Page 84 of Feel It in the Air

22

MARGEAUX

“I could kill those kids,”Dolly mutters, fiddling with the spout of the large, insulated beverage dispenser. “It’s one thing that I spend my entire Thanksgiving in charge of hot drinks at the Gobble Wobble and Tree Lighting, but to have to extend this. Seriously, if I see them tonight, I can’t promise I’m not going to leap over this table and strangle them.”

I grimace, the visual of her hurling herself over this table in pursuit of some small child a little too vivid. I can’t say that I disagree with her frustration though.

The panic that spread through all those involved during setup last week when it was discovered that the baby Jesus was missing from the church’s nativity set was something straight out of a movie. To the point where most of the Hayes boys and both the Keller twins weren’t convinced that he was actually missing. That is, until it was almost show time, and there was still no tiny Lord. And the nativity scene isn’t quite the same without its star.

At one point Bronwyn pointed out that it would be more accurate to leave the manger empty at this point in the story, allowing the event to go on as planned and giving everyone more time to try and locate the missing piece. But Reverend Terry wasn’t having it.

“I still don’t understand why you agreed to set up cocoa for this,” I tell her. “Seems like more work than it’s worth.”

“Because Reverend Terry asked, and gave me these puppy-dog eyes telling me that he wanted this to be just as special as it usually is as part of the tree lighting, and I’m not trying to piss off the man who is performing my wedding in five months.” She sighs, the heavy exhale deflating her entire body. Still messing with the spout, her face scrunches, her frustration escalating. “And damn it, I grabbed the one with the broken spout. Ugh, and I don’t have enough time to go back and get the other one⁠—”

“Doll,” Hux’s voice cuts her off, the both of us whipping around to see him strolling over.

No, strolling isn’t the right word. Because there is nothing easy about the way Huxley Hayes is moving right now. He’s a man on a mission, his solid frame stomping toward us, leaving Gus, Jace, and Ewan in his dust.

“Is that the one with the broken spout I still need to fix?” he asks, not skipping a beat. Dolly nods, not bothering to look at him, still staring at the offending serving equipment like she could chuck it. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll make this work.”

Gathering her in his arms, Hux presses a kiss to the top of her head, holding her for a moment. My insides squeeze, the tenderness between them so pure and sweet that you can’t help but swoon. Even if it is platonic.

I stand and watch, my inner romantic silently wishing that there was something more to what I’m witnessing. Gus slides up next to me and slips his arm around my waist, drawing me into him, the heat from his body welcoming me home. Right where I belong. Next to him.

“Hey pretty girl,” he whispers, a chaste kiss delivered to my temple.

“Hey yourself,” I return, snuggling into him.

Hux turns to Jace and Ewan, still holding Dolly while giving them orders, with the juxtaposition of his gruffness with them versus his gentleness with her shining bright. The two do as he barks, not questioning him.

“Can I ask something about this?” I nod toward the scene playing out in front of us. Gus raises an eyebrow, his curiosity clearly piqued. “Why did he hesitate last week? At Friendsgiving. After that call, he started to go after her, but he stopped. Didn’t go in the house. Why?”

“Because if he’d gone inside, he wouldn’t have been able to keep a promise he made to himself.”

The answer rolls off his tongue like he knew what my question would be. Too bad it only half answers mine though. I start to follow up, wanting to know more about this promise, but Gus has another idea.

“Wanna go make out behind the church?”

I look up at him, a little taken aback by his question. “In the cemetery?”

Gus chuckles, squeezing me. “I was thinking the swing set over on the library side. I know how you’re afraid of ghosts.”

I shove at him playfully, earning me another laugh. “I am not afraid. I⁠—”

“Believe in giving them the space and respect they deserve,” he says with me.

My tummy does somersaults, loving that he remembers my carefully crafted statement to obscure my fear. Not for the first time, I feel like Gus gets me. Really, truly, deeply gets me. All I can hope is that someday I’ll get him the same way.

“I could go for that.”

He kisses my forehead again, keeping it PG since we’re at a town event. The fact that he’s touching me like this at all is already scandalous and pushing it, sending a rush through me.

Every part of me wants to curl into him, climb him like a tree, and claim him as mine, right here, right now. But I know I can’t. I know what a bad idea that would be. So I settle for walking alongside him, close enough that our hands brush up against each other every couple of steps, but not close enough that we look suspicious.

“Congratulations on your new project,” he says as we weave our way through the crowd of people milling around the town monument that sits in the middle of the square across from Hickory Hills Baptist.

“Thank you. I’m still a little in shock,” I gush.