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“You… arranged this?” I glanced at the crowd and added in a whisper, “In public?”
His eyes warmed and softened. “Did you think I just happened to be strolling around in this getup, baby?”
“I… I don’t know,” I said weakly. “I thought maybe I’d started a trend.”
Hunter’s brilliant grin would have stolen the breath from my body if I hadn’t gone breathless the moment I saw him. “Maybe you have. Wouldn’t be the only thing you changed when you came back to town.”
Tears pricked behind my eyes. “Don’t you dare make me cry, Hunter Jackson.”
“Gonna try not to.” He took a deep breath and grabbed my hand tightly in his. “When you went away fifteen years ago, Charlton Nutter, you took something incredibly precious to me. Not, as it turns out, my prize turkey—”
I clapped my free hand to my mouth to cover my snort-laugh.
“—but something way more important. You took… yourself. Your kindness. Your intelligence. Your humor. Your friendship. And I understand why you had to leave. I even understand why you stayed away. I can’t regret those years—they made you the man you are today, and I like that man too much to wish I could change a thing—but having you back made me realize just how much I’ve missed you. How much time I spent being angry with you when I should have simply been with you. How many jokes I’ve told without getting to hear you laugh at them. How many foolish things I’ve done without seeing you roll your eyes at me. How many times I’ve gone ice-skating without you falling on top of me. How many Thanksgivings have passed without you at my table. Hell, how many cups of coffee I’ve drunk without even knowing how you take yours—”
“With oat milk!” a voice in the crowd called.
Hunter’s gaze flicked over my head for an instant. “Thank you, Savannah,” he said solemnly. “That’s helpful.”
I laughed behind my hand again, but when Hunter’s eyes turned back to me, he set down his sign and captured that hand too.
“I don’t want to miss you anymore, Charlie Nutter. Not another day, not another moment that I don’t have to. I want you back. In my life. In the Thicket. And I want everyone in the whole damn town to know it. I’ll spell out JUNIOR COME BACK on Amos’s cows if I have to—”
“Oh, honey, please don’t,” Joanie Brightly said from the crowd. “I beg you.”
“God,” I whispered, voice trembling. “Hunter, I—”
He squeezed my hand. “Now, I know you’re probably not ready to move back here now. Maybe… maybe not even anytime soon. And I’m not generally a, uh, patient man—”
“Just ask anyone who’s ever been in front of him at the stop sign on Collins Road,” my cousin Ollie agreed. “Man lays on the dang horn.”
Hunter shot him a baleful look. “Jesus Christ. I’m trying to make a goddamn romantic gesture here, for fuck’s sake, Ollie.” He blew out a breath. “What I was saying was I’ll try to be patient, Charlie. Because I don’t want you to feel pressured. I don’t want you to change your life around for me. I just want you to know this is what I want. You are what I want, and—”
I took one final step forward and grabbed his face before bringing my mouth to his and laughing into the kiss.
“You stole my heart, too, you turkey,” I murmured against his warm lips. “I was coming over later to tell you I wanted to stay. If you’ll let me… let me try to be a part of your life, that would be even better. I know it’s quick, too quick, probably, but I’m done doing the cautious, stable thing when it means I don’t get to be with the people I care about—”
It was Hunter’s turn to interrupt with a kiss, this one with his arms—and feathers—wrapped tight around me and the sweet heat of his mouth so overwhelming it was nearly enough to drown out the reactions of the people around us.
“Wait, what’d Charlie say?” Uncle Amos demanded. “Turn up the volume, boy!”
“If he said no, he’s letting my Hunter down real easy,” Lurleen said exultantly. “You know, I think it was my reverse psychology that turned the tide.”
“Are you kidding?” Alana demanded. “If I hadn’t provided the turkey costume, none of this would’ve happened. Merry Christmas, Mom. You’re welcome.”
“I like to think it all started with our niceness bet,” my mother sighed. “You can stop kissing him now, Charlton. You won, sweetie. The prize of your choice.”
“How about making a nice big donation to the Castration Society in Charlie’s name?” Emmaline suggested. “Castration is what brought them together, after all.”
Hunter and I opened our eyes simultaneously in horror and began laughing too hard to kiss effectively, but that was no hardship. Standing in Hunter Jackson’s embrace, laughing about the ridiculous town we loved, was almost—almost—as fun.
