“Meaning we’re doing the heavy lifting,” Griff said.
“Exactly,” Nora said sweetly.
“I’ll handle the stock,” I said. “We’ll rotate from the main herd. Nothing too green for a crowd. The last thing we need is another runaway steer.”
“That was one time,” Kipp said.
“You nearly took out the mayor’s truck.”
“He was parked crooked.”
The room filled with noise again, laughter, chatter, teasing. Fred wrote something down in his neat block letters, mumbling about donations and insurance. Fallon was already trying to convince Tayla to handle concessions.
Kristin slid into the chair beside me, pulling a notepad closer. “If we start the kids’ events early, parents will stick around. Barrel race first, then pony rides, then the petting pen. That fills the gaps before the rough stock.”
Fallon nodded. “And it keeps the kids out of the beer garden.”
“Exactly.”
Kristin’s pen scratched fast, arrows and boxes covering the page. She bit her lip as she worked, that same habit she had when she was thinking too hard. I reached over and brushed my thumb along her jaw. Her skin was warm, her pulse quick under my fingers. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t lean in either.
“Don’t drift too far,” I said softly.
Her eyes lifted, tired but sharp. “I’m fine.”
“Sure.”
“You don’t have to babysit me, Linc.”
“Yeah, I do. It’s in the vows.”
That earned me the smallest grin. “Pretty sure ‘watch for unmarked trucks’ wasn’t part of the ceremony.”
“It probably should’ve been.” I laughed before I kissed the side of her head, making her blush.
Nora slapped a pile of papers down. “You two done flirting? We’ve got work to do.”
Kristin hid her smile behind her mug. “What’s next?”
“Volunteer sign-up sheets. We’re short ten people.”
Tayla tipped her chair back. “We could bribe them with pie.”
Fred nodded. “That works better than money.”
The laughter that followed carried higher this time, louder, easier. Griff started marking names, Fallon scribbled notes about who she could guilt into helping, and the room began to hum with purpose.
The longer it went on, the lighter the air became. Fear turned into planning. Worry turned into jokes. The sharp edges of the day dulled, replaced by something like hope.
Kipp tried to nominate himself as the decorating consultant, but Nora hit him with a balled-up napkin. “You can lift things. That’s your creative contribution.”
Kristin laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. It was the first sound from her that didn’t feel cautious.
Fallon and Nora started debating the arena lights, warm white versus colored. Tayla turned to Kristin. “You have taste. Break the tie.”
Kristin studied both piles of bulbs. “White,” she said. “Simple. Clean. Christmas should look like home, not Vegas.”
“Thank God,” I said. “Finally, someone I agree with.”
