Around us, the festival buzzed on with laughter, music, and the faint smell of gingerbread drifting through the air. But in that moment, all I could see was her standing there, hair tousled, cheeks pink, eyes bright, alive.
I realized then that whatever wall she’d built between us wasn’t as solid as she thought.
There were fissures now.
Tiny ones, sure, but enough light was getting through to make me believe we weren’t done.
Not by a long shot.
I handed her the mangled pine branch she was still gripping. “Souvenir?”
She blinked down at it, then started laughing all over again. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But I’m also the guy who saved you from a killer squirrel, so you’re welcome.”
“It was one pound and terrified.”
“Exactly. Terrifying.”
“Unbelievable,” she said, shaking her head as she walked off toward Lydia’s booth, still laughing.
And I stood there, watching her go, snow melting into my collar, heart beating way too fast for a man standing in a pile of slush.
Because for all the laughter and chaos, I couldn’t stop thinking about that moment in the snow with her breath, her warmth, the way she’d looked at me like maybe the ground wasn’t the only thing that had shifted beneath us.
Yeah. Reckless River wasn’t the only thing heating up today.
Chapter Nine
If there were an Olympic event for pretending you weren’t flustered, I’d be taking home the gold.
Because as far as the rest of Reckless River was concerned, the greatSquirrel Incident of 1:17 P.M.was just another adorable holiday mishap. People were still chuckling about it as Lydia herded volunteers toward the chili cook-off tables, and I was doing my best to laugh along, even though my brain was still somewhere back in that snowbank with Drew.
I could still feel the heat of him, even through the layers of coats and scarves. The solid weight of his chest against mine, the sound of his laugh in my ear, the way he’d looked at me afterward…half amused, half something else I couldn’t name.
If I thought about it too long, I’d combust.
Lydia, of course, didn’t miss a beat.
“Well,” she said, looping her arm through mine as we walked toward the town square, “you two certainly gave the crowd a show.”
I groaned. “Please don’t start.”
“Oh, I’ve already started,” she said, grinning. “It’s all over the festival. People are calling itThe Great Squirrel Attack of Reckless River.You’re a legend.”
“Wonderful. Maybe I’ll get a plaque.”
“‘In honor of the woman who screamed so loud she gave a poor squirrel a heart attack.’”
I groaned again, pulling my scarf up to my nose. “I’m headed back to Seattle.”
Lydia laughed, steering me toward the long row of tables set up for the chili cook-off. “You can’t. I need you to help with this first.”
I stopped. “Define help.”
“Serve samples. Smile. Pretend you’re not secretly plotting my demise.”
I gave her a look. “You know I’m terrible with customer service.”
