“We should.”
Neither of us moves.
But then she steps out of our embrace, just enough to look up at me.
“One more,” she says. Her eyes linger on my lips before she meets my gaze again. “Just to be certain this is a terrible idea we won't regret.”
She pulls me down and we kiss with all the urgency we’ve both been holding back. I lift her barely off her feet and she gasps against my mouth, then wraps her arms tighter around my neck, rises higher on her toes, and opens her mouth against mine in a way that makes me groan.
Holly
“ ... and then there's the romance author panel at five!” Jocelyn hasn't stopped talking about book events since we got in the car. “Three authors doing holiday romance readings. I heard rumors someone big might show up as a surprise guest. Romance at the holidays is peak BookTok content.”
“I cannot believe you're voluntarily coming back.” I watch Evan navigate the familiar route. “The Johnsons are recovered. You're officially off the hook.”
“Maybe I like being on the hook.” His thumb taps the steering wheel once, twice.
We haven't talked about the kiss—that perfect, world-tilting kiss on the balcony two days ago. We've texted about gala wrap-up, about today's schedule, about anything except the fact that I grabbed his jacket and kissed him like oxygen was running out.
“You're very excited about this,” Evan observes to Jocelyn.
“It's ROMANCE at CHRISTMAS in a SMALL TOWN.” She punctuates each word with a hand gesture. “This is every trope I love happening in real life. The bookstore has themed hot chocolate! Author readings by a fireplace! Build-a-Boyfriend stations!”
“Build-a-what?”
“You'll see.” Her grin turns wicked. “You're both doing it. Non-negotiable.”
Evan's mouth tilts up at one corner—that half-smile that sneaks through when he's amused but trying not to show it. The one that makes my fingers itch to reach across the console and touch him.
“Josh is going to lose his mind when he sees you,” I tell him. “He's been practicing that tap step all week. Marie says he's driving everyone crazy tapping under his desk at school.”
“Good for him. Everyone should have something that makes them feel that alive.”
* * *
The town square bustles with holiday vendors. Pinewood Falls takes its holiday baking seriously—I can smell cinnamon and chocolate from three booths away.
“I'll register us for the tasting!” Jocelyn announces, already speed-walking toward the competition tent with her enormous tote bag bouncing. “Meet you there in five!”
She vanishes into the crowd.
“She's up to something,” I say.
“Without question.” Evan's palm settles at the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd. Like he's done this a thousand times. Like we do this.
We pass a booth selling ornaments made from old sheet music, another with knitted chickens wearing Santa hats. Evan stops at one displaying wooden signs with increasingly silly holiday sayings.
“'Sleigh My Name, Sleigh My Name,'“ he reads. “That's terrible.”
“That's AMAZING,” I correct.
He points to another. “'All I Want for Christmas is Food and Naps.'“
“Finally, honesty in advertising,” he says.
“Should be the town motto.”
He steers me around a cluster of kids waiting for face painting, and we reach the cookie competition—three long tables displaying numbered entries.
