Page 28 of Reeve

“Hey, Coach.”

“Merry Christmas!”

“And to both of you,” I tell them, continuing around the porch.

Mr. and Mrs. Morgan stop me for a holiday hug and quick hello before Ifinallyget to Bruce, Harper, McKenna, and Tanner.

“Holy cow!” I exclaim. “This is some crush!”

“Everyone who’s anyone is here,” says Bruce, flinging a red and green boa over his shoulder. “It’s clearly the fête of the season.” After a swig of Stella Artois, that he probably brought himself, he nails me with an intense look. “Are you ready for Sunday, Miss Reeve? Your first solo mission asdirecteur de théâtre!”

“I’m ready for whatever that is!” I promise him, taking off my mittens and shoving them in my pockets. I turn to McKenna. “But I sure wish you were helping out again this year.”

“Wild horses won’t keep me awaynextyear,” she promises, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “You look festive!”

“Do I?”

I pulled an old red sweater out of the bottom of my dresser and paired it with jeans, boots, and a parka.

“I like the red,” says McKenna.

“That was Mom’s sweater,” says Harper, eyeing it. “Did you stealallher stuff?”

“Whatever I wanted,” I tell her. “Not like she’s going to use it.”

“I guess,” says Harper wistfully. “Can I borrow it sometime?”

“Anytime,” I tell her. “Where are Hunter and Isabella? They got here so late last night, I haven’t even seen them yet!”

Tanner shrugs. “Somewhere inside…but good luck making a path through that sea of humanity. I spent one second in there and came back out here.”

“I better try,” I tell them, pushing away from the railing and back into the fray.

Jing-jing-a-ling, jing-a-ling, jing-a-ling, what fun to hear those sleigh bells jingle!

I think Gran’s picking the music now. Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters are her favorites.

As I turn another corner, ever closer to the front door, someone grabs my arm. I turn to see who it is and find Aaron Adams standing in a dark corner against the cabin, a half-finished beer bottle in his hand.

“Hey, Reeve.” His voice is low and sexy, and I feel like I could listen to the way he says my name forever and a day.

“Hey, Aaron,” I say, smiling up at him.

I saw Aaron at play rehearsal this week—on Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday—but per his promise, he didn’t make a move on me or ask me out on another date. We’d agreed to one date, and he’d knocked it out of the park. Now, in my heart, I know I’d say yes to another date. I’mlongingfor another date. But I also know that keeping us friend-zoned before I head to Anchorage is a smarter plan.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, lifting his bottle to clink it against mine.

“I don’t have a drink yet!” I waggle my empty fingers at him. “Haven’t gotten inside!”

“Are youallowedto drink?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at me.

“I am. It isn’t against the law in Alaska for someone under twenty-one to have an alcoholic beverage, as long as it’s given to them at a private home or party by a parent or guardian.”

“Yes, Reeve,” he says. “I know the law.”

“My dad doesn’t mind if I have a drink or two,” I tell him with a little shrug. “Over two, though? Maybe not.”

“It’s good to see you.” His eyes alight on mine, brown velvet, warm and sweet. “I had fun last Friday.”

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