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“Everything looks incredible, Griffin.”

“Thanks.”

Mayor Caldwell wraps up his speech and lifts his hand.

The countdown starts.

Ten. Nine. Eight.

The crowd joins in.

Seven. Six. Five.

I can’t take my eyes off the tree, willing everything to work out. If the lights don’t turn on, it’ll be a disaster.

Four. Three. Two. One.

The lights come on all at once, and the whole field lights up. The main tree, the pathway strings, the market stalls, the icicles along the food tent, the star at the top of the tree. Everyone claps and shouts their delight before returning to what they were doing, checking out the vendor stalls or the food tent.

“That was magical,” I breathe.

“I agree,” Fox says.

I turn to him and see his eyes are on me, not on the tree or the lights.

I catch my breath.

The silver streaks in his dark hair catch the lights and turn almost gold at the edges, and his amber-brown eyes look darker than usual.

He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. I still don’t know why he’d ever want anything to do with a small-town events coordinator who lives in a tiny apartment, drinks way too much coffee, and has a book addiction.

All of a sudden, I’m too warm in my coat. I loosen my scarf from around my neck and turn away from him to look back at the tree.

“I need to check on the security team,” I say.

“Sure.”

“And the vendors.”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t push when I make my way toward the vendor stalls again. There’s nothing I need to check, but I can’t be around him, knowing that I want him so much while at the same time waiting for him to tell me the band will be working on a new album.

I round the corner near the pet-care booth.

“We provide basic care for pets belonging to the elderly community members.”

Dr. Hunter Cross is standing at the front of his booth, talking to a small crowd. He’s wearing a heavy sweater under his coat, the color bringing out his green eyes and red hair and making both brighter than usual.

An old lady with a terrier approaches him, and the dog goes to Hunter straight away, investigating his hand, probably looking for treats. Hunter kneels and the dog practically jumps on his lap.

“This is exactly why we do this work,” he says, laughing and scratching behind the dog’s ears. “Every pet deserves care, and every owner deserves peace of mind.”

The man has the whole look going for him, and he loves animals. No wonder Emmett is a fan. I would be too if my heart wasn’t already beating for a certain rock star.

I’m about to greet Hunter when Stone appears through the crowd. He looks like a man on a mission who won’t let anyone get in the way.

“Dr. Cross,” he says, extending his hand to Hunter. “Stone Murphy. I’ve heard wonderful things about your work with animals.”