I grinned. “You love it.”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she bent over the wreath again, but her hand brushed my knee under the table. Just an accident, probably, but the contact hit like a live wire.
We both froze.
Her gaze lifted slowly, meeting mine. The air between us went electric.
“Melanie,” I said, voice low.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t make it weird.”
“Too late.”
Her laugh broke through the tension, breathless and warm. “You’re such a pain.”
“Yet you keep finding me.”
“Because you keep showing up.”
I leaned in closer, close enough that a few strands of her hair brushed my cheek. “Maybe that’s not the worst thing.”
She looked up at me through her lashes, eyes dark and shining. “You really shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because people might start believing you mean them.”
I smiled. “What if I do?”
That earned me silence—real, unsteady silence. She stared at me like she was trying to decide whether to run or stay.
Then Lydia’s voice cut through the moment. “Well, would you look at that!”
We jumped apart like guilty teenagers. Lydia stood a few feet away, hands on her hips, eyes twinkling. “That’s the best-looking wreath I’ve seen all morning.”
I looked down. Somehow, we’d managed to finish it without realizing. The pinecones, glitter, red ribbon, the whole deal, all done without even knowing it.
And right in the middle, tucked between the branches, was a little heart-shaped piece of twine that definitely hadn’t been part of the plan.
Melanie’s eyes widened. “That wasn’t—”
“Oh, it’s perfect,” Lydia said, snapping a picture with her phone. “We’ll hang it at the front gate.”
Mel groaned. “Please don’t.”
“Too late,” Lydia said cheerfully, already walking off with it.
I watched her go, then looked back at Melanie. She was trying very hard not to smile.
“Accidental symbolism?” I teased.
“Coincidence.”
“Sure it is.”
