They grabbed the box of wreaths and headed down Main Street, hanging them on each lamppost. It should have been simple. Quick.
But then Riley had to reach for a high hook, stretching up on her toes, and Grant had to steady her with a hand at her waist.
And suddenly it wasn't simple at all.
"Got it?" he asked, his voice rougher than it should be.
"Almost." Riley stretched higher, and Grant's hand tightened reflexively.
She hooked the wreath and stepped back—directly into him.
They froze.
Grant's hand was still at her waist. Riley's back was pressed against his chest. Neither of them moved.
"Sorry," she said, but she didn't pull away.
"It's okay."
They stood there for a beat too long, the noise of the square fading into background static.
Then Ryan's voice cut through. "You two need a room?"
They jumped apart.
Ryan stood a few feet away, grinning like the cat who'd caught the canary. "Just saying. There are children present."
"Shut up, Ryan," Riley said, her face bright red.
"What? I'm being helpful. Wouldn't want you to violate any public decency laws."
Grant grabbed another wreath from the box. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"
"Nope. Jenna put me on wreath duty too. Lucky me." Ryan fell into step beside them, still grinning. "So. You two are really back together, huh?"
"Yeah," Grant said.
"How's that going?"
"Good."
"Just good?"
"Ryan," Riley warned.
"What? I'm making conversation."
"You're being nosy."
"Same thing."
They hung the next wreath in silence, Ryan humming tunelessly beside them.
"You know," Ryan said after a minute, "I am one who always thought you two would end up back together."
Grant's chest tightened. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. You were good together. Made sense." Ryan glanced between them. "Still makes sense."
