“I thought it was ‘Sheryl.’ And what’s a rug rat, anyway?”
“A charming young boy who always listens to his elders.” Maggie winked at Emmy.
Thomas shook his head. “I’m not a rug rat, then.”
Maggie sighed as the older boys giggled, then arched a disapproving brow at Trevor and Toby. “None of you are. Now let’s go sit down before the funnel cakes freeze.”
“It’s not that cold out, Nana,” Toby said as they headed for the eating area.
Emmy smiled. Maggie and the three boys continued to bicker until they disappeared into the crowd. She looked around. Still no sign of Kieran.
Oh well. Lately she had gotten used to enjoying the festival on her own. Some years she spent it with Sheryl and her family, even though Emmy felt like a spare wheel. When she was a child, she and her parents had enjoyed going, but Mom and Dad hadn’t been back to Mistletoe in three years. And up until Carina went to college, the two of them had gone together.
Then there was the one time she and Josh went, and he couldn’twait to leave. He didn’t even want to go on a carriage ride together. It was her personal tradition, and she’d always ridden with her parents, with Carina, or by herself. Riding with Josh was going to be her first romantic ride, but he had refused to go.“I don’t like horses,”he’d said, checking his watch.“Are you done seeing everything? The game starts in an hour.”
She didn’t like football, and he didn’t like almost everything she did. But she swallowed her disappointment, and they left to watch the dumb game. It was the only year she’d ever missed her carriage ride.
Emmy blinked, taking a mental sledgehammer to the painful memory. That was a long time ago, and this was now. She was going on that carriage ride by herself, and she would enjoy every second of it. She spun around and crashed into someone, spilling coffee all over her gloves.
“Oof,” Kieran said. His eyes shone with mirth as they met hers. “We gotta stop doin’ this, lass.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled, looking at the two huge coffee stains on her mittens. “I just bought these,” she lamented, then glanced at Kieran again, who appeared apologetic. “It’s okay. I got them on sale.” But she really loved them. Maybe she could lift the stains later. She fumbled with her cup as she tried to take off the sodden things.
He took her hand and removed one of the mittens, his fingers gliding over bare skin.
She shivered, and not from the cold. And it wasn’t like he was purposely trying to touch her. But she couldn’t help her response, and she watched as he took her cup so she could take off the other mitten. His expression was inscrutable, and he was staring at the contents inside the cup as if he was wondering what she was drinking.
“Decaf,” she said, pointing to the booth behind them.
“What?” Then he looked at her. “Oh, right.” He quickly handed her the mitten and empty cup.
“Maggie and your nephews are over there eating funnel cakes.” She pointed at the eating area.
“That’s why I couldn’t find them,” he said. “They told me they’d be by the funnel cake booth. But when I got here, I didn’t see them.”
“You came alone?”
“I had an errand to do for Mum’s party. My sister’s made good on her promise to put me to work.”
Emmy nodded. Maggie’s party was turning out to be a huge event, and so far it was still a secret. “I’m not sure where Sheryl and Ben are,” she said, several flakes of snow floating down between her and Kieran. “Maggie set them free for a little bit.”
He chuckled. “That sounds like Mum.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his wool coat.
Once again Emmy tried not to stare at him, but it was an impossible feat, just like it had been back in high school when she was crushing on him. He was handsome and smelled amazing, of course, which always helped. But she also enjoyed watching him take in the festival with unabashed wonder, as if he’d never seen such a display. It was wonderful to be around someone who was as taken with the splendor as she was.
“Have you been here before?” she asked.
“Not since I was a young lad.” His gaze moved back to hers. “I don’t remember it being so...”
“Magical?”
He grinned. “‘It’s magical, all right.” A faint buzzing sound came from his coat pocket. He pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen. “Text from Sheryl,” he said, swiping his thumb over it. “‘The kids have eaten too much junk and Mom’s tired, so we’re going home. Enjoy the festival.’”
“They’re leaving already?” Emmy frowned. “They usually stay until the fireworks at the end.”
“They have fireworks in winter?”
“Just a few.” She ticked off her cold fingers. “A candy cane, a Christmas tree, a snowflake, and Santa. Then everyone sings ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas.’”
