He shook his head. “Definitely not me.”
Then… who the hell had it been? My mind dredged up and dismissed everyone I knew who’d taken part in the contest. None were as big as the guy from yesterday except Silas… and possibly Daniel, although I was pretty sure Daniel didn’t have light-blue eyes.
“Silas!” Everett called from ahead of us. “Babe, come on! They need you on stage with the others!”
Silas flashed him a thumbs-up, then looked at me in concern. “You okay?”
I frowned. “Yeah. Of course. I just got confused for a second there.”
Silas nodded. “Well, enjoy the Parade, okay? And remember to cheer for me in the contest. The voting is done based on audience approval.”
“Yeah. Sure,” I agreed.
And suddenly I wasveryeager to see all the participants so I could figure out who the hell had played Dr. Phil for me the day before.
I caught up to Liam while Si jogged over to the group of Santas congregated near the stage. I picked out Daniel and Constantine Ross in the mix. Everett and Hazel strolled over to join them, Hazel still chattering about something I hoped, for Everett’s sake, wasn’t still fashion for reptiles.
Liam’s arm slid around my waist again, and his head tilted toward my shoulder.
“You having fun?” I asked.
He lifted his head so his gorgeous green gaze could lock with mine. “More fun than I would have thought possible two weeks ago at this time.”
I grinned and tugged the hat down snugly over Liam’s ears. “You look good in my hat.”
He chuckled. “Not nearly as good as you look in that sweater.”
“This sweater will be burned after next week,” I informed him.
Liam only laughed harder. “Sure it will, baby. Keep telling yourself that.” He patted my chest and I looked down at his hand on my sweater.
“You know whatreallylooks good?” I put my hand over his and rubbed my thumb over the ring on his finger, curving around to the back where Liam had wrapped one of Hazel’s hair ribbons around the band multiple times. I’d told him last night that we’d get it sized next week.
“I’m not taking any chances,” he’d said.
But honestly? I wasn’t worried. The ring was just a ring. It was what it stood for that counted.
“Hey, who’s Hazel talking to?” Liam asked, nodding toward the stage where Everett was helping Silas adjust his coat, Parker and Jamie were locked in a Santa-on-Santa embrace thatsoundedway more porn-tastic than itlooked, and old Jay Turner—the guy whose frail constitution prevented him from leaving the house to notarize our forms—was dancing the Charleston for a bunch of giggling kids.
Off to one side, Hazel stood talking very seriously to a Santa-clad figure who’d bent down on one knee to listen to her. His head was turned away from us, but there was something familiar about his build.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But I’m almost positive I saw him at the tree lot yesterday.”
“They’re calling everyone up on stage, right?” Liam said. “We’ll find out then.”
But by the time all the town Santas—and Jesus Christ, there were more thanthree dozen of them—had piled on stage to cheers and whistles from the crowd, the Santa I’d been looking for was gone.
Hazel ran over to join us.
“Bug, who was the guy you were talking to?” I searched the faces on the stage.
“Santa.”
“I know,” I said. “But which? It wasn’t Joe Cross, was it?”
She shook her head.
“I know it wasn’t Daniel either.” I looked to her for confirmation and she shrugged.