Marissa looked around them. She wondered how many other teams had figured out the clue and found the next one. No one appeared to be interested in what they were doing. People nearby were enjoying sipping beers and munching on bar snacks.
“What’s the clue?” Marissa felt jittery. She wasn’t sure if it was from the anticipation of finding the next clue, the rushing water throwing her off-balance, or just being around William.
William pulled up the app on his phone. “There’s a winter snowflake banner secured to the boulders on the far side of the river. It says, ‘Santa wants to see your selfie.’”
“Are we supposed to take a selfie? Is that the paparazzi piece we’re missing?”
“I think so.” William handed her his phone. “Look, it says ‘upload the photo here.’”
“And Santa wants to see it.”
“That’s what the banner says.” William put out his arm. “Shall we?”
Marissa posed with him, trying to calm the whooshing in her stomach by taking slow, deep breaths.
“Say cheese.” He nudged her waist. “Or, should I say, Yes, Cheese?”
She couldn’t help but smile.
While William uploaded the photo, Marissa thought about the next clue. “The Santa breakfast is tomorrow. That must be it.”
“Isn’t that for little kids?”
“Yeah, but if Santa wants toseeour selfie, that’s the most likely place to find him.”
“Smart thinking, Grazing Table.”
Marissa’s cheeks warmed at him using the first nickname he’d given her.
“What do you say, since we’re already here, you want to grab another pint and a bite to eat? I’m starving. It’s been a long day, and it doesn’t sound like we can do anything else until we track down Santa tomorrow.”
She hesitated. First and foremost, because her bank account didn’t support dinner and drinks out every night, she didn’t want William to pay for her again, and she wasn’t sure spending more time with him was the best idea.
“Look, that table just emptied, and it’s right underneath a heater. It’s a sign. Let’s grab it.” William didn’t wait for her answer. He grabbed her hand and dragged her in that direction.
One drink and whatever was cheapest on the menu wouldn’t hurt, would it?
She sat across from him and rubbed her hands together.
“Do you want my gloves?” William was already removing a glove. “If it’s too cold out here, we can find a table inside.”
“No, I’m fine.” She flipped open the menu, happy for a distraction from how his eyes studied her face with gentle concern. There was a roasted red pepper and tomato soup that fit her price point.
“Do you want another holiday winter ale?” He handed her the gloves anyway.
“Sure.” They were too big for her, but the heat from his hands still radiated inside the gloves, so she tugged them tighter.
“Can I admit something to you?” He rested his chin in his hands and leaned closer. “I feel intimidated trying to decide what to order with you here.”
“Why?” Marissa scrunched her forehead.
“Well, you’re a foodie. I saw your catering skills at my parents’ party. I feel like you will be judging me on whatever I order.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m totally judging you.”
“So, I shouldn’t get the mushroom burger?” William made a face and ducked like he was anticipating a blowback.
“Noooo, noooo.” Marissa stretched out her words and shook her head. “Bad choice.”
