Page 55

Kyra finishes her rundown of the supplies that are available. “And Beth has snickerdoodle cookies in the back of the store, along with cider and cocoa. Make sure you grab some to enjoy.”

I crane my neck and catch sight of Beth, who’s straightening a stack of paper plates. She turns and waves to the crowd, all of whom are shouting out their thanks to her for the treats.

She smiles and calls, “You’re welcome.”

She wanders forward, and the moment her eyes land on me, she presses her lips together, and her expression takes on an almost wary air.

That’s what I saw last night on the front porch, too.

I don’t like it one bit.

Beth wanders over and gives Ivy a side hug.

“Jack, glad you could make it.” She greets him, ducking out of the way when he goes to mess up her hair. She scowls at him and then raises her brows, and I swear they’re doing that thing where they communicate with their eyeballs. Jack gives a slight shake of his head, and Beth turns, flicking her gaze to Lola briefly before squaring on me.

“Hey, Gabe.”

“Hi.” It’s all I can get out because being up close to Beth Collins makes it hard for me to form words. She’s wearing dark-wash jeans, a white V-neck shirt, and a tweed blazer. She’s got teddy bear earrings on, and she looks sophisticated and fun and so totally her.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, stepping up to the open wreath next to me.

It’s the only free spot left, I see now, and I say a silent prayer of thanksgiving at how that worked out.

“I came to see you.”

She freezes with her hand in the pile of bows. “What?”

Not my smoothest play, I can admit. I’m also fully aware that Jack and Ivy are listening in from my other side. But I don’t care. I want to be Beth’s friend, and I need to know if I did something to upset her.

“You were cold last night,” I blurt.

She blinks. “You mean when I was out caroling. For an hour. In twenty-degree weather?” She lobs each statement out slowly. “Yeah, I was cold.”

I let my head fall back. “Not what I meant. You just . . . seemed off. I didn’t know if I did something to make you mad. I wanted to apologize if I did.”

Beth busies herself collecting items for her wreath. I absently grab a couple items and start arranging them, but my focus is not on the craft. It’s on the woman next to me.

“That’s sweet of you,” Beth says quietly. “But you didn’t do anything wrong.”

I stare at the side of her face until she looks over at me. When she does, I scan her expression, checking her sincerity.

“You promise?”

She nods quickly and then flicks her gaze to my wreath. “I take it back. You’re doing that all wrong.”

I glance down at the stack of lace and Christmas bows I’ve assembled and frown. “I have no clue what I’m doing.”

She pats my arm. “Oh, Gabe, that much is obvious. Here. Let me help.”

Over the next hour, Beth invades my personal space, and we work together to create a wreath that will not embarrass my mother.

I savor the scent of vanilla wafting off her hair and the smooth, warm feel of her fingers every time they get tangled in mine.

We end up laughing with Jack and Ivy when Jack tells us about the excuse one of his students used to try to get out of running the mile for his end-of-semester assessment.

“‘No, Mr. Collins, bruh.’” Jack inflects his voice to sound like a high schooler. “‘I housed three fruitcakes at lunch no cap, and if I try to run right now, I’m gonna be so cooked.’”

“What’d you say then?” Beth prompts when Jack pauses for dramatic effect.