Outside, faint music drifts in—the kind that none of us are ever able to place but know right away. It’s not the band’s music, but sleigh bells, distant, like an echo carried by the wind.

  16

  MARCO

  Nell bolts toward the guy, leaving Kennedy and me standing there. Andy—apparently that’s his name—wraps her up in his arms. Big guy. Broad. The kind of height that makes Nell tilt her chin up in a way that hits me right in the chest.

  “What on earth are you doing here?” she asks him, all soft and glowing, like he’s the first star in the sky at night.

  “I didn’t want to spend Christmas without you,” he replies, and hell, you can hear the sincerity in it.

  People start talking again, but it’s all fake noise—the kind that covers what they’re really doing. Every single one of them is listening with both ears and pretending they aren’t.

  I mean, that’s Sleepy Hollow for you—about as subtle as a brick wrapped in tinsel that you throw through a window.

  I know them. They don’t miss a thing. And they love the idea that their town has… moods. Magic, if you ask Mildred. Destiny, if you ask the tourists. Meddling, if you ask me. But whatever it is, it’s humming tonight.

  Right on cue, Mildred glides in from absolutely nowhere. One second she wasn’t there, the next she’s attached to Nell’s elbow like she teleported. “I assume you’ll need a room at the inn,” she coos to Andy, voice sugary enough to rot teeth.

  Andy gives her a polite smile. “If that’s alright? Do you have room for me?”

  “Oh, you sweet little thing. The Hollow always has room for one of Nell’s men.”

  And there it is again, that little shift in the air. That tiny pulling sensation low in my gut. Like the moment before a storm breaks or a song changes tempo. Kennedy feels it too; I can tell by the way he stiffens beside me.

  Outside, I hear sleigh bells. Not the band. Not anyone’s phone. Just… bells. Soft. Faint. Like they’re drifting past the windows on the wind.

  I’ve lived here my whole life. That sound only means one thing.

  Nell’s laughing with Andy, brushing snow from his coat. She doesn’t notice the watching eyes or the way the fairy lights flicker like a heartbeat overhead. She just stands there, centered between us all, and something in my chest settles.

  Or snaps.

  Hard to tell the difference.

  Kennedy lets out a slow breath. I swallow mine. And Andy, he breathes in Nell’s scent, shoulders relaxing as the wind blows in from under the door, swirling the snow around his feet.

  Because we both know it.

  Even if Nell and Andy don’t yet.

  Sleepy Hollow’s decided to do what it does best.

  “Well, if you want a room at the inn tonight, you four will need to get going before the storm gets any worse,” Mildred waves us over. “You know where the emergency key is, Marco. I’m going to stay with my sister in case she needs me.”

  “No problem, Milly. We’ll make sure Nell gets back safely,” I kiss her on the cheek, because if I don’t, she’ll lecture me later.

  Then I sweep past her and shoulder open the heavy barn doors. The wind blasts in immediately—sharp, cold, and full of glittering snow that whips across the lot like someone shook a snow globe too hard. The storm’s worse than it looked through the windows. The kind of night where the roads disappear in front of you and the sky feels too close.

  Behind me, boots scuff on wood. Kennedy steps up beside Nell, offering his arm like he was born to do it. “Shall we?”

  By the time we make it up the hill to the inn, everyone’s covered in a dusting of snow. Nell shakes herself off like a cat, laughing as Andy brushes flakes from her hair. Kennedy unlocks the door with Mildred’s emergency key.

  The place is warm, too warm considering no one’s been here all day. The fireplaces in the front lounge glow faintly. Lamps flicker on as though someone’s been expecting us.

  “Home sweet home,” I mutter, stomping snow from my boots and hanging my coat on the rack. Kennedy sheds his jacket, then crosses straight to the sitting area, grabs the remote, and clicks on the TV.

  The screen blazes to life with a weather alert banner flashing bright red.

  ‘Roads in and out of Sleepy Hollow have closed ahead of schedule. Record snowfall expected overnight.’

  Nell’s eyes widen. Andy comes up behind her, resting his hand on her back. “So, we’re snowed in?” she asks softly.

  Kennedy nods, but turns up the volume. “Looks like it.”

  I wander to the window, swipe the fog away with my sleeve, and peer out. The storm has practically swallowed the town whole—white swirling against the glass, thick enough that you can’t even see the town lights down the hill.

  “Yeah.” I let the curtain fall back into place. “We’re not going anywhere tonight.”

  Andy squeezes Nell’s shoulder gently. “We’ll make the best of it.”

  Kennedy shoots him a half-smile. “Guess we’re all stuck together.”

  And that’s when it hits me… that shift again.

  The kind you feel more than see.

  Like the air is waiting for us to catch up with something it already knows.

  Nell looks between us. Me by the window, Andy behind her, Kennedy in the glow of the fire. Her cheeks are still pink from the cold, her hair mussed from the wind. She should look out of place.

  Instead, she looks… right.

  Like she belongs here with us.

  17

  NELL

  We’re officially snowed in.

  It’s been a full day since Andy showed up at the Ho Ho Hop—completely unexpectedly—and right on cue, the local news announced a winter storm heading straight for the little town.

  Now the four of us are tucked inside together. Andy, Marco, Kennedy… and me.

  Outside the window, the world has turned into a postcard. Snow blankets everything, soft and glittering, piled almost high enough to touch the window ledge. The flakes keep drifting down in slow, dreamy waves, like they’re determined to make sure no one goes anywhere anytime soon.

  I wrap my arms around myself and stare out across the white-washed landscape. “Maybe,” I mumble to the glass, “if I look at it long enough, it’ll magically melt.”

  Behind me, Andy chuckles, the warm, familiar kind that always makes my shoulders relax. “What are you doing, Nell?”

  “Trying to convince the snow to take a hint,” I say, turning just slightly so he can see the smile tugging at my lips.

  He steps closer, hands tucked into his coat pockets, that gentle grin of his lighting up his whole face. “And is it listening?”

  “Not even a little.”

  Somewhere down the hall, I can hear Marco humming a Christmas tune under his breath, and Kennedy rustling through a stack of board games he found in the lobby. The fire crackles in the stone hearth behind us, filling the whole inn with a warm glow.

  Andy glances at the window, then back at me, eyes soft. “Could be worse, you know. Being snowed in with us? Sounds a little like Christmas magic.”

  Andy steps a little closer, the firelight painting a warm halo around him. Snow keeps drifting outside the window, wrapping the whole inn in a cocoon of white. For a moment, it feels like the world has paused just for us.

  “Nell,” he says gently.

  I turn toward him fully now, my breath catching when I see the look in his eyes, vulnerable, a little nervous… but sure. So sure.

  “I know this probably isn’t the perfect moment,” he admits with a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t plan on showing up in the middle of a blizzard or getting stuck in a tiny inn with half the town watching us.”

  “Believe me,” I say, “none of us planned that.”

  He smiles, but it fades slowly, replaced by something deeper. “But the truth is… I’m glad I’m here. With you. Even like this.”

  My pulse flutters. The fire pops behind him, a single spark jumping upward as if the universe is urging him on. He takes a step closer. “I came because I couldn’t imagine spending Christmas without you,” he almost whispers. “I thought maybe I was just being sentimental, or foolish, or… well, both. But the moment you left, I knew.”

  “Knew what?” I whisper.

  His eyes soften, all tenderness and certainty.

  “That I love you, Nell.”

  The words settle between us, warm as the fire, soft as the falling snow, and for a heartbeat, everything is still. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out at first. My heart is full, too full, and suddenly I can feel Marco and Kennedy’s laughter drifting from down the hall. Comforting. Almost as if all that Christmas magic that Mildred keeps talking about is real.

  Andy’s fingers brush mine, tentative. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs. “I just needed you to know.”

  “Andy…” I breathe.

  18

  ANDY

  “Andy…” she whispers, my name a fragile thing on her lips.

  I can’t stand the distance anymore. The space between the two of us feels like a continent. I guide her to a chair, and sink to my knees on the thick wool rug in front of her. The heat from the fire licks at my back. I reach out, my hand trembling just slightly, and cover hers where it rests on the armrest. Her skin is so soft. So warm.

  “I meant it, Nell. Every word.”

  She doesn’t pull away. Instead, her fingers turn, lacing through mine. I lean forward, giving her every chance to refuse me, to put a hand on my chest and push me back into the safe zone of friendship. She doesn’t. She meets me halfway.

  The first touch of our lips is hesitant, a soft, testing brush. It’s sweet, familiar, yet entirely new. Then something shifts. A low moan rumbles in my chest, and I deepen the kiss, my tongue tracing the seam of her lips. She opens for me with a sigh that feels like surrender, and god, she tastes like peppermint tea and everything I’ve ever wanted.

  My free hand comes up to cup her jaw, my thumb stroking the impossibly soft skin of her cheek. Her own hand releases mine to fist in the fabric of my sweater, pulling me closer. The chair creaks as I lean into her, the kiss turning from something sweet to something desperate, hungry. Years of pent-up longing pour out of me, into her.

  I break the kiss, both of us gasping for air. Her eyes are glazed, her lips swollen and beautifully red. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” I breathe, my forehead resting against hers.

  “Why didn’t you?” she whispers, her voice husky.

  “I was scared of losing you.”

  Her answer is another kiss, fiercer this time. She tugs at my sweater. “Off. This needs to be off.”

  I practically rip it over my head, tossing it somewhere into the dim room. Her hands are on my chest immediately, her palms flat against my skin, fingers splaying over my pecs. Her touch is electric. “You have no idea,” she murmurs, leaning in to press an open-mouthed kiss to my collarbone. “How many times I’ve thought about this.”

  Her admission unleashes something raw in me. I stand, pulling her up with me. My hands go to the hem of her ridiculously cozy, ugly-Christmas-sweater, and I look at her, a final question in my eyes.

  Her answer is a sharp, eager nod. “Yes.”

  I lift it up and over her head, and the world stops. She’s wearing a simple lace bra beneath it, and the sight of her, bathed in firelight, steals the air from my lungs. Her breasts are full, her waist narrow, her skin glowing. “You’re beautiful,” I rasp, the words utterly inadequate.

  I back her toward the sofa until her knees hit the edge. She falls back, looking up at me with a mixture of desire and trust that makes my head spin. I follow her down, bracing myself over her, and claim her mouth again as my fingers find the clasp of her bra. It gives way easily.

  When I look down at her, bare to the waist, I have to just… stare. To memorize this. The perfect curve of her breasts, the dusky pink of her nipples, already pebbled tight. I lower my head and take one into my mouth.

  She cries out, her back arching off the bed, pressing herself deeper into me. I swirl my tongue around the taut peak, sucking gently, then with more pressure. The sounds she makes are driving me insane—little gasps and breathy moans that are better than any music. My hand finds her other breast, kneading, thumb circling her nipple in time with my mouth.

  “Andy… please…”

  Her pleading undoes me. My hand slides down her stomach, over the soft cotton of her leggings, and presses against the heat between her legs. She’s so warm there, even through the fabric. I can feel the dampness, the proof of her wanting. I rub my palm against her, a slow, firm pressure, and her hips jerk, seeking more.

  “Tell me what you want,” I growl against her skin, my lips traveling down her stomach.

  Her hands are in my hair, gripping tight. “You. I want you.”

  That’s all I need. I hook my fingers into the waistband of her leggings and her panties and pull them down in one swift motion. She kicks them off, and then she’s completely bare, open to me. I settle between her legs, spreading her wide. The scent of her arousal is intoxicating. I don’t wait. I don’t tease. I lower my mouth to her.

  The first touch of my tongue to her core wrings a shattered cry from her lips. She tastes like heaven, like sin, like home. I lick a long, slow stripe through her wetness, savoring her. Her thighs tremble on either side of my head. I find her center, that perfect, swollen bud, and focus all my attention there, sucking and licking with a rhythm I know will unravel her.

  She’s bucking beneath me, her pleas becoming incoherent. “Oh god, right there, don’t stop, please don’t stop…”

  I slide two fingers inside her, and she is so tight, so impossibly wet and hot. I curl them, finding that spot deep within her that makes her scream. I work her with my mouth and my hand, feeling her body coil tighter and tighter, a spring about to snap.

  Her climax hits her like a freight train. Her entire body seizes, a raw, guttural sob tearing from her throat as she shudders around my fingers, her hips grinding against my face. I ride it out with her, gentling my touch until the last aftershock fades.

  I kiss my way back up her body, her taste still on my lips. She looks wrecked, beautiful, her eyes hazy with pleasure. Her hands are frantic now, fumbling with the button of my jeans. “I need to feel you,” she pants, her voice rough. “Now.”

  I kick off my jeans and boxer briefs, my erection springing free, hard and aching. I reach for the nightstand, fumbling in the drawer for the condom I’d stashed there with a desperate, foolish hope. I sheath myself, my hands shaking.

  I position myself at her entrance, the head of my cock pressing against her incredible heat. I look down into her eyes. “Nell?”

  Her answer is a roll of her hips, taking the first inch. A sharp, mutual gasp fills the air. She’s so tight, so perfect. I push deeper, slowly, letting her stretch to accommodate me, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. There is none.

  When I’m fully sheathed inside her, we both go still for a moment, connected completely. The feeling is overwhelming. Her legs wrap around my waist, locking me to her. “Move,” she pleads. “Please, Andy, move.”

  I withdraw almost all the way, then thrust back in, setting a slow, deep rhythm. The slide is exquisite, a friction so intense it borders on pain. Her nails dig into my shoulders. Every thrust punches a moan from her lips. I can feel the tension building again inside her, her inner muscles beginning to flutter around me.

  “Look at me,” I rasp, and her eyes, heavy-lidded with pleasure, find mine. “I love you.”

  It pushes her over the edge. Her second orgasm crashes over her, her body clenching around me like a vice, milking me, pulling my own release from me. With a guttural groan, I bury myself deep inside her as I come, my vision whiting out at the edges, my entire world narrowing to the feeling of her, around me, beneath me.

  I collapse on top of her, spent, both of us slick with sweat and breathing ragged. The fire pops. The wind still howls, sealing us in our own private universe.

  I’m still inside her, softening, and she makes a small, contented sound, her arms tightening around my back. I nuzzle into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent mixed with mine.

  Her voice is a sleepy murmur against my ear. “Don’t you dare try to be just friends after that.”

  A laugh, rough and happy, escapes me. I lift my head to look at her, at the blissful smile on her face. “Not a chance.” I brush a stray curl from her damp forehead.

  19

  KENNEDY

  Marco and I back away, trying not to let them know we heard them, then head back into the kitchen.

  We give them time… plenty of it. If she’s happy, that’s all that matters, and selfishly, it makes me wonder what else this storm might change.

  Eventually, Marco appears with an armful of ancient games from the shelf in the lobby. He blows the dust off the top of one. “If we’re going to be stuck here much longer, we might as well make it entertaining.”

  “How?”

  “Loser does a dare?”

  I shake my head. “That’s tame even for you, Marco.”

  Marco smirks as if I just walked right into his trap. “Loser loses a piece of clothing?”

  I choke on a laugh. “That was your idea all along, huh?”

  He shrugs like he’s innocent. “I’m being your wingman. You’re the only one who hasn’t slept with Nell yet.”

  “Wh—” I choke. “When did you?”

  “The grotto.”

  “Lucky bastard.”

  He stacks half the games in my arms. “C’mon. Let’s go interrupt the love birds.”

  We head back to the living room, the storm howling against the windows. Marco knocks lightly against the door, and a beat passes before Nell answers. “Come in!”

  We step inside, both of them flushed and glowing. I lift the board games higher. “So,” I say, “who’s in the mood for a game with some slightly higher stakes?”

 

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