“That’s the goal.” Noah smiled. “I knew you’d get it.”
Eli ignored the warm flush up his neck.
“So…” Noah passed Eli another hook. “How long have you been back in town?”
“Since Thanksgiving.” Eli stretched to secure a strand. “I came up for the holiday. My sister lured me into indentured seasonal service. For a month.”
“Aileen’s been doing that to people for years,” Noah said. “She once convinced me to deliver muffins to every business on Main Street in a snowstorm as a ‘marketing strategy.’”
“That sounds like her,” Eli said with a fond huff. “She’s weaponized hospitality.”
“I respect that.” He paused. “You left Mapleford for college, right?” When Eli blinked again, he smiled. “Elsie wasn’t the only one who went to school with your sister.”
Yeah, I remember.
Eli struggled to keep his voice even. “Yep. Boston. I never really looked back. I went there for school, then stayed for work.”
“You didn’t want to live here?”
“I didn’t fit,” Eli said simply. “I was the quiet art kid. Everyone else was into sports and bonfires and talking about the best way to chop down a Christmas tree. I wanted to draw and watch foreign films and not go to church.”
Noah made a thoughtful noise. “I was the theater kid who cried at choir concerts. Mapleford’s not big on subtlety, but it’s gotten better.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Noah said. “We’ve got a Pride picnic now. And a drag brunch once a year that nearly killed Mayor Johnson, but she survived.”
“That actually sounds sort of impressive,” Eli admitted.
“It’s a good town. Messy and noisy and loud, but good.”
“You sound like their PR department.”
“I might be.” Noah’s eyes gleamed. “They pay me in cocoa and moral support.” He inclined his head. “So what’s your line of work?”
“Freelance graphic design. Logos, branding, whatever people will pay me to put color on.”
Noah passed him another hook. Their fingers brushed again, Noah’s warm and calloused, and another quick little spark lit Eli up.
He spent the next thirty seconds trying not to think about that.
“You like it?” Noah asked.
It took Eli a moment to join the dots. “Design? Yeah.” He hesitated. “Freelance… is rough right now. AI is cheaper than I am. Clients love that.”
Noah made a face. “AI can’t make things that feel as if people made them.”
“Tell that to my inbox.”
“I will,” Noah said. “Give me their email addresses.”
Eli laughed, surprised. “You’d fight my clients for me?”
“I’d strongly word an email,” Noah said in an indignant tone. “Nobodygets to tell you your work’s not worth paying for.”
Something in Eli’s chest shifted. Compliments were one thing; belief was another.
“You’re not here just for the festival, are you?” Noah said quietly.
