“The sound that makes every bad day better.”
My stomach did a traitorous flip. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” he said, handing me a spoon, “but admit it. You like ridiculous.”
I stared at him, words caught somewhere between denial and truth.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
The chili cook-off might’ve been chaos, Lydia might’ve been merciless, and I might’ve sworn I was immune, but standing there next to Drew, surrounded by snow and laughter and the smell of woodsmoke, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time.
Happy.
And maybe a little scared of just how much that mattered.
By the time Lydia climbed onto the small stage near the riverbank to announce the chili cook-off results, the sky had turned the color of ghosts, and the snow had started falling in thick, determined flakes.
People huddled closer to the heat lamps and under the tents, clutching their mugs of cider and cocoa. The whole festival glowed with lights reflecting off the falling snow, laughter carried on the wind, and the faint, spicy scent of chili hanging in the air.
I rubbed my hands together, breath fogging in front of me. “This town really does everything like it’s trying to win a competition.”
Drew, standing beside me with his sleeves rolled up and snow dusting his hair, grinned. “Well, lucky for them, I am the competition.”
I gave him a look. “You realize if you actually lose, the barista down the lane is going to gloat for the next decade, right?”
He sighed dramatically. “Yeah. Losing to Riley, who froths milk for a living? That’s bad for business.”
“Not flirting with every female in line would’ve been better for business,” I said, arching a brow.
He turned that infuriating grin on me. “Thatwasfor business.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re not even denying it?”
“Why would I?” he said, leaning in a little. “They flirt, they tip. It’s a system.”
I rolled my eyes so hard I saw snowflakes. “You’re disgusting.”
“You’re jealous.”
“I’m cold,” I snapped. “And you’re insufferable.”
“Still sounds like a compliment.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Lydia’s cheerful voice boomed from the speakers. “All right, everyone! It’s time to announce the results of this year’s Reckless River Chili Throwdown!”
The crowd erupted into applause, and I swear even the snow paused to listen.
Lydia held up two slips of paper. “In second place, by only two votes… Bean There, Done That Café!”
A chorus ofooohsand good-natured laughter rippled through the crowd.
Drew groaned under his breath. “It’s close.”
“Maybe you should’ve flirted harder,” I muttered.
He shot me a sidelong glance. “You think I should’ve flirted with you more?”
“Don’t push it.”
