“At least you’re enthusiastic?”
“Ah, enthusiastic: both bad and loud.”
He rolled his eyes with a smile. “I’m trying to say your lack of self-consciousness is refreshing.”
She shrugged, but smiled at the compliment. “I think singing’s one of those things, like dancing, that we’re meant to do—whether or not we’re any ‘good’ at it. Anyone who says otherwise probably has something invested in keeping us miserable.”
He studied her with a tilted smile. “That makes a lot of sense.”
They reached Merchant Alley and lingered, realizing it was well past time to part ways.
“Well, I need to browse for a few last-minute gifts for my cousins,” said Gavin with a clear of the throat. “How about you?”
Rowan shrugged. “Killing time until the parade…Probably also by browsing.”
He lowered his face briefly to the ground before looking up again. “Would you like to browse together, then? I still need to shop for my cousins, and your advice might help me avoid committing a major Christmas faux pas.”
“Oh, sure.” She couldn’t disguise her surprise at the suggestion. “Always better to have company than to, uh, not…And it avoids that awkward moment where we say good-bye but walk to the same places and have to pretend we don’t see each other.” Her words came out in a nervous rush full of random gestures, but if he noticed, he said nothing, only nodded as they pressed on.
They passed a booth selling roasted nuts in cone-shaped paper cups. The scent of honey and nutty flesh frying sent Rowan’s mouth watering, and her stomach let out an unsubtle growl.
“Are you going to get some?” asked Gavin. Apparently, her longing had been that obvious.
She shook her head and bit her lip. “There’s so much food back at the house.”
“Sounds like a good excuse to share.” He stepped up and bought a bag of honey chestnuts, holding the bag her way.
She palmed a handful, appreciating how they popped betweenher teeth in a rush of crunchy sugar and creamy fat. Letting out an indelicate moan, she clamped a hand over her mouth and laughed.
“That good?” asked Gavin with a twitch of the lips.
“Mmm-hmm. You should try one,” she said as they neared the public house, an open-air tavern where people could grab an adult beverage to enjoy over one of the many glowing firepits inside its walls.
But as Gavin’s hand stretched out, there was an audible gasp from a nearby crowd. One of the public house’s wooden name plates swung through the air in a wide arc, scattering revelers who’d lined up to get their IDs checked.
A familiar face worked to calm down the crowd—Calvin “Cal” Arthur, a longtime festival employee.
“Cal,” said Rowan, jogging over.
“Rowan!” he said, sparing her a pleased glance. “Good to see ya, kid. And is that Gavin?”
“Cal,” said Gavin with a warm nod.
“This thing still giving you trouble?” asked Rowan.
“Oh, y’know it,” said Cal, and then he went back to apologizing to a woman who had nearly been beaned in the head.
Rowan inspected the back of the sign. Nothing had broken, but the fasteners were weak, and it had a way of slipping out of place. She pushed it up, trying to get the eyes back onto the hooks that should have held it aloft, but they were well out of her reach. When it became clear that wasn’t working, she scanned the area for some kind of pole to push it up with.
“Can I help?” Gavin was suddenly there, standing close.
Right—he was probably tall enough to reach. She’d gone into problem-solving mode, forgetting other people existed and were sometimes useful.
“You need to snag the catches on those metal hooks,” she explained. “Which you won’t be able to see, so I’ll do my best to navigate.”
He hoisted it upward, and she tracked his progress, ready to provide corrections. As he lifted, his sweater drifted upward with his arms, exposing a strip of smooth, muscled abdomen.
“Rowan? Is it where it needs to be?”
