My CHRISTMAS BRIDE

Outside Noise

Morning light spilled into Natalie’s old bedroom, spilling across the faded floral wallpaper and catching dust motes in lazy motion. For a moment, she didn’t move. She lay cocooned under her grandmother’s quilt, staring at the ceiling, listening to the silence.

It was different from the city. There, mornings were a rush of car horns, barking dogs, and the endless whir of traffic. Here, Evergreen Falls offered quiet—almost too quiet. A quiet that left room for her thoughts, and those weren’t exactly welcome.

She turned on her side and pulled the quilt higher, trying to shut out the memory of Jason’s face as he’d mumbled his too-late apology, the stunned hush of the guests, the way her mother had held her arm like she might collapse.

Stop. Don’t go there.

She squeezed her eyes shut. But silence only made the thoughts louder.

And then—

Thud. Bang. Whrrr.

Natalie bolted upright. A hammer striking wood, a drill buzzing, footsteps above her.

She blinked. No—outside her window.

Seriously?

Frowning, she shoved the quilt aside and padded to the dresser for sweatpants, then paused. Why bother? It wasn’t like anyone was coming in here. She pulled on socks, tugged at the hem of the old, oversized T-shirt she’d slept in—her high school’s faded logo stretched across the front. Go Bears! The letters were cracked and peeling, but somehow the shirt had survived a decade and four moves.

The hammering started again, sharper this time.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, yanking her hair into a messy ponytail.

She stormed out of her room, down the narrow staircase, and through the hallway, ignoring the smell of cinnamon rolls drifting from the kitchen. Whoever thought it was a good idea to wake up the entire neighborhood with construction noise at eight in the morning had another thing coming.

Natalie threw open the front door, bracing against the crisp December air. The cold slapped her bare legs, but irritation fueled her more than the chill.

The noise came from the side of the house. She marched across the frosted porch, crunching down the path until she craned her neck upward.

And froze.

A man was perched high on the roof, crouched near the gutters. A tool belt hung from his waist, and a tangle of glowing Christmas lights draped over one arm. His shoulders were broad beneath a thick flannel shirt, his movements steady and practiced.

Natalie planted her hands on her hips. “Excuse me! Hello?”

No response.

The man adjusted the string of lights, pulling them taut, then reached for the staple gun clipped to his belt.

She raised her voice. “Hey! Some of us are trying to sleep!”

Still nothing.

That’s when she noticed the headphones—sleek, black, and large, covering his ears completely. Noise-cancellation, probably. He was in his own world.

Natalie groaned. “Oh, for crying out loud.”

She stomped closer until she was standing right at the base of the ladder leaning against the house. She cupped her hands to her mouth. “I said, excuse me!”

The man didn’t even flinch.

Frustration flared hot in her chest. Here she was, standing outside in December in nothing but socks and a high school T-shirt, yelling like a madwoman at some guy too wrapped up in his task to notice.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered again.

Finally, he shifted. He tugged the last section of lights into place, clipped the staple gun back to his belt, and stood, stretching his back. Then he bent to pick up the coils of spare lights, gathering them over one arm.

And turned.

Natalie’s breath hitched.

It wasn’t just some guy.

It was Marcus Carter.

The boy who used to chase her down Main Street with snowballs. The teenager who kissed her once—only once—behind the skating rink the night before she left for college, and then never spoke of it again. The man she hadn’t seen in nearly ten years.

He was older now, of course. His jawline is sharper, dusted with stubble. His dark hair was a little longer, windswept under the wool cap pulled low on his head. But the eyes—when they met hers, startled and then slowly widening with recognition—were the same deep brown she remembered.

For a long, breathless moment, neither moved.

Then Marcus tugged off his headphones, letting them rest around his neck. “Natalie?” His voice carried down with a mix of disbelief and something else she couldn’t name.

Natalie’s mouth opened, then shut again. Words scattered like startled birds in her mind. She managed only one.

“Marcus.”

The sound of his name on her lips felt strange, heavy with years.

He descended the ladder slowly, each movement deliberate, as though he weren’t entirely sure she was real and might vanish if he moved too quickly.

Natalie’s heart hammered as she crossed her arms, trying to mask the sudden rush of nerves with annoyance. “You woke me up, you know. Some of us enjoy sleeping past sunrise.”

A crooked smile tugged at his mouth. “It’s nine-thirty, Nat. Hardly sunrise.”

The nickname fell from his lips with such ease, it made her stomach flip. Hardly anyone called her that anymore.

Natalie shifted her weight. “Well, I didn’t know you’d taken up… roof work.”

“Roof work?” His brow quirked. “It’s called hanging Christmas lights.”

She gestured vaguely toward the ladder. “You could have mentioned it. I thought the house was falling apart.”

“Sorry.” He adjusted the coil of lights over his arm. “Your mom asked me to help out while you were… while you were away.”

Natalie’s throat tightened. “Of course she did.”

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the crunch of snow beneath Marcus’s boots as he stepped closer. He studied her, his gaze lingering briefly on the faded high school shirt.

“You kept that old thing?” His smile widened. “Thought you swore you’d burn it after graduation.”

Natalie tugged at the hem self-consciously. “It was the only clean shirt I had. Don’t read into it.”

He chuckled, low and warm, and the sound rippled through her chest like it had all those years ago.

Natalie forced her arms tighter across her chest, as though she could shield herself from the past threatening to crash down around her. She hadn’t expected this—not today, not like this. Seeing Marcus was like opening a door she’d carefully locked years ago, only to find the key had been in her pocket all along.

And from the look in his eyes, he felt it too.

⸻

The back door creaked open, and her mother’s voice rang out cheerfully. “Oh, good! You two found each other.”

Natalie jumped, heat rushing to her cheeks.

Marcus glanced toward the door, then back at her, his smile softer now. Almost cautious.

Linda stepped onto the porch, wiping flour from her hands. “Natalie, you remember Marcus, of course. He’s been a lifesaver around here. Fixing things, putting up lights… keeping me from climbing ladders I have no business climbing.”

Chapter 3

“Yeah,” Natalie said, her voice a little too tight. “I remember.”

Marcus’s gaze flickered toward her, unreadable.

Her mother beamed, oblivious to the storm crackling in the space between them. “Well, don’t just stand there freezing, Nat. Come inside. Cinnamon rolls are ready, and Marcus, you’ll stay for breakfast, won’t you?”

Marcus hesitated, his eyes never leaving Natalie’s. Then he nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”

Natalie swallowed hard, caught between wanting to retreat into the safety of her room… and the undeniable pull of the man standing before her.

Christmas in Evergreen Falls, it seemed, had just become far more complicated than she’d imagined.