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They continued on, making their way through the remaining stops on their list. With each delivery, Christopher felt the connection between them growing stronger. They worked together like they’d been doing this for years instead of hours, the day moving smoothly and far too fast for his liking.
By the time they finished their last delivery, the sun was beginning its slow descent toward the horizon. The temperature had dropped several degrees, and Christopher could see Layla shivering slightly despite the blanket.
“Come here,” he said, adjusting the blanket so it covered her more completely. “We’ve got about a thirty-minute ride back to town.”
Layla settled deeper into the seat, pulling the blanket up to her chin. “I can’t believe we did all that,” she said, her voice tinged with amazement. “Twelve families. All that shoveling. And everyone was so… grateful.”
“That’s what this town is all about,” Christopher said, guiding the horses onto the road that would take them back toward town. “People taking care of each other. Especially when times are tough.”
Layla was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was softer. “I’ve never experienced anything like this before.”
Christopher wanted to say something, wanted to tell her that she could have this, that she could be part of this community if she wanted. But it felt like too much, too presumptuous. Too soon, probably, he thought. And she hadn’t said anything about staying.
The sleigh glided smoothly over the snow, the horses settling into a comfortable pace. Around them, the winter landscape stretched out in all directions in fields of white, forests of dark evergreens, the occasional farmhouse with smoke curling from its chimney.
It was beautiful and peaceful, and perfect.
Gathering his courage, Christopher did something he’d been wanting to do all day. He reached over and took Layla’s hand.
For a moment, she went very still, and Christopher’s heart stuttered in his chest. Had he misread the signals? Had he moved too fast? But then, slowly, her fingers curled around his, making his heart soar.
She shifted closer to him on the seat, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body through their layers of clothing. Her head came to rest against his shoulder, and Christopher had to remind himself to breathe.
It felt like what he had been waiting for.
They rode in silence for a while, the only sounds the jingle of bells and the soft crunch of snow. Christopher was acutely aware of everywhere they touched—her hand in his, her shoulder against his arm, her head on his shoulder. He never wanted this moment to end.
“The snow sparkles bright on the rolling hills,” Layla said suddenly, her voice quiet but clear. “Like a veil of ice and crystal chill…”
Christopher glanced down at her, surprised. “Are you… making up poetry?”
He could feel her smile against his shoulder. “Maybe. I used to do it all the time when I was younger. Before I got too busy.” She paused, then continued, her voice taking on a rhythmic quality. “The jingle bells sing festive songs, while snow settles where it belongs.”
Christopher felt his chest tighten with emotion. This felt like a gift, seeing Layla so relaxed and freely herself. As the lights of Fir Tree Grove came into view ahead of them, Christopher found himself wishing the ride could last longer. He wished he could freeze this moment in time—Layla’s hand in his, her head on his shoulder, her voice soft as she created poetry from the thin, wintry air.
He wished that it could be a beginning, instead of something drawing to a close.
The horses knew they were close to home, and their pace picked up slightly. Christopher guided them through the streets of town, past houses decorated for Christmas, past the town square where the enormous tree stood sentinel, past all the places that had become so familiar to him over the years. Everything looked brighter, somehow, than it had in years, because Layla was sitting next to him, seeing it all with pleased eyes for the first time.
As they pulled up in front of the Snowdrift Diner, where Mabel and a few others were waiting to help unload the empty containers and tend to the horses, Christopher felt Layla’s hand tighten in his for just a moment before she reluctantly let go.
She sat up, pulling away from his shoulder, and he immediately missed her warmth. But when she turned to look at him, her eyes were shining with something that made his breath catch.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For inviting me along. You didn’t have to let me be a part of this. It meant a lot.”
Christopher wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to thank him, that spending the day with her had been the best gift he could have asked for. He wanted to tell her that he was falling for her, that she’d somehow managed to work her way into his heart without him even realizing it was happening.
But Mabel was already approaching the sleigh, calling out questions about the route and the families they’d visited, and the moment slipped away.
He knew that whatever had changed between them, it was something real.
But he didn’t know if there was anywhere it could possibly go.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The warmth of the Snowdrift Diner wrapped around Imogen comfortingly as she stepped back into the diner, her cheeks still stinging from the cold. The scent of fresh coffee and cinnamon hung in the air, mingling with the rich aroma of Jackson’s famous apple pie, and she couldn’t help but smile, happy to be back with everyone else after finishing her rounds of deliveries with Lincoln. She could hear a low hum of conversation and laughter coming from the back corner booth where the other women had already gathered, all of them looking tired but satisfied with the day’s work.
Imogen unwound her scarf from around her neck, glad as she took another deep breath of the deliciously-scented air that her queasiness had started to subside. She had a different kind of flutter in her stomach now, and she pressed a hand against her abdomen, feeling the secret she carried there like a precious gift waiting for just the right moment to be revealed.
