Page 6 of First Kissmas
Other guests sit at various tables, their quiet conversations creating a peaceful atmosphere. The smell of coffee and warm food fills the air. Ryder and I find seats at a small table near the window, where we have a clear view of our snowy surroundings.
Mrs. Miller brings us plates piled with eggs, bacon, and fresh biscuits. My stomach growls at the sight. I can’t remember the last time I had a proper breakfast that wasn’t eaten standing up, rushing to avoid my brother’s morning interrogations.
I try to focus on my food, but my attention keeps drifting to Ryder. I keep looking at the strong line of his jaw, the careful way he holds his coffee cup, the different shades of colors in his eyes. The air between us feels charged with unspoken questions.
“You mentioned you make lamps?” I ask, needing safer ground.
He smiles and nods. “I design custom lighting. Started with smaller pieces, but now I get commissions for restaurants, hotels. Last night I was delivering some table lamps to a new bed and breakfast in Hawthorne.”
“What made you get into lamp-making?”
“I’ve just always been good with my hands.” He takes a sip of coffee. “Back in high school, I spent most of my free time in the woodshop. Something about creating things from scratch just clicked with me, and when I discovered I had an eye for design too, it all came together.”
His passion for his work shines through in his voice, drawing me in. I want to know more about this life he’s built for himself. “Do you have a shop in town?”
“No, I work from my place up on the mountain. It’s quiet there. Peaceful.” He pauses. “Just me and my workshop.”
“No family?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
“Nope. Been on my own for quite a while now.” He says it simply, no weight to the words. “Suits me better that way.”
Something about his self-contained life calls to me—the freedom of it, the peace. No one watching his every move or questioning his choices. I wish I could tell him about my own life, about why I understand the appeal of solitude. But the words feel too heavy, too fresh.
After breakfast, Ryder says he’s going to check with Mrs. Miller about any help she needs with the snow. I follow, drawn by his thoughtfulness, wanting to help too.
We find her in the kitchen, organizing supplies.
“This isn’t my first winter storm,” she says. “And I won’t have my guests working. What you two should do is relax. I’ve got board games, cards, books—everything you need for a cozy snow day. And I’ll be baking Christmas cookies later. I expect both of you to help taste-test.”
The thought of a quiet day playing games, eating cookies, and watching the snow sounds like something from another life. A better one. One where I’m not constantly looking over my shoulder.
I glance at Ryder, finding him watching me. The warmth in his eyes makes me wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.
Mrs. Miller directs us to an antique cabinet in the corner of the dining room. Inside, board games fill the shelves, their boxes well-worn and loved.
“What do you think? Should we play Monopoly?” Ryder asks, picking up one of the boxes.
“That could be fun.” Then I spot another game behind it, and my heart skips. The Game of Life. I reach for the familiar box, remembering evenings before my parents died, all of us crowded around the coffee table, my mother’s laughter filling the room. “Actually, would you mind playing this instead?”
“Life?” He smiles. “Haven’t played this since I was a kid.”
We settle at a small table near the window. As I set up the board, delicate snowflakes dance past the glass. Ryder picks the blue car, and I choose the red one.
“College or career path?” I ask.
“College. Might as well rack up that debt.”
I laugh, surprising myself with how natural it feels. We spin the wheel, move our pieces, fill our tiny cars with pink and blue pegs for children. Ryder ends up with twins, which makes him groan.
“Double the daycare costs.”
“At least you got that doctor salary.”
“True. Though somehow you’re still beating me with your teacher’s salary.”
“It’s all about strategy.” I land on another space. “Ha! Pay raise.”
For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel light. Free. Like I’m just a normal girl playing a board game with a sweet guy, no fear or shadows hanging over me.