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He beamed, all dimples. “Deal.”
Hand in hand, we made our way through the crowd, over to the still-unlit tree.
“This is a good spot.” I stood on my tiptoes, pointing to an empty branch well over my head.
Quinn chuckled, taking the ornament from me and placing it on the branch. “Here?”
“Yep, perfect, thanks.”
He encircled my waist, pulling me in towards him, placing a soft, slow kiss on my lips.
“No problem. It’s not like you were gonna be able to reach it.”
“Very funny,” I said, slugging him on the arm. “But sadly, also accurate.”
“Nothing to be sad about. Just remember to keep someone tall around to help you out.” He winked at me, squeezing me closer to him, his hands splayed across the pockets of my jeans.
“Duly noted,” I said, smiling up at him. I inhaled his fresh scent, the smell of his shirt mixing with the clean notes of his cologne and the pine of the tree behind us.
Then my jacket pocket vibrated.
“That’s quite a response,” Quinn said, his eyes traveling south down my body.
I sighed. “Sorry. This is probably important.”
Untangling my arms, I pulled out my phone and read a text from Mars.
COME QUICK
“Oh no.” I tried—but failed—to suppress a groan.
“What?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ve got to go. See you later? Hopefully before they light the tree?”
Quinn nodded, his expression serious. “Sure.”
“Thanks.” I gave him a quick peck on the lips to salvage his feelings, then dashed away while frantically texting Mars:
Be right there.
M: Hurry—forget Cupid and Donner. Make like Dasher or Blitzen and get your buns to our tent, like 5 min ago!
D: Got it.
M: Quit texting and jog!
Three minutes later I was at our tent. I don’t know what I expected to see, but it definitely wasn’t this.
Mars was smiling and laughing with an extremely blond, extremely attractive female about our age who appeared absolutely smitten with him.What was the big emergency?
“Here she is,” Mars said, throwing his right arm out in a sweeping motion, scooping me into his embrace. “The proud owner ofLanie’s, the one, the only, Miss Delaney Miller.” He beamed at me, his dark eyes glittery under the white twinkling lights.
“Hi, great to meet you.” I stuck my hand out for a cordial shake, but she dove in for the hug.
“Oh my stars, so great to finally meet you! I’ve heard so much about you and your bakery, I just had to make the trip over and try your cookies for myself. And I thought what better time to do that than the Peachtree Grove annual tree lighting. And my lands, these cookies are so soft and buttery, they were one-thousand percent worth the trip.” She licked an invisible crumb from her pink, overly glossed—and most likely artificially plumped—lips.
“Well, thanks so much, I’m beyond flattered. And where did you make the trip from?” I asked, taking in her tailored designer cherry-red coat, tight black leather pants, and knee-high pointy boots. She was definitelynotfrom here.
