“Are you okay?”
“Sure.” He doesn’t seem swayed by my smile. I laugh to really drive home myit’s no big dealattitude, but I don’t think it’s holding up under his close scrutiny.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I’m tempted to make a joke about us having a heart to heart, but I can’t do it. “I just wish they had more faith in me. She sounded like everyone expects me to call in reinforcements from my sister.”
“That woman isn’teveryone.”
“Not the best time for a semantics lesson, Griffin.” I step away, growing more agitated the longer he watches me with that soft look on his face. “I figured some people think along those lines, it’s just the first time someone said it straight to my face.”
“Hey.” He steps in front of me before I can start pacing. “You’re doing your best, and then some. You’re creating this magical festival, improving every piece you touch, and expecting nothing in return. They’re going to be impressed by you.I’mimpressed by you.”
My heart jolts around behind my ribs, reveling in praise from this man.
“That’s the part that counts, right?” I need to poke a little fun at both of us and bring this moment down a touch. He’s turned way too sincere on me, and my fingers are shaking so hard, I can’t manage to undo my top coat button. “I need to maintain my image as your boss.”
Griffin’s eyes snag on my fingers fumbling with the button, and he closes the distance between us to stand right in front of me.
“Here.” He moves my fingers out of the way like he’s going to unbutton my coat for me, but he startles at the contact. “Your hands are freezing.”
His warm fingers wrap around mine, shutting out the chill. I immediately forget that I wanted to bring the moment down. My focus narrows to the solid warmth of his hands like a microscope collecting the tiniest details. The calluses on his palms just below his fingers. The sheer size of his hands compared to mine. My heart beating entirely too fast.
This is apparently the day for him to hold my hands, and I don’t hate it. I’m hungry for it, ready to gather up all the warm, soft touches from Griffin.
“Where are your crazy red gloves?”
He slips my hands together and rubs them vigorously like he intends to start a fire between us.Yes, please.He pulls them close to his face, cups his hands, and blows on them, letting his hot breath create a little oven perfect for finger-thawing.
“I forgot them here.”
My voice comes out so soft, I’m not sure he heard me, but his eyes snap to mine. Flamesmight as well come out of his eyes. Hazel-green sparks bore into me with…I can’t even name what. Or, Ican…but like the rest of this strange “one step closer, one step back” dance we’re doing, I don’t know if Ishould. It’s definitely somethinghot.
We stare at each other ten whole seconds, this “I’m too much of a chicken to say what” flying between us before he squeezes my hands one last time and lets go.
“You know what we’re going to do, don’t you?” he says.
A dozen slightly saucy answers come to mind. Whatever he suggests, I’m ready to agree.
He tilts his head an inch closer. “We’re going to give this town the best Christmas festival they’ve ever seen.”
I like that plan.
His confidence colors me with a rosy, golden warmth. I could bask in his encouragement, just swim around in the coziness of knowing he’s behind me. He’s supporting me and my festival like we really are a team. Like he believes in me.
Griffin McBride found my Kryptonite.
I’m not sure my defenses were all that strong to begin with.
FIFTEEN
GRIFFIN
The next personwho smiles pathetically at me tonight is going to get punched in the face.
I move around in my parents’ living room, collecting sad half-smiles like a magnet pulling in iron filings, each one delivering a tiny sting as they worm under my skin. Everyone means well, I know that. I still hate this.
Hate that he’s gone. Hate that we have to grieve him at all, let alone collectively.
