountain when nightfall was only a few hours away.

That would not be good. But was that enough to make her turn around and give up? That would just be giving into fear and paralysis, and where had that gotten Hannah in life?

Alone.

On a deep sigh, she took a few steps toward that side of the property, trying to remember the route. Down that hill, along a path, around a curve, and down a bit of a slope…there was a man. A man she liked a lot.

Zipping the parka all the way up and slipping into the gloves, she made sure she had her phone and her keys, then took off, blinking when a snowflake hit her face.

As she started down the hill, she felt a smile pull and grow with each step. This was what she wanted from life—to be audacious and bold and take a?—

“Oh!” She slid on an ice patch, nearly losing her balance.

—risk.

“Dang it, Hannah,” she said out loud, her words caught in the chilly breeze. “Don’t break a leg on your way to audaciousness.”

Righting herself and slowing to a careful trudge, she reached the bottom of the first slope, then turned left, following the snowy path until she turned…right? Which way was that lake? Why hadn’t she paid closer attention when she’d walked here with Brandon?

Because she’d been flirting and laughing and feeling things. Now, she could only feel cold feet and wet snow.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she remembered the walk with Brandon and…yes, right. They’d definitely gone right. Heading that way, she steadied her breathing and lifted her face to the fading sun, feeling the cold flutter of snowflakes as they fell on her cheeks and eyelashes.

It felt good to take a chance. Good to pursue this…romance. Because, face it, that’s what she was doing.

She slowed her step as she came to the steep drop where she’d held his hand, certain she was in the right place. Well, kind of certain.

Without Brandon to lean on, she crouched down and essentially rode on her bottom and back over the snow-covered dirt path, easily making it without a mishap.

She rested there for a second, feeling oddly victorious, then looked around again. She just had to go…oh, boy.

This did not look anything like she remembered. Was that grouping of pine trees there when Brandon brought her? Wasn’t there another hill?

She walked some more, longer than she remembered, so she stopped, turned and…grunted in frustration, her booted feet moving slowly from cold and uncertainty.

“I’m lost,” she muttered, hating the feeling of her heart climbing up in her throat. “I went out to pursue a man, conquer my fears, and…now I’m going to die in a snowstorm, lost in the mountains. Great. Just great.”

Tears stung, mixing with the cold flakes. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, but she didn’t have a single bar.

Tamping down panic, she continued back in the direction she’d come. With each step, she got a little more turned around.

“Okay, okay. Think.” She tried her phone again—no luck—then took a deep breath, wiped a tear she didn’t want to shed, and relied completely on her instincts to head…somewhere.

Her foot slipped again, this time sliding right out from under her. She careened on ice and snow, slid down the slope, arms flailing as a shriek escaped her throat.

She landed in a soft bank of snow, inches from the trunk of a pine tree. Several pine trees, actually, which were…

Wait a second! She pushed up and peeked over the rise of the embankment that stopped her fall and let out a quiet hoot of victory.

There was the small cabin tucked into the woods. An icy pond reflected the gunmetal-gray sky and snowflakes fell over…a skater.

One man in the center of the ice, gliding like he was literally flying, wearing a sweater and jeans, brown locks fluttering. He held a hockey stick, flipping it left and right, pushing a tiny black puck that was completely in his control.

For a split second, she couldn’t breathe. There were too many emotions—too much relief, an overdose of adrenaline, the blinding elation that she’d beat the elements and fear. Most of all, she ached to go be with that man. The feeling was so strong, she could taste it.

She did it! She did it! She didn’t get lost, she didn’t crumble or melt or fall—well, not too hard—and she’d found him.

Brushing back some hair that had fallen in her face, she made her way to the cabin, glancing at him as she walked. He had no idea she was there. No idea, she imagined, that anything in the world existed but that ice, that puck, and his personal strength and grace.

She reached the cabin and spied about five pairs of skates hanging on hooks. She picked up a white pair that looked close to her size, and dropped onto the bench to put them on, not at all surprised that her whole body was unstable after the battle with the mountain.

Tying the laces, she stood, wobbly at first, but it was easy to see the skate-friendly path that led straight to the pond from here. Taking a deep breath of freezing air, she started toward him, just about at the edge of the ice when he turned and sliced the ice to bring himself to a complete stop.

“Excuse me, but…” His voice trailed off as he glided closer, near enough that she could see his frown transform into a smile. “Hannah?”

“Hey.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came for a tree”—and you, she added mentally—“but I think I’ll stay for a skate.”

He zipped straight to her, tossing the hockey stick as he reached her and extending both hands. “I can’t believe this.”

She took his hands and held tight, gazing at him, lost again. Only this time, she knew exactly how to find her way.

Still zinging with adrenaline, high from the adventure, and aching to be close to him, she slid across the small space that separated them and wrapped her arms around him.

“Believe it,” she whispered. “Let’s skate.”

“Can you?”

“Apparently,” she said with a smile, “I can do anything.”

She could, actually, skate fairly well, but nothing like Brandon.

An hour or so later, after playing one-on-one hockey, which he let her win, and zipping around the pond holding hands, Hannah was completely breathless. They only stopped when so much snow had fallen, they couldn’t skate.

“Not bad, girl,” he joked, giving her head a playful rub as they walked back to the cabin. “And I can’t believe you found your way here.”

On a skating break, she’d told him about her adventure.

“I’m pretty proud of myself,” she said. “Not something I’d normally do.”

“Ah, the comfort zone. Always my place on the rink of life, too.”

She looked up at him, confused by the comment. “Is there a ‘comfort zone’ in a hockey game?”

“Not officially, but there should be.” He looked around, taking in the amount of snow. “I guess I can try to get you down the mountain in my truck, but you can’t drive a car now, even four-wheel drive. They’ll plow in the morning but not tonight.”

She drew back and looked around. “I’m stuck here?” Her voice rose as the realization hit.

“It’ll be fine,” he promised her. “You can have my room and all the space you need. I can make us dinner, a fire, and I have games and movies. Whatever you like. But please, don’t try to drive home in this. It wouldn’t be safe.”

She checked the steady snowfall and nodded. “Sure. I can stay.” After all, it was a day of taking risks.

“Had enough? I shouldn’t have told you about my highlight reel.” Brandon held up the remote and put the TV on pause. “I don’t have to relive my glory days.”

“But it’s so fun to see Number 75 whizzing down the ice. Finish this game.”

He rolled his eyes and hit Play. “Okay, but I’d rather play Scrabble again.”

“A little bit more.” She nudged him, wondering, not for the first time, if she’d ever sat on a sofa with Keith and watched a hockey game and not realized she’d been watching “Fletch” play for the Pittsburgh Penguins.

Suddenly, the screen went blank, the room went dark, and there was nothing but silence.

“Lost power,” he said, sounding resigned as he stood and walked to the fireplace. “Anyway, I made the goal.”

“Do you think you’ll miss playing?” she asked.

He hoisted some split firewood from the pile next to the hearth and tossed it onto the grate, causing a crackling spray of sparks and more flames.

“I was ready to get off the ice,” he said after a minute. “I’ve always known this place, this farm, was my future and I’m okay with that. I just…”

She waited, inching forward. “You just what?”

He held up a hand. “Don’t want to freak you out.”

“Freak me out? I am alone in a cabin with you, stuck in a house with no power. I think if I was going to be freaked out, it would have happened sometime between our delicious sandwiches, the Scrabble game where I kicked your butt with a bazooka —the word, not the actual thing—and the highlight reel.”

He smiled. “Fair enough but I would have won if you hadn’t stolen that triple-word score from me. I had quilted !”

She laughed, the echoes of their first few inside jokes already making her feel so comfortable with him. “Tell me. Nothing will freak me out,” she assured him.

Returning the poker to the stand, he wiped his hands on his jeans and sat down next to her. Not too close, but near enough that she could see a shadow in his blue eyes as he brushed back a lock of his hair and thought about what he had to say.

“I really want to be a tree farmer.”

“ Oookay. Why would that freak me out?”

“Because most girls—the ones I’ve met and liked over the past ten or twelve years, at least—aren’t very impressed by that.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “They are impressed by the NHL, however, and the bright lights of pro sports fame.”

She thought about the young woman who’d gotten engaged on TV and imagined that gorgeous creature seeking those bright lights.

“I’ve been serious with two really great women,” he continued. “Neither one of them could abide the idea that I’d be taking over my family’s tree farm, living a fairly rustic life in the mountains, and depending on what I’ve saved to build a future.” He angled his head and lifted both brows. “Tree farming is not the most lucrative business, but I can always teach the local boys how to play hockey.”

She took a slow breath, trying not to say what she was thinking—that the life he just described sounded like a dream to her. That she’d jump on the tree farm bandwagon so fast, she might topple the thing over. That he’d just articulated her…fantasy.

“With all due respect to those women,” she said, “who I’m sure were lovely and nice, they’ve never been to Copper Creek or the Blue Ridge Mountains or they’d know what they’re missing.”

“Actually, they were both here. Met my parents, saw the farm, and…” He chuckled softly at a memory. “My first ex—a New York runway model and Instagram influencer—ran kicking and screaming. No real surprise there.”

“And the other?” she asked.

“She was a little more open to the idea of living here—as a vacation home when we wanted to do ‘rustic.’ She assumed we’d live in my five-bedroom McMansion outside of Pittsburgh. She owned a very successful PR firm up there, so there was no way she’d consider being a tree farmer’s wife.”

“Oh, that’s a shame.”

He shrugged. “Better to find out before you’re married, right? Sorry, but what can I say? My heart is here, on this land, in this business, and that isn’t gonna change.”

And her heart basically folded in half. If she thought he was cute before, he just became…perfect.

Too perfect? Too good to be true? Too soon to even think these things?

She felt his gaze on her, searching her face, waiting for her response.

“Brandon, I’m a second-grade teacher at Copper Creek Elementary who grew up on this mountain,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I totally understand having your heart here and not in a five-bedroom McMansion.”

He blew out a breath, his eyes as warm as the fire. “Yeah, Hannah. You get it.”

For three, four, maybe five thudding heartbeats, they just looked at each other in the firelight, silent and barely breathing. Was it her imagination that electricity hummed even though there was a power outage? Was she dreaming that a connection was being formed during that long look?

“Well,” he said, suddenly a tad awkward as he slapped his thighs. “It could get very cold tonight. I have more blankets, but I’m going to recommend we sleep here in front of the fire to stay warm. I can take the floor and this baby”—he patted the worn leather sofa—“is next-level comfy. It’s all yours.”

She nodded slowly, reining in her emotions and just how much she wanted to take his hand, to kiss him, to tell him…she’d love to be a tree farmer’s wife.

“That sounds good,” she said, forcing a casual smile to cover the confession that she’d surely regret.

“And I want to call my parents and check on them,” he said, surprising her a little but underscoring what she already knew—he was caring, kind, and considerate.

“I’ll text my family, too,” she said. “Assuming I have a cell signal now.”

He disappeared into the other part of the cabin—presumably where his room was—then came out a few minutes later, laden with three more blankets and some clothes on the top.

“They’re fine,” he reported. “All tucked in and under blankets. I grabbed some sweatpants and a jersey, and some wool socks.” He gestured toward the clothes. “Feel free to change so you’re comfortable and warm.”

“That was thoughtful,” she said, taking the clothes but looking at him, thinking and wondering…did he even have a flaw? Of course he did. All men did. All people did.

But how long would it take to find it, assuming she was given a chance to look? Or was Hannah just setting herself up for another colossal disappointment that would hurt even more than the one she’d just endured?

He stilled his movements after a second and eyed her. “You okay?”

“I…I was just…” She shook her head, giving an uncomfortable laugh. “Never mind.” She pushed up. “I’ll go change.”

Holding the clothes tight to her chest, she slipped away into his undersized—and already freezing—bathroom and pulled the roomy sweatpants and a giant Penguins jersey over her clothes. Fuzzy socks on top of her own and she was…not exactly dressed for a date. But she was warm.

When she came out, she found the coffee table dragged to one side and two makeshift beds. One was on the sofa with a crisp white bed pillow and at least three fluffy blankets, and the other on the floor with one very old quilt and a throw pillow she’d seen on a chair.

“Your phone’s buzzing,” he said. “Might be someone from your family.”

“Many someones,” she said when she picked it up and skimmed the texts.

“Everybody okay?” he asked.

“My dad said the power’s out down there, too,” she said. “Noelle is totally freaking out, though.”

“That’s your cousin? I met her the other night, right?”

“Her aunt is married to my dad, so we have no idea what that makes us, but yes, you met her.”

“Why is she freaking out?”

“She’s in charge of the tree lighting in town and without power? Nothing lights.”

“Oh, my dad mentioned the new committee chair,” he said, nodding. “Now I get the connection—she’s married to Jace Fleming, right?”

“Yep.” She lowered herself to the sofa, sliding under the many blankets he’d provided. “Maybe your dad told you that Noelle wanted to light the tree with battery-powered LED lights, but at least one person on the committee wouldn’t let her. Now she’s scaring up generators and praying.”

“He did tell me, since I’ll be providing the tree solo next year. Yeah, old Edna likes things done according to tradition.” He turned to the fire and then got another log. “She better pray hard and get lots of generators. We got her a huge tree this year.”

Hannah winced. “Poor Noelle. If the event is a disaster, she’ll take it personally. Plus, there’s that…silly tradition.”

“About the old lady’s husband’s ghost, who shows up when the lights flicker at the bottom?”

“You know that?” Hannah laughed.

“Well, we provide the tree every year, so yeah, my dad told me.”

“There’s actually a very sweet story that goes with that,” Hannah said. “Apparently, that’s where Edna, the lady, and her husband had their first kiss, just when the lights came on. He called it their last first kiss.”

That made him smile. “Cute.”

“It gets better. Noelle and Jace had theirs at the tree, too, and both those couples were married six months later.”

“Huh. Now that, I never heard,” he said. “Sounds like a little Asheville Christmas magic.”

“Not this year, because there are no lights if there’s no power.”

“I might try to scare up another generator, if we can spare it.”

“Thank you. I’ll tell her.” She texted another note to the group chat and did her best to assuage Noelle with news of a possible generator loan.

“You really want to turn your phone off to save the battery,” he suggested, finishing with the fire and folding to the floor with his one thin blanket.

She did, snuggling deeper into her nest. “I don’t think the division of warmth was fair,” she said, fluttering the top covering. “Please take this?”

“And stay awake all night listening to your teeth chattering? Not a chance.”

She laughed softly, the echo of her earlier thoughts coming back as she studied his silhouette against the orange flickering flames.

He stared into the fire, quiet for a moment, the light catching the waves that brushed the collar of his sweatshirt.

What is he thinking about, she wondered. What really made him tick? Was he interested or just a player who knew that pretending to be “small town” would be all it took to get them under the blankets together?

He turned and caught her looking at him, his brow lifted in curiosity. “You look…uncertain.”

Oh, she sure was. Uncertain and a little terrified.

“I was just wondering…” She took a breath, trying to figure out how to ask all those questions, but she chickened out. “Why don’t you have a Christmas tree? Too much like work?”

He looked a little dubious, as if he didn’t for one second believe that’s what she was thinking about.

“No, I was going to get one, but…I don’t know.” He lifted a shoulder and glanced at the overstuffed bookshelf and well-worn furniture. “Decorating a Christmas tree alone? Hanging a star and some tinsel strands? No presents underneath? It’s just kind of sad and pathetic, don’t you think?”

She laughed softly. “Exactly why I don’t have one. But I decided I wanted one after all, which is why I came up here today.”

“Really? And here I thought you….I honestly thought you came to see me.”

“Well, I did,” she admitted. “Under the guise of getting a tree.”

“You didn’t need a guise,” he assured her, moving closer to the fire and rubbing his arms. “And I’ll find you a beauty tomorrow.”

“You’re cold,” she said. “Please take this blanket.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve spent the better part of my life on ice, so a little cold doesn’t bother me.”

She stared at him, still struggling.

“Honestly,” he said, misreading her expression.

“It’s not that, it’s…” She wrapped the blankets around her tighter, digging for the courage to be candid and raw. She could do this. She had to. “I’m just trying to figure out if you’re for real.”

“Me? Real?”

“You’re…a little too good to be true.”

He looked surprised by that, his lips lifting into a smile that curved the scar she was so used to, it had become familiar. “I’m not too good, Hannah. But I am true. You’ll never find anyone truer.”

She let out the softest whimper, suddenly aching just to hold his hand and be near him. That was all, just…to be close to him.

Without a word, she clung to her blankets and very, very slowly slid off the sofa, easing herself to the floor.

“Are you giving up the comfy couch?”

“I’m not giving up anything.” She reached behind her for the big pillow, laying it next to his little throw pillow. Then she spread out the three blankets over the one he had. “I’m offering…warmth.”

Holding her gaze, he exhaled and very easily slid under all the covers next to her. “And I’m accepting it. Thank you.”

Wordlessly, they lined up next to each other, not pressed together but close enough that the temperature instantly increased under the blankets. She curled up on her side, facing the fire, and he stayed behind her, respectfully not so much as putting a hand on her shoulder.

But she could feel his breath and the power of him, secure and safe.

They stayed like that for a long time, the only sound the fire crackling in the silent cabin.

As she closed her eyes and felt her whole body relax and start to drift to sleep, she heard the blankets move and felt him lean closer.

“Hannah?”

“Hmm?”

He lifted up a little, his mouth close to her ear when he whispered, “Why don’t we have our first kiss at the tree lighting and see if that folklore is all it’s cracked up to be.”

She inhaled softly, and the breath caught in her throat. Very slowly, she turned, so close she could have kissed him right then and there. But neither one of them moved. Instead, they just looked into each other’s eyes in the firelight and smiled.

“You sure you want to test the fates like that?” she asked softly.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

“Yeah. I’d like that,” she whispered the understatement of the century.

“Goodnight, Hannah. Sleep well.”

She turned back to the fire and closed her eyes on a sigh.

Was he too good to be true? Guess she’d find out tomorrow.

But tonight, for the first time in a long time, she felt nothing but the protective warmth of a man…who might be exactly what she’d been waiting for.