“Fine, you’re a sturdy palm tree. But either way, if you get too cold, we’ll head home for hot cocoa. Promise me you’ll tell me.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, glancing up at the choir. They’re already near the center of the square. “We better catch up. I don’t want to get on Anita’s bad side.”
He laughs, but it sounds a little forced. “Everyone is on Anita’s bad side. The best you can hope for is neutral territory.”
Still, he slides his arm around my back as we walk toward the group.
It’s just for show.
I’m still mortified I thought he was going to kiss me, but I try to focus on the positive—he’s being playful. Maybe it’s pretend, but it’s better than the distance and animosity that’s been between us since the car ride to his parents’ house. I need to hold onto that.
The choir is gathered in front of a ridiculous bronze statue of two Revolutionary soldiers, frozen in mid-argument—one clutching a musket, the other awkwardly holding a pumpkin. Fresh Christmas wreaths hang around both their necks. I’m sure there’s a story there. I plan to ask Valerie about it later. If she’s an archivist at the historical society, she seems to be the most likely person to know it.
The carolers are belting out the second verse of “Silent Night” with some amazing harmonizing. Fred scowls as we move to the back of the group.
Alex starts singing and my jaw nearly drops. His voice is rich and strong. I can carry a tune, sure, but no one’s inviting me to audition for any girl bands.
By the time we finish “Silent Night” and launch into “O Come, All Ye Faithful”, a small crowd has gathered, dropping money into a basket I hadn’t noticed.
We carol down the block to a hotel, stopping in front of that hotel, then another, our voices trailing through the streets and echoing off the buildings. Guests crack open their windows to listen, and people gather on the sidewalks. For the first time in ages, warmth bubbles in my chest brighter than the twinkle lights strung across the square.
I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy.
And then Alex goes and ruins it.
Chapter Eleven
Alex
I can’t believe I’m caroling. I hate caroling—wandering around like we’re in a Dickens novel, only with phones in our hands instead of warm coals, singing cheesy songs. It sounded like a good idea when I suggested it at home—at least for about two seconds. But then we got here, and I saw how excited Finley was—how in awe of something I always took for granted. Then I noticed the falling snow clinging to her hair—she looked angelic.
I stared at her, awestruck, that I’ve known this woman for nearly two years, yet I never really noticed her.
And then I almost kissed her.
Thank God I came to my senses and tugged her hat down instead.
What is wrong with me? I’ve spent the last six years perfecting control and in less than three hours, I’m losing it.
But there’s something about her that draws me to her. Is it her wide-eyed wonder? The way she lights up over small things? Whatever it is, it pulled me closer—and I almost kissed her.
That would have been a freaking disaster.
Finley made the platonic line very clear—many, many times. Roland thought she was playing a game of hard to get. “The lady doth protest too much,” he’d said with a weaselly smile.
I’d told him if he said it one more time, I was going to punch him in the face.
To my surprise, he believed me.
Even more surprising was that I meant it.
I told myself I was only worried Finley would hear him and change her mind. I tried to ignore that it was six p.m., we were in our office, the coffee shop was closed, and Finley had probably left for her job at the hospital hours earlier. Unless she had superhero hearing, she’d never know.
But I find myself oddly protective of her, which is totally unlike me. I keep telling myself that even if she gave me the impression she wanted more, I’d turn her down. Finley’s the kind of woman who wants forever. Even if she agreed to a fling, I suspect it would end in disaster. And then where would I get my morning coffee?
Maybe the so-called Christmas magic of Hollybrook was trying to sway me, but thank God I came to my senses and tugged her hat down instead.
But it’s still troubling.
