Page 61 of Grumpy Glitter Christmas
Her hand lifted, reaching for his.
And the entire room exhaled as one.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Felicity’s hand found Grant’s, and the moment their fingers touched, something inside her chest that had been locked tight finally, blessedly opened.
She stepped closer, close enough to see the hope and fear warring in his storm-cloud eyes, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, close enough to make a choice.
“You’re an idiot,” she whispered.
His face fell. “I know. I’m so?—“
“A beautiful, eloquent, ridiculously romantic idiot.” She was crying and laughing at the same time, her voice breaking. “And I love you too.”
The hope in his eyes blazed into something incandescent. “Felicity?—“
She didn’t let him finish. She rose on her toes, her free hand sliding up to cup his jaw, and kissed him.
The room exploded.
Applause, cheers, whistles—the entire town erupting in a cacophony of joy that would probably be heard all the way to Burlington. Someone—definitely Ida—let out a whoop that could have shattered glass.
But Felicity heard none of it. There was only Grant, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer. His lips were warm and sure against hers, and he tasted like champagne and promises. The kiss was everything the almost-kiss had promised and more—sweet and deep and tinged with salt from both their tears.
They broke apart to see the entire gala watching them with unabashed delight. Ida was openly weeping into Ruth’s shoulder. Ruth was dabbing at her own eyes. Jade was beaming so hard Felicity thought her face might split. Even Brice looked vaguely pleased, which for Brice was the emotional equivalent of a standing ovation.
Meena appeared beside them, her clipboard materialized from wherever she’d been hiding it, a knowing smile on her face. “That was beautiful, truly. But we do have a gala to finish. The auction awaits.”
Grant and Felicity exchanged a look—his sheepish, hers still dazed and glowing.
“Right,” Felicity said. “The auction. We have an auction.”
“We have an auction,” Grant confirmed, but he didn’t let go of her hand.
The high-ticket items went smoothly and lucratively. The ski resort weekend sparked a bidding war between two families that drove the price to nearly double its value. The handmade quilt went to a tearful woman who declared it would be a family heirloom. The wine tasting sold for a respectable sum to the owner of the local bookstore.
But then came the special items.
Meena took the microphone, her professional smile firmly in place. “And now, for something a bit different. Lot numberseven: a unique, one-of-a-kind decorative piece that really captures the spirit of rustic Vermont living.”
She unveiled the taxidermy squirrel in its Santa hat with a flourish.
A beat of stunned silence.
Then Ida’s voice rang out: “Fifty dollars!”
The room erupted in laughter.
“Ida, no,” Ruth hissed.
“That squirrel has character! Harold would have appreciated that squirrel!” Ida declared.
“Harold was allergic to squirrels!”
“Well he’s not anymore, is he?”
“Sixty dollars!” someone shouted from the back—it was Ben Carter, Leo’s younger brother, clearly unable to resist the chaos.
