Page 5 of Holidate Scramble
"Good point." He adjusted his stance slightly. "Any other rules?"
"Follow my lead. Smile when appropriate. Try not to look like you'd rather be anywhere else."
"I don't look like that."
"You absolutely do. Resting grumpy face."
His laugh surprised me—low and genuine, transforming his whole expression. "Resting grumpy face? Is that a medical condition?"
"Should be. I bet you self-diagnose regularly."
"Fair enough." He was still smiling. "I'll work on my people skills."
The next hour passed in introductions and conversations. Rhett handled it better than expected, his natural reserve coming across as dignified rather than cold. When people shared their stories, he listened with genuine attention.
When Mayor Isabelle Reeves took the stage, we stood near the back of the crowd. The square had filled to capacity—families, couples, children on parents' shoulders.
"This town really comes together," he observed quietly.
"That's what I love about it." I pulled my coat tighter against the December chill. "Small enough that everyone knows everyone, but that creates care instead of judgment. Well, most of the time."
"Most of the time?"
"Small towns mean everyone knows your business. By tomorrow morning, half of Starlight Bay will have heard we attended together."
"Does that bother you?"
I considered. "Not really. After Christmas, we go back to our separate lives."
"Right. Temporary." Something in his tone made me glance up, but his attention was fixed on the stage.
The choir began "O Come, All Ye Faithful," sung in four-part harmony that sent chills down my spine. Around us, people joined in. I found myself singing along, the familiar words comforting.
When I glanced over, I caught him watching me instead of the choir.
"What?" I asked softly.
"You really love this. All of it."
"I do." I didn't look away. "Creating moments where communities connect, where people feel hope... that matters."
"It does." His voice was low. "The world needs people who care about bringing light into dark places."
The moment hung between us. Then the crowd erupted as the mayor counted down, and the massive tree blazed to life with thousands of twinkling lights.
In the glow of that illumination, with Christmas music swelling around us, he smiled at me like maybe this crazy idea wasn't entirely terrible.
And I realized I was in serious trouble.
TWO HOURS LATER, ASthe crowd thinned and vendors packed up, I finally had a moment to breathe.
"You did well tonight," Rhett said, appearing with two cups of hot chocolate. "Everything went smoothly."
"Thanks to volunteers and holiday magic." I accepted the cup gratefully. "But I'll take the compliment."
We stood quietly, watching the last families drift toward their cars. The square looked magical now, lights reflecting off snow falling in fat, lazy flakes.
"I should get home," he finally said. "Early surgery tomorrow, and I promised my mom I'd stop by."
