Chapter 1
ONE
Crooked Is Always Crooked
Lauren
How did I miss it? The banner is crooked.
Painfully crooked. The kind of crooked that laughs in your face once you’ve noticed it, because now you’ll always notice it.
My nose scrunches. It’s the grand unveiling of the Holly Jolly Festival banner, and the only thing anyone will remember is how it looks like it pulled an all-nighter with spiked eggnog.
I can practically hear the whispers already.
Look, the new assistant can’t even hang a banner straight.
Bless her heart. Should we fire her before or after the cocoa tasting?
Ugh. Crooked banners are my villain origin story.
I’m the newly appointed Holly Jolly Festival assistant coordinator.
This is supposed to be my big break, the job that pulls me out of the spiral of five years of slogging through a soul-sucking corporate office an hour away.
The second the job was posted, I applied.
Zero commute. It was perfect. Well, perfect except for the part where my first task might get me laughed off the town square.
“Lauren.” Mrs. Hillman’s voice slices through my spiraling.
I jolt. “Huh?”
“The crowd’s getting anxious.”
“Right.” I glance over my shoulder, and sure enough, the crowd of Holly Jolly Festival volunteers are all standing in front of the homemade stage, waiting for direction.
My gaze flicks between the crooked banner and the ladder leaning against the cocoa stand.
I could fix it in two seconds—well, maybe ten.
They’ve waited this long, what’s a few more?
Mrs. Hillman clears her throat. I press my lips together and huff.
Fine! I’ll just have to fix it afterward since everyone is so impatient.
Spinning on my heel, I plaster on my most responsible-in-charge smile. “Attention, everyone!” I wave one arm like I’m flagging down a snowplow. Nothing. The chatter continues. “Excuse me!”
Still nothing.
Fine. They asked for this. I whip my emergency air horn out of my pocket—yes, I carry one; no, it’s not weird—and give it a satisfying toot. The hush is instant and glorious.
“Thank you,” I chirp. “Now. As you know, we’re heading into the busiest week of the year, which means early mornings, late nights, and—”
A hand in the middle of the crowd shoots up. Jack, the town’s mailman. “We’re volunteers. There’s no overtime.”
“Exactly,” I say smoothly. “You’re priceless.
Million-dollar volunteers. The best of the best, and we couldn’t do this without you.
As you know, I’m here to assist Brie in making sure the Holly Jolly Festival runs smoother than Santa’s sleigh on fresh powder.
First order of business…” With my clipboard in hand, I thumb through the color-coded tabs like I’m running a Fortune 500 company instead of a small-town Christmas event.
“We’ll separate you into groups with a designated group leader.
If you want to volunteer to decorate the Holly Jolly Festival tree, stand to my left.
” I wave my hand to the side. “I’ll also need a group to move tables and linens into the cookie decorating hut.
If that tickles your Christmas fancy, stand to my right.
And in the center, I need giant candy canes, reindeer, and snowmen wranglers. ”
Over the next several minutes, everyone moves about to their designated groups. “Great,” I say, clapping. “Now, can I get a ‘Holly Jolly Festival’ on three? One! Two! Three!”
A scattered mumble floats back at me.
I squint. “That sounded like ‘Molly Olly Estival,’ which is… not a thing. Let’s try again, with actual joy in your hearts. One, two, three!”
“HOLLY JOLLY FESTIVAL!”
Much better. Almost. When I turn back toward the stage, the crooked banner is still there. Mocking me. Taunting me like an ex at a wedding.
“Do you think the banner looks crooked?” I hiss at Mrs. Hillman as she walks by. “A little droopy on the left?”
She gives it a passing glance. “Looks fine to me.”
Fine? Perhaps she needs to get her eyes checked.
“I’m fixing it,” I mutter.
I snatch the ladder from the cocoa stand, plant it in the snow, and start climbing.
Step one, fine. Step two, creak. By step four, the ladder’s wobbling like Bambi on ice.
At the last step, I stretch onto my tippy toes, the ladder teetering beneath me.
My fingers brush against the rough fibers of the rope securing one corner of the banner.
An icy gust of wind swirls around me, causing my stiff fingers to play a clumsy waltz with the rope.
“Hey Lo, what are you doing?”
Eli’s voice hits me like a snowball to the ribs. The ladder rocks. I rock. My foot slips on the step, and the world tips sideways. My life flashes before my eyes.
“Lauren!”
My scream catches in my throat as I wait for the icy sting, but instead of pancaking into the snow, something much softer buffers my fall.
“Oomph,” comes from beneath me.
I blink open one eye as snow puffs around us like confetti. Piercing blue eyes stare back, far too close for my brain to function properly.
“Are you okay?” His voice is low, husky.
“Yeah,” I croak. “I think so. Are you?”
“Yeah. Except your elbow is trying to amputate my bicep.” He groans.
“Oh! Sorry.” My hand slides to his chest. His. Very. Hard. Chest.
“Are you okay?” he asks again.
I nod quickly, because words are dangerous right now. “Yeah. Thanks to you. Stupid ladder.”
“Ladders and ice don’t mix,” he says dryly. “Were you trying to kill yourself?”
“No, the banner’s crooked.”
His eyebrow arches. “Crooked crooked, or Lauren’s-definition-of-crooked crooked?”
“Crooked crooked. The left side is a smidge lower.”
He laughs, and it rumbles through his chest under my palm like distant thunder. “And only you would consider a smidge to be crooked.”
“No matter how you look at it, crooked is always crooked,” I mutter. “It’s been mocking me all morning. Whispering, ‘I’m crooked. What are you going to do about it?’”
“So you decided to teach it a lesson?”
“Yes. Exactly. But clearly that didn’t pan out as expected.”
A moment of silence stretches between us, our breath puffing white in the cold air.
My palm still rests against the solid plane of his chest, and his fingers curve at my waist, barely there yet the only thing keeping me tethered to the planet.
A shiver darts down my spine, and not just from the snow.
“Are you two going to lie there all day? Should we just walk around you?” Mr. Jensen looms over us, profoundly unimpressed as he hauls a five-foot snowman under one arm like it’s a sack of firewood.
Heat detonates across my cheeks. Oh, right. I’m sprawled on top of Eli in the middle of the festival grounds. His hands are on my waist. My hands are on his chest. This is fine. Totally normal best-friend behavior. Nothing to see here.
“I should, um, get back to work,” I mumble, peeling myself off him like a human sticker. “But thanks for saving me.”
“I’ll always save you.” His words are barely above a whisper, like a secret meant just for me.
Butterflies explode in my belly. Best friend or not, that didn’t sound platonic. That sounded like… something else. Something dangerous. Something I’ve tried very hard not to want.
I scramble upright, brushing snow off my coat with frantic little slaps, and stick out my hand. He slides his much larger one into mine, but he doesn’t use me as leverage. Instead, with zero effort, he rises to his feet. He brushes the snow off his uniform pants and twists around.
My eyes betray me instantly. Don’t do it, Lauren. Don’t— “You’ve got some on your back,” I blurt, “and, uh… your butt.”
He glances over his shoulder with a smirk that should be illegal. “You don’t want to help me with that?”
My laugh bursts out as an unholy snort-choke hybrid. “I’ll let you handle that one.”
Even though my brain was very much already handling it. In vivid detail.
He chuckles, brushing snow off his backside while my dignity melts into a puddle at my boots.
“Before all this,” he gestures at the snow angels we accidentally made, “I was going to mention, I brought pamphlets for you. They include a map of the sleigh trail and pictures of the forest’s wildlife.” He bends, scoops up a box, and hands it over.
“Wow, these are fantastic! We can hand them out before the sleigh rides.” I beam up at him. “Oh, and Brie and I shifted some booths around, so you’ve got your own spot at the Holly Jolly Festival.”
His grin is quick and boyish, the kind of smile that still makes my stomach flip no matter how many years I’ve known him.
“Thanks. I know not everyone’s excited about safety and resource ethics, but if even a couple people learn something, it’s worth it.
” He nods toward the banner drooping above us. “Want help?”
“Yes, please.”
Effortlessly, Eli collects the ladder from the snow and positions it under the banner.
I plant my boots on the base to steady it while he climbs, giving me a front-row seat to the way his uniform pants fit him far too well.
Seriously, universe? I’ve seen this man eat nachos shirtless at two a.m. I’m not supposed to notice… that.
Marissa Berg sidles up next to me, admiring the same view I’m currently stuck on, and whispers, “Is he a new volunteer?”
I jolt. “Oh—uh, no. That’s Eli. He’s just temporarily helping me.”
Marissa sighs dramatically. “Figures. Too bad for us.” She gives me a playful elbow nudge before following Mr. Jensen.
I snap my gaze back up the ladder, cheeks burning. Eli glances down just then, one eyebrow raised. “How far?” He tugs the rope.
I step back. “Uh—just a little higher,” I say quickly.
He adjusts.
“No, wait, lower.”
He gives it some slack.
“Okay, maybe back up just a smidge—”
He twists around and gives me the look. The one that says he knows I’m being impossible, and he’s not entirely mad about it.
I grin up at him, pretending innocence. “It’s good. Perfect.”
He ties it off, climbs down, and strolls over to me. “To your satisfaction?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Good.” His arm slips easily around my shoulders, tugging me close like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
A familiar mix of leather and spice from his cologne wraps around me, and just like that, I forget how to breathe.
“Because I wasn’t getting back on that ladder,” he adds.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, startling me. The screen lights up: Mike - Landlord. My eyebrows pinch together.
“Who is it?” Eli asks, glancing down at me, concern flickering across his face.
“My landlord.” I step out of his hold and answer. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Lauren?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Mike. I got some bad news.”