Chapter 5: Mistletoe Mishaps
1150 Words
Decorating Duty
The air inside the Chalet Inn buzzed with energy as volunteers shuffled in and out, lugging boxes of decorations, strings of lights, and bundles of holly. The annual Christmas decorating party was in full swing, and Claire found herself roped into hanging garlands in the inn’s lobby.
“Higher, Claire!” Sophie called from across the room. She stood on a stepladder, attempting to secure a row of twinkling lights along the balcony railing. “It needs to look like Santa himself lives here.”
Claire, balancing precariously on a chair, grumbled under her breath. “I’m a photographer, not an elf.”
Sophie flashed her a grin. “Well, you’re doing a great impression.”
Adrian strolled in at that moment, a steaming mug of cocoa in hand. He paused to survey the scene, leaning casually against the doorframe. “This looks... dangerous.”
Claire shot him a glare. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
“Nope,” Adrian said, taking a sip of cocoa. “This is way more entertaining.”
Before Claire could retort, Sophie waved him over. “Adrian! Perfect timing. We need you to help with the mistletoe.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Mistletoe?”
“Yes, it’s tradition,” Sophie said matter-of-factly. “There’s a spot right above the entrance. Here.” She handed him a sprig of mistletoe and gestured toward the doorway.
Adrian smirked, taking the sprig. “You sure this isn’t some elaborate matchmaking scheme?”
“Who, me?” Sophie asked innocently, batting her lashes.
A Perfectly Placed Trap
Claire climbed down from her chair just as Adrian positioned the mistletoe above the front entrance. She glanced over at Sophie, whose sly grin immediately made her suspicious.
“What are you up to?” Claire asked.
“Nothing!” Sophie said, her voice a little too cheerful.
Moments later, Emily bustled into the lobby, carrying a tray of peppermint bark. “Alright, everyone, time for a snack break!”
Claire sighed in relief and moved toward the tray, her focus solely on snagging a piece of chocolate.
“Careful, Claire,” Sophie called. “You don’t want to miss the mistletoe.”
Claire froze mid-step, glancing up to see Adrian leaning against the doorframe beneath the sprig of greenery. He followed Sophie’s gaze, then looked at Claire with a grin that practically screamed *challenge accepted.*
“No way,” Claire said, backing up.
“It’s tradition,” Sophie said, her grin widening.
Claire glared at her. “You’re evil.”
“Come on, city girl,” Adrian said, straightening up. “It’s just a kiss.”
Claire’s cheeks burned as she crossed her arms. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Probably,” Adrian admitted. “But rules are rules.”
The small crowd of volunteers gathered around, their cheers and whistles growing louder.
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
Claire groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me. ”
Adrian stepped closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You want me to be a gentleman and let you off the hook?”
Claire lifted her chin. “I don’t need your chivalry.”
“Good,” he said, his voice dropping to a playful murmur.
For a moment, the world seemed to slow. Claire became acutely aware of how close he was, the scent of pine and cinnamon clinging to his coat. She held her breath, unsure whether she wanted him to take another step or stay exactly where he was.
Then, just as Adrian leaned in, Abby darted between them, holding a candy cane and grinning.
“Mom says you have to let me decorate the tree next!” Abby declared.
The crowd burst into laughter, and Adrian stepped back with a chuckle. “Saved by the kid.”
Claire exhaled sharply, her cheeks flaming. “Great. Thanks, Abby.”
“You’re welcome!” Abby chirped, completely oblivious.
The Aftermath
Later that evening, Claire retreated to the inn’s kitchen, desperate for a moment of solitude. She leaned against the counter, sipping a mug of tea and replaying the almost-kiss in her mind.
Sophie appeared, holding a plate of cookies. “You okay, Grinch?”
Claire shot her a look. “Don’t call me that.”
Sophie grinned, setting the plate down. “What’s wrong? You didn’t enjoy your moment under the mistletoe?”
“There was no moment,” Claire said firmly.
“Not for lack of trying,” Sophie teased.
Claire groaned, setting her mug down. “You’re the worst.”
“You’re welcome,” Sophie said, popping a cookie into her mouth. “But seriously, Adrian’s not so bad, you know.”
Claire snorted. “He’s smug, annoying, and way too cocky for his own good.”
“And yet, you were blushing pretty hard back there.”
Claire opened her mouth to argue but closed it again, unsure how to respond.
Adrian’s Confession
The next day, Claire found herself back in the village square, supervising volunteers as they hung ornaments on the giant Christmas tree. Adrian appeared beside her, his hands stuffed in his coat pockets.
“Morning,” he said casually.
Claire glanced at him. “Shouldn’t you be avoiding me after yesterday?”
He chuckled. “Why would I do that? It was fun watching you squirm.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”
Adrian grinned but said nothing. For a while, they worked in companionable silence, watching as the volunteers transformed the square into a festive wonderland.
Finally, Adrian spoke. “You know, I wasn’t always a fan of this stuff either.”
Claire raised an eyebrow. “What, Christmas?”
He nodded. “My mom used to go all out—decorations, carols, the works. I thought it was over-the-top, but she loved it. After she passed... it felt wrong to celebrate without her.”
Claire blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected vulnerability in his voice. “I’m sorry.”
Adrian shrugged. “It’s better now. Coming here—seeing how much this town cares about the holidays—it kind of brought back the magic.”
Claire studied him, unsure how to respond. For the first time, she saw past the smug exterior to the person underneath.
“Well,” she said softly, “maybe it’s not so bad, then.”
Adrian smiled, a genuine, unguarded expression that sent a flutter through her chest.
That evening, as Claire walked back to the inn, she found herself thinking about Adrian’s confession. He was still infuriating, of course, but maybe—just maybe—there was more to him than she’d given him credit for.
As she climbed the inn’s front steps, she glanced up at the mistletoe still hanging above the doorway. She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“Not today,” she muttered, stepping inside.
- Writer
