"There she is," Carol said, pulling Riley into a hug. "We're going to head home. I've got a million things to do before tomorrow night."
"Tomorrow night?"
"Christmas Eve dinner. You didn't forget, did you?"
"No, of course not."
Carol gave her a look that said she knew Riley absolutely had. "Grant and Thomas are coming, right?"
Riley's brain was still foggy from the storage room. "I—yes? I think so?"
"We are," Grant said, appearing at her elbow looking perfectly composed except for the slight flush still visible on his neck. "Wouldn't miss it, Mrs. Monroe."
"Please, call me Carol." Her mother beamed at him. "Six o'clock. Don't be late."
"Yes ma'am."
Riley watched her mother look between her and Grant, taking in their proximity, the way his hand had found her lower back again, the way they were both still a little flushed. Carol's smile turned absolutely delighted.
"You two have fun tonight," she said, and there was definitely subtext there. "Not too much fun."
"Mom," Riley groaned.
But her parents were already leaving, her dad clapping Thomas on the shoulder and wishing him a merry Christmas.
Riley turned to Grant once they were gone. "She knows."
"Of course she knows. We look like we just?—"
"Don't finish that sentence."
Grant grinned. "Was going to say'made out in a storage room.'"
"Still not finishing it where people can hear you."
The party continued around them—cookies being exchanged, donations being made, ugly sweaters being admired and mocked in equal measure. Riley and Grant stayed for another hour, mingling and helping clean up, acting like responsible adults who definitely hadn't been feeling each other up in a closet.
By the time they left, Riley's cheeks hurt from smiling and her sweater had finally stopped blinking, the battery dead.
Grant drove her home through streets lined with Christmas lights, his hand warm in hers over the center console.
"That was fun," Riley said.
"Which part? The fundraiser or the storage room?"
"Both." She squeezed his hand. "Mostly the storage room."
"We could finish what we started," Grant offered, his voice low and promising.
Riley's entire body voted yes, but she shook her head reluctantly. "I should probably get home. And you should too. Tomorrow's Christmas Eve."
"Practical."
"One of us has to be."
Grant pulled into her parents' driveway and walked her to the door, something he’d started doing recently. The porch light was on but the interior lights all seemed to be out.
Riley started to say goodnight, then noticed the mistletoe hanging above the door.
