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He clicked his tongue and gave the reins a gentle shake, and the horses started forward, their bells jingling merrily as the sleigh glided smoothly over the packed snow. Behind them, he could hear Mabel calling out last-minute instructions to the other teams, but her voice quickly faded as they turned onto Main Street and headed toward the residential areas.

The town looked like something out of a Christmas card, even with the damage that remained. Every surface was covered in pristine white snow, and icicles hung from eaves and gutters, catching the sunlight and throwing off tiny rainbows. Smoke curled from the chimneys of houses that had fireplaces, and Christopher could see people out shoveling their driveways or clearing their porches.

Beside him, Layla was silent, but he could feel her taking it all in. When he glanced over, he found her staring at the scenery with an expression that made his heart squeeze in his chest.

She looked… enchanted. There was no other word for it.

“Okay,” she said finally, her voice soft with wonder. “I’ll admit it. This is pretty magical.”

Christopher grinned. “Wait until we get out to the countryside. It gets even better.”

As they left the main part of town behind and headed into the more rural areas, the landscape opened up into rolling hills and dense forests, all of it transformed by the snow into something stunning. The only sounds were the jingle of the harness bells, the soft crunch of the runners on snow, and the occasional snort from one of the horses.

Their first stop was a small farmhouse set back from the road with a long driveway that hadn’t been plowed. Christopher guided the horses up to the front porch, and before he could even set the brake, the front door flew open and three children came tumbling out, followed by their mother.

“Oh, thank goodness!” their mother called out as she came out behind them, her face breaking into a relieved smile. “We’ve been without power since last night, and I was just wondering how I was going to feed everyone lunch.”

Christopher and Layla climbed down from the sleigh, and he retrieved two large containers of soup from the back. “This should be enough for all of you,” he said, handing them over. “And if you need more, just let Mabel know.”

“Thank you,” she said, her eyes actually welling up with tears. “Both of you. This is—you have no idea how much this means.”

The children were more interested in the horses, crowding around them with delighted exclamations. Christopher kept one eye on them to make sure they didn’t spook the animals, but the horses stood patiently while small hands patted their noses and stroked their manes.

Layla crouched down to talk to the youngest child, a little girl who couldn’t have been more than four. “Do you like the horses?” she asked, her voice gentle.

The girl nodded shyly, then whispered something Christopher couldn’t hear.

Layla laughed—a real laugh, warm and genuine. “I think they’re pretty too,” she said. “Like something from a fairy tale, right?”

Christopher felt something shift in his chest, something warm and tender that reminded him, once again, that he was in trouble.

They made their way through the list of stops, and at each one, the pattern was the same—grateful families, relieved to have hot food, children excited by the horses, and a feeling of having done something that mattered to the community of Fir Tree Grove. And at every stop, Christopher found himself watching Layla.

He watched the way she interacted with the families, no longer distant or reserved, but genuinely engaged. She asked about their needs, listened to their stories, and laughed at their jokes. She helped shovel snow at the houses that asked for help with it with the same determination she brought to everything else. She accepted cookies and hot chocolate with gracious thanks, and more than once, he saw her blinking back what looked suspiciously like tears when families expressed their gratitude.

This was the real Layla, he realized. Not the guarded, cynical woman who’d arrived in Fir Tree Grove, but this one. Kind and compassionate and clearly more sensitive than he would ever have thought. And he was falling for her. Hard.

They were about halfway through their route when they pulled up to a modest house on the edge of town and found they weren’t the first to arrive. A familiar truck was parked in the driveway, and Christopher spotted Nolan McCoy on the front porch, methodically stacking firewood.

Nolan was… well, Nolan. He could be gruff, taciturn, with a dislike for Christmas that went against the core of the town. But Christopher knew that beneath that withdrawn exterior was someone who showed up when people needed help.

Christopher guided the sleigh up to the house and climbed down, Layla following. Nolan glanced up from his work, gave Christopher a brief nod, then went back to stacking wood.

“Nolan,” Christopher greeted him, grabbing the soup containers for this stop. “Didn’t expect to see you out here.”

“Someone’s gotta make sure these folks stay warm until the power’s back,” Nolan muttered, not looking up. He placed another log on the growing pile. “Can’t have them freezing in their own house.”

Christopher chuckled, not at all bothered by Nolan’s brusque manner. “Appreciate you pitching in,” he said sincerely. “The town’s lucky to have you.”

Nolan waved him off with one gloved hand, but Christopher could have sworn he saw the corner of the man’s mouth twitch upward. “Get on with your deliveries,” Nolan said. “Plenty of people still needing soup, I’m sure.”

“Will do,” Christopher promised, grinning.

As they returned to the sleigh, Layla leaned close and whispered, “Is he always like that?”

“Pretty much,” Christopher confirmed, helping her back up onto the seat. “But he’s got a good heart. He just doesn’t like people making a fuss about it.”

Layla glanced back at Nolan, who was still working on the woodpile, she smiled. “I think I understand that,” she said quietly.