Chapter 10
Winterfest was in full swing–or at least it would be in a couple of hours. For now, it was organized chaos as vendors, volunteers, and community members hurried around, setting up booths, stringing lights, and arranging displays.
“Harper!” Benny’s dramatic voice cut through the crisp morning air like a siren. “This is a disaster. A complete and utter disaster!”
I turned away from the small stack of sugar cookies I’d been arranging on the table to see him standing a few feet away, arms flailing as he squinted at the grey sky.
“What now?” I asked, trying–and failing–not to laugh.
“It’s going to rain!” he exclaimed, his hands flying to his head. “I can feel it in my bones. My bones, Harper!”
I glanced up at the clouds, which, admittedly, did look a little ominous, but so far, not a single drop had fallen. “Benny, it’s not going to rain. The weather report said clear skies.”
“Do you think I trust a weather report over my bones?” he shot back, glaring at me as if I were personally responsible for the potential precipitation.
“Maybe your bones need to take a chill pill,” I teased, earning a scandalized gasp.
“Do you hear her?” Benny said, spinning dramatically toward Nina, who had just arrived with a box of decorations in hand. “She’s mocking me in my hour of need!”
Nina rolled her eyes but grinned. “Relax, Benny. If it rains, we’ll just move everything under the tents. Problem solved.”
Benny let out a deep, shaky sigh, muttering something about the world conspiring against him as he began rearranging cupcake trays for the third time.
I leaned closer to Nina, lowering my voice. “Is he always like that?”
“Every Winterfest,” she replied with a laugh. “He means well, though.”
The morning went on as Nina and I continued setting up the booth, doing our best to follow Benny’s increasingly dramatic–and often contradictory–directions.
Between hanging signs, arranging baked goods, and repositioning decorations for the fourth time, we managed to get everything in place.
Benny fluttered around us like a stressed out event planner, muttering about drizzle and wind and crooked tablecloths, while Nina and I exchanged amused glances and tried not to laugh too loudly.
Despite the chaos, there was something oddly comforting about it all.
The shared purpose, the laughter, the low hum of anticipation buzzing through the air as Winterfest slowly came to life around us.
I stretched onto my tiptoes, trying to hook that last string of lights onto the corner post of the booth. The wind tugged at the banner, and the plastic chair I was standing on wobbled just enough to make my heart skip. I reached again, almost there–
“Need a hand?”
The voice came from just behind me, low and familiar. I froze, then slowly glanced down to find Ryan standing at the edge of the booth, one brow slightly raised, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Oh. Uh…” I tried to sound casual, like my heart hadn’t just slammed into my ribs. “I’ve got it. Almost.”
“You say that,” he said, already stepping forward, “but you’re about five seconds from reenacting a holiday disaster movie.”
Even with me balanced on a chair, we were almost eye level. Without, he’d tower over me by a good seven inches–six-foot-two to my five-seven.
Before I could argue, his hand brushed mine, steadying the post as I adjusted the lights. His other hand hovered near my back, not touching, but close enough that I could feel the heat of it.
From behind me, the rustling stopped. I didn’t even have to look to know that both Nina and Benny had frozen mid-task and were now staring at me like I’d sprouted mistletoe from my ears.
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, cheeks burning as I secured the hook and stepped down. “Totally fine.”
Ryan gave me a small, knowing smile. “Just figured I’d offer. You know… in case your chair had other plans.”
Benny handed him a box or ornaments with a flourish. “Start hanging these on the front of the table. Neat and symmetrical, please. We’re going for classy, not chaotic.”
“Yes, sir,” Ryan said with a mock salute, his lips twitching as he got to work.
We worked quietly for a few minutes, sharing little glances and half-smiles as Benny bustled around. When everything was finally in place, Benny stepped back, hands on his hips. “Not bad, Ryan. You’re not entirely useless.”
“High praise,” Ryan said, deadpan, making me laugh.
Benny rolled his eyes, but smiled, clearly satisfied with our work. “Alright, you’re free to go–for now. Don’t think I won’t come find you if the wind ruins my setup.”
Ryan gave a mock bow. “I’ll be on standby.”
As he turned to leave, his gaze lingered on me, his smile softening. “See you later, Harper.”
“Bye,” I managed, feeling that familiar warmth bubble up as I watched him walk away.
The moment Ryan was out of sight, Benny let out a low whistle, pulling me from my thoughts. “So what’s really going on there?”
I scoffed, grabbing a roll of tape and sticking it to a random surface just to keep my hands busy. “He was just being polite.”
“Polite?” Nina chimed in from the other side of the booth, her voice rising in pitch. “The eye contact? The lingering?”
“There was no lingering,” I said firmly, even as my cheeks betrayed me by heating up.
“Oh, there was lingering,” Benny said, pointing a wooden spoon at me like it was a gavel. “And I, for one, am inspired.”
I rolled my eyes, but my fingers tightened around the tape.
“He’s single you know,” Nina said lightly, not looking up as she untangled a string of fairy lights. “And you’re both hot as hell, I say go for it.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again.
I honestly hadn’t thought of Ryan in that way.
He was extremely nice–he’d fixed my sink, showed up when I didn’t even ask, and coached Connor with patience and warmth.
And yeah, sure–he was ridiculously good-looking.
The kind of good-looking that made you look twice.
You’d have to be blind to not notice his strong forearms, broad shoulders, and his eyes–bright and blue, like they could see more than you were willing to show.
Besides, even if I could possibly be interested in someone again or even think about letting someone in–which I wasn’t–there’s no way someone like him would want someone like me. Not with all the baggage I came with.
“I’m going to make a new pastry,” Benny declared dramatically. “Something rich, a little spicy, definitely soft in the middle. I’ll call it… Icing on the heart.”
I dropped my forehead to the table with a groan. “Please don’t.”
“Oh, it’s happening,” he said with a flourish. “It’ll be a bestseller. People will taste the unresolved tension in every bite.”
“I hate both of you,” I mumbled, but I couldn’t help smiling.
The booth was finally ready, and I had to admit, it looked amazing.
Garlands draped neatly along the edges, ornaments catching the soft winter sunlight, and rows of steaming hot cocoa paired perfectly with the cookies and other baked goods from the bakery.
Nina had just slipped away to relieve her assistant, Jaxxon, from his nannying duties and pick up Liam, promising to be back before the crowds really picked up.
Benny had taken it upon himself to arrange everything “just so,” and now, with the hard work done, he looked like he could almost relax.
Almost.
“I’m going to do my rounds,” Benny announced, tugging his scarf tighter as if preparing for battle.
“You know, scope out the competition. And Harper–” he pointed a gloved finger at me– “watch out for Linda. She’s had it out for me ever since I beat her at the bake off in 2018.
Don’t let her near our booth, or so help me–”
“Linda? From the knitting club?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, that Linda.” His voice dropped like he was whispering classified information. “She’s sneaky, Harper. Last year she ‘accidentally’ knocked over our marshmallow tower display. Coincidence? I think not.”
I bit back a laugh. “Got it. Sabotage watch is on.”
Benny narrowed his eyes, clearly not convinced I grasped the seriousness of the situation. “This isn’t a joke. The woman’s got a black belt in passive-aggressive sabotage.” He scanned the crowd, his shoulders tense. “Stay vigilant.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, giving him a mock salute.
Satisfied, Benny set off with determined strides, weaving through the clusters of people with the precision of a seasoned general. I watched him go, shaking my head as I turned back to the display, adjusting the cookies so the snowman ones were front and center.
The wind picked up, rustling the fabric of the booth and sending a shiver down my spine. I pulled my coat tighter around me and glanced over my shoulder, eyes sweeping across the festival grounds.
The entire square was beginning to glow with that unmistakable kind of magic only winter could conjure.
Strings of warm white lights were draped from booth to booth like a canopy of stars, casting a golden hue over everything.
Wreaths hung on the lampposts, each one dotted with holly and tiny bells that jingled softly with each gust of wind.
A group of volunteers was tying the final touches onto the large evergreen tree in the middle of the square–garlands, ribbons, a handmade star that swayed gently at the top.
The scent of cinnamon and roasted chestnuts drifted from the booth across the way, where a pair of older women were handing out samples with gloved hands and wide smiles. Nearby, a man was stacking firewood beside a small bonfire pit, the rising smoke curling into the air like a welcome sign.
I spotted familiar faces–neighbours chatting, shop owners offering samples, a pack of teenagers huddled around the hot cocoa stand–and for a second, the whole town felt impossibly small and incredibly full.