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When Lola walked out, she smiled down at him and patted his arm. “She’s a good girl.”
He didn’t have a thing to say to that. He couldn’t deny he was waiting around for Jo. He was.
“Walk an old lady home?” she asked.
He helped her into her coat and took her arm.
“Look at that moon.” Lola pointed up at the low-hanging full moon. “Isn’t it lovely?”
“Yes, ma’am.” It was a gorgeous night. And there was nothing quite like seeing the town square and courthouse all lit up with Christmas lights. All the trees surrounding the courthouse were wrapped with thousands and thousands of lights. Even to his eye, it looked magical. “I love this time of year.”
“Me, too, Hunter.” She peered up at him. “What do you want for Christmas this year?”
He laughed, taking her keys and unlocking her door. “I’m too old for that, Miss Lola.”
“Nonsense, Hunter. You’re never too old for wishing. I’ve got one or two things on my list, but I’m not telling.” She patted his arm again. “Thanks for the walk.”
“Thanks for all your work.”
“Josie needed a night out.” Lola smiled. “Guess it’s no secret I’m fond of that Carl Stephens.” She waved, pulling her door shut.
Hunter set off back down the street to the bakery when he saw Josie. She lay on her back, sprawled out on the lawn of the courthouse. He didn’t think—he ran. When he reached her side, he dropped to his knees.
She looked surprised. “Hunter?”
“What the hell are you doing, Jo?” he asked, his panic quickly replaced by irritation.
“I’m looking at the lights. All the colors. It’s like a giant Christmas kaleidoscope.” She patted the grass beside her. “Lie down, you’ll see what I mean.”
He shook his head but couldn’t deny the smile tugging at his lips. “Are you drunk?”
“Maybe. A little.” She giggled.
“It’s forty degrees. Too cold for relaxing outside,” he argued. “Where’s your coat?”
She sighed. “Are you going to lie do
wn or not? You’re blocking part of my view.”
He stared down at her. Her cheeks were red, her breath coming in puffs from the crisp air. Beneath the thousands and thousands of lights, her hair seemed to glow a warm and inviting red. She seemed to glow, so alive, so soft. It took everything he had not to touch her.
Instead, he flopped down on his back at her side.
“It’s cold,” he said.
“Hush. Open your eyes and stare straight up.” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. “See how the colored strands on the street shops bleed in around the edges of your vision?”
He stared up.
“Can you see it?” she asked, her hand nudging his.
Her fingers were icy cold, so he took her hand in his. He didn’t look at her or acknowledge that his heart was thumping. He held her hand and stared at the lights. And the colors seemed to bloom around the edges. “I see it.”
Her hand squeezed his. “Isn’t it amazing?”
“Yeah.”
They were silent for a while. Nothing but the sound of the wind through the trees, the slight clicking of the bouncing strands of lights. He could think of nothing sweeter than staying right here, touching her. But each gust of cold made it harder and harder for him to ignore she wasn’t wearing a jacket. And it was only getting colder.
