“Go,” I tell him. “I’m fine.”
“The vineyard’s booth is at the end of this row. I’ll try to catch up with you in a little while.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
With one last smile, he disappears into the crowd, and I’m left to wander the festival on my own. I stop at a booth offering roasted chestnuts, another with handmade ornaments. Someone’s giving out samples of peppermint bark. And then I spot the vineyard’s booth.
As he mentioned, it’s quite popular, and it takes me nearly ten minutes to reach the front of the line. But it’s worth it, the warm, spicy flavor like winter in a cup.
I continue to meander through the festival as I sip on my wine, taking in all the sights and smells. A few Christmas markets like this have popped up in D.C. over the years, but I’ve avoided them like the plague. Hell, I usually avoid anything that even hints at Christmas.
But this is important to Joshua, so now it needs to be important to me.
As I make my way down another row of booths, I spy one selling fudge and start toward it, skirting through the crowds of people. As I do, something slams into me, causing my wine to spill.
I look down, cursing softly at the red stain blooming on my crisp white shirt.
And then I see her.
Claire.
Frozen. Eyes wide. Mouth parted in horror.
“Wha… What are you doing here?” she breathes.
I attempt to shake some of the wine from my fingers.
“Nice to see you again, too.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CLAIRE
I blink hard,certain my mind is playing tricks on me.
He can’t be here. He was supposed to head back to D.C. today. That’s what he said last night.
But there’s no mistaking it’s him. Declan. Standing in the middle of the Holley Ridge Christmas Festival like a ghost from the one night I’ve been trying so hard to forget.
Except he’s not a ghost. He’s real. Solid. Over six feet of muscle and broad shoulders, now wearing a splash of deep red across his white button-down shirt.
“I’m so sorry.” I snap out of my stupor, reaching for the front of his shirt like I can somehow make the stain disappear with sheer will. My fingers almost graze his chest before I catch myself. “I wasn’t… I didn’t see you.”
“Don’t worry about it.” His voice is calm, though there’s a flicker of something else beneath the surface. Surprise? Or maybe nerves.
But Declan doesn’t seem like the kind of man who gets nervous.
At least he didn’t during our one night together.
But I need to stop thinking aboutthatDeclan.
Instead, I need to only think about him as Joshua’s father.
Nothing else.
“I’ve survived worse,” he continues. “Do you mind pointing me to the nearest bathroom?”
“They’re in there.” I point toward the refurbished barn that now hosts weddings and other important functions. “But it looks like there’s more people in that line than the one for Santa.”
