Page 76 of Meet Me on Mistletoe Lane

Was this why he decided to bring this—whatever this unspoken thing was between us—back up?

I dropped my hand and stepped back.

Screw spinning on light poles. I was so over the dizziness of this emotional whiplash.

“We should go,” I said, the cold air wrapping itself around me once more. Cold air was good for that—clarity.

He moved forward. “Gianna…”

No.

I couldn’t do this. Not now. Not anymore.

I hurried past him and ran down the street toward The Market and its comforting sounds of holiday music that spilled onto the sidewalk.

Thank God for Christmas.

You could always count on familiar, predictable Christmas to keep you grounded.

Chapter Nineteen

“What right have you to be dismal? You’re rich enough.”

—The Muppet Christmas Carol

I was roped into helping Ms. Louisa Mae and Ms. Donna set up the prize table and a couple of the silent raffle tables for two hours. Sam kept his distance but stole glances at me more than once from across the room where he helped his family with their poinsettia and fresh wreaths display. All the games were held outside in Mullings Creek Park, directly behind The Market. The land and pavilion were the most sought-after spots for outdoor parties and town gatherings, and during the spring and early summer, youth soccer practices and games took over the field.

But my favorite part was the massive hill that embanked the far side of the property opposite the playground. It was the perfect spot to sled, and my Uncle Gabe was known for going out early on snow days to build jumps on the hill before the kids got there.

I pulled on my light-up reindeer antler headband and paced back and forth, waiting for James and Mr. Bailey to show up. Jo’s dads were running the first shift at the ticket table behind me.

“Would you look at her,” Mr. Eric said.

Mr. Josh nodded. “A bundle of nerves, that one.”

I stopped pacing. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m so fidgety,” I said to them.

“Boys will do that to you,” Mr. Josh said while taking someone’s money and giving them a wristband.

Preach.

“Well, I’m just waiting for one.” I helped snap bracelets on the kids for the next family in line after they paid.

“Mm-hmm…” Mr. Eric put the cash into the money box. “But the big question is, which one?”

Good grief.

Was there a Gianna community newsletter everyone subscribed to?

James finally walked up in a hoodie and jeans—the most casual I had seen him yet. I waved, but my hand quickly fell to my side.

Walking next to his dad were two people I didn’t recognize. They both wore dress pants and button-ups just like Mr. Bailey, only their skin looked like it had never seen the sun.

Like the real-life versions of Marley and Marley with Scrooge himself.

Great.

The three of them looked as out of place in our cozy town as bathing suits in department stores mid-February.