She stops, one side of her lips higher than the other, deep in thought. "When is Ridge going to hire a Marine?"
Bennett tilts his head, shaking it side to side. “Never.”
Anessa turns her back to him and smiles something devilish, letting us all know she’s messing with him.
“Be careful. If you rile him up, he won’t let any of us back in here,” Spencer dishes out his warning with one eyebrow lifted, but then laughs when Anessa’s eyes widen.
"He's right," Bennett says, shaking his head before he walks back into the kitchen.
"Trust me. I have no plans to find out." Anessa passes over two pink bakery bags to Spencer, who hands one to me.
Inside there's a fluffy white sugar cookie in the shape of a Christmas tree decorated with green frosting and round, red sprinkles. How did we ever live without Anessa's baked goods before she moved to town?
"Have fun at the parade and a Merry Christmas." She waves good-bye as Spencer shuffles me out the door, making room for the next person in line.
"This is crazy," he says once we’re back on the sidewalk. Frankie pulls on her leash, trying to jump on more people before I tug her back. "I didn't know this many people lived in Pelican Bay."
"Oh, they don't." I laugh as a young kid in a black hoodie bumps Spencer as he hurries by. Spencer stands taller, pushing his elbows out to give himself room. "People come from all over to watch our Christmas Eve parade. It’s Pelican Bay’s biggest event.
The sidewalk is filled with people. The congestion slows down our pace as we walk by people standing on the sidewalk, chatting. There’s a lull in the crowd, and Spencer uses the opportunity to wrap his arm around my shoulder. It makes walking with a leash, cookie, and hot chocolate a tad difficult, but I’m too enamored to care. “Where to now?”
I swing the hand holding the leash back and forth, enjoying the moment. "Now, we find a spot to sit."
My family always watches the parade from a spot on Bay View since the road runs next to the public beach. It’s an ideal location. You can see the water behind you, our large lighthouse to the north, and a great view of the floats as the parade comes down Main Street with the well-maintained storefronts as a perfect backdrop.
But, I can’t take Spencer there. My mother and father have undoubtedly been in their chosen spots for the last hour. Nothing short of an airborne strike would make my mother leave her prime parade spot. Not even hearing her daughter is here with a big, tall, hunky SEAL.
And while I love my mother—she did raise me, after all—I really like Spencer, which means he should stay mysterious for longer. I don’t know him enough to subject him to a parent meet-and-greet. Plus, she is bound to ask questions about how we met one another, and sooner or later, I’ll have to explain the dead guy.
"We can stop here," I say when we reach the corner of Main and Second Street. It's far enough away none of my family already gathered by the beach can see us, and we should still have a good view.
We lean against the brick building behind us. Spencer drops his arm from my shoulder and opens his bag from the bakery.
He takes out his light-blue-frosted snowflake sugar cookie and bites off one of the ends, chewing quickly. "So now we watch the parade?"
"Yes."
"Because its tradition?" He takes another bite of his cookie.
"Yes. Of course."
Frankie sits down on the space between us, content to watch people as they walk by. “The bakery opened less than a year ago. How is a sugar cookie from Anessa tradition?” Spencer asks, shoving the last bit of the cookie into his mouth.
I scoff. “Traditions grow. She’s a part of the town now.”
A large gust of wind off the water blows down Main Street. I huddle behind Spencer, using his large chest as a wind block. It works surprisingly well.
The minutes tick down, getting closer and closer to the start of the parade. With each passing second, my eyes dart back and forth in search of any topic to break up our silence as we both stare into the crowd and people watch. I can't think of a single thing besides the question that's clawing to get out. And that’s not one I’m going to ask…ever.
With eight minutes to go until parade time, I stomp my feet in a halfhearted attempt to keep them warm—one I know never works, but I continue to try.
Seven minutes until parade time, I count the people wearing red hats. The shades and patterns are all slightly different, but it's obvious L.L. Bean had a special pattern in the catalog this year.
At six minutes until parade time—it’s a curse this town runs everything on time. Haven’t they ever heard of starting something early? I blow out a large breath, the tendrils becoming steam in the cold air.
Spencer smiles down at me, his lips stretched out into a full, happy grin. "Are you okay?"
With less than six minutes to go until parade time, I lose my ever lovin' cool in front of Spencer.
