Darkness fell quickly around the cabin, and Alice found herself smiling more and worrying less as the time passed. As promised, the mechanic arrived and set to work on the car, confirming what Grant had said: the brake lines had been cut. Someone had been creeping around while Grant had been showing her his tree farm, and they’d tried to kill her. Who was she kidding? Not someone. Riggs. It had to be. But Grant’s presence made her feel safe, and when James pronounced the car road-worthy, she couldn’t help being a little regretful about leaving the seclusion of the peaceful cabin—and its single occupant.
She declined Grant’s offer to drive back to town—she had absolutelynointention of letting Riggs see how badly he’d frightened her—but agreed that she would report it to the local police. For all the good that was likely to do her. Still, better to file the report than not. She headed straight to the station to give a statement, and by the time that was done, night was beginning to fall. Betty brushed off her apologies for not being around to help out with the cookies, and seemed genuinely concerned that she was okay, which was touching. And she was pretty sure the astute woman hadn’t missed the way her cheeks had heated when she told her about her visit with Grant—her host was very quick to point out that he would almost certainly be at the carol festival this evening. Alice couldn’t help being just a little more excited about the festival at the prospect.
The carol festival was every bit as charming as Mrs. Thompson had promised. Twinkling lights adorned the town square, wreaths hung on every lamppost, and in the center, the magnificent Christmas tree towered over the scene, with its little sign proclaiming it to be from Grant’s Tree Farm. Alice’s cheeks colored at the thought of her reaction last time she’d seen the sign—and how wrong she’d been about the kind, handsome tree farmer.
Carolers stood on a makeshift stage, their harmonized voices ringing out clearly in the cold night air. The smell of roasted chestnuts and freshly baked cookies wafted through the square as families and couples wandered between stalls selling festive treats and handmade crafts.
Alice accepted a cup of hot mulled cider from a rosy-cheeked vendor, thanking him with a smile. She meandered happily amongst the stalls, stopping to admire a display of glass snowflake ornaments.
“Beautiful, aren't they?” the elderly shopkeeper remarked. “I blow every one by hand.”
“They're exquisite,” Alice agreed. She chatted amiably with the man about his wares for a few minutes before continuing on her way.
Everywhere she looked, smiling faces glowed in the gentle light emanating from strings of bulbs. Children laughed gleefully as they chased one another around the Christmas tree, squealing with delight.
For a while, Alice was able to lose herself in the infectious joyful atmosphere. A welcome distraction from the day's events. Here, surrounded by the bright lights and familiar carols, it was almost possible to forget that someone had tried to kill her that afternoon. Almost.
She scanned the crowd, taking in the locals and tourists alike who had come together to celebrate. Her heart skipped a beat as she spotted a familiar rugged form across the square. Grant stood with his hands casually tucked into his pockets, seemingly transfixed by the carolers on stage. The soft glowing lights illuminated his chiseled features and even from a distance, Alice found herself captivated by his striking profile. But then, she mused, who wouldn’t be? There was something about him that was so intoxicating…and that was before he’d saved her life. She shuddered at the thought of what would have happened if he hadn’t spotted her brakes had been cut.
Before she could work up the nerve to approach him, the carolers finished their song and the crowd burst into enthusiastic applause. Seizing the opportunity, Alice slipped away to find herself a cocoa from a nearby stall. A little bit of chocolatey courage never hurt, after all.
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as she moved away from the crowd. Glancing around, she saw no obvious threat, but she couldn’t help the feeling that crept over her, like she was being watched. She shivered, touching the small canister of mace attached to her keychain in her pocket. Riggs wouldn't try anything here, would he? In this quaint village square with all these people?
“Alice!”
She started at the sound of her name, pulse racing. But her alarm was quickly replaced by delight as she recognized the source of the voice. Grant approached, flashing a brilliant smile that made her knees weak. Ugh. It was official—he’d turned her into a walking cliché. And she wasn’t sure she even cared. The broadness of his shoulders was accentuated by a well fitted coat, and the lights reflected off his dark, windswept hair. Handsome didn't begin to cover it. Alice had to remind herself to breathe. Again.
“Grant, hi!” She hoped she didn't sound as breathless to him as she did to her own ears.
“Fancy running into you here,” he said, stepping in next to her. “Enjoying the festival?”
“Absolutely. It's like a living, breathing Hallmark movie.”
Grant chuckled, the sound sending a pleasant tingle down her spine. “That's one way to describe it.” He angled his body towards her. “Everything go okay with the police?”
His voice held a note of concern that made her insides turn to mush. He really did care. She quickly relayed the lackluster interaction with the skeptical sheriff. Grant's jaw tightened, a stormy look in his eyes.
“If that monster comes near you again, he'll have me to answer to.” His tone sent a thrill through her. She tentatively placed a hand on his forearm.
“Thank you, Grant. Honestly I can't tell you how much I appreciate everything you did for me today.” She offered him a shy, appreciative smile.
He dipped his head, almost bashfully. “Anyone would have done the same.”
She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure that's not true.”
Impulsively, she looped her arm through his and gently tugged him towards the nearby cocoa stand she’d been heading for.
“Come on. Let me get you a hot chocolate. It's the least I can do for the man who saved my life.” She flashed him a teasing grin. “Besides, I believe I still owe you for the one from this afternoon.”
Grant chuckled, allowing himself to be led away. “Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?”
They joined the short line for the stand, unconsciously shifting closer together as other patrons jostled past. Alice was intensely aware of Grant's muscular arm linked with hers, his sleeve brushing her shoulder. She could feel his warmth seeping through the material of his jacket, and her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. Just being close to him had her pulse racing in a way she couldn't blame solely on lingering unease from earlier.
They shuffled forward slowly, making idle small talk about the town and the origin of different festival traditions. She got the impression Grant was actually downplaying his knowledge, perhaps not wanting to accidentally info dump on her. But she didn't mind; she liked listening to him talk with his smooth, rich baritone.
When they finally reached the counter, Grant waved away her money before she could even open her wallet.
“It's on me,” he insisted, handing the cashier a bill.
