Chapter 7
Luke
By the time noon rolls around, Eve looks like she’s been through an actual war.
She slumps into the chair at Aunt May’s kitchen table, hair a mess, clothes stained with various unidentifiable substances—some of which are definitely not mud.
She glares at me like this is somehow my fault, even though she was the one who insisted on proving she could handle farm work.
I should be enjoying her misery, should be gloating, but I can’t stop thinking about what almost happened in the barn.
How we almost kissed.
Hell, if Daisy hadn’t chosen that exact moment to launch a full-scale milk attack, I would have kissed her. And judging by the way she’d looked at me—cheeks flushed, breath shallow, pupils blown wide—she would have let me.
Which is a problem. A big ass problem.
Aunt May hums as she ladles soup into bowls, plopping slices of her fresh baked sourdough bread onto the side plates, blissfully unaware of the absolute chaos unfolding inside me.
“You’re holding up alright, Eve?” she asks, setting a steaming bowl in front of her. “You tell me if this boy of mine is working you too hard.”
Eve’s face collapses against her folded arms. “I hate goats.”
I smirk. “Thought you were tough?”
Her head snaps up just enough to glare at me. “Oh, don’t start, Flannel Boy. I was ambushed. That was an act of war.”
Aunt May pats Eve’s hand sympathetically. “Don’t let him get to you, dear. You’ll get the hang of it.” Then she turns to me, raising an eyebrow. “And you, Lucas, stop making her life difficult.”
“Me?” I scoff. “She’s making my life difficult.”
Eve flashes a tired grin. “That’s the goal.”
Damn her. I like it just a little too much when she fights back.
Aunt May settles into her chair, stirring her soup. “So, Eve, how’s that fancy job of yours back in LA?”
“Um… it’s… fine.”
My eyes narrow onto her, spoon frozen halfway to my mouth. “Fine?”
“Uh-huh,” she says, avoiding my gaze.
“You left your whole life behind for that job. Your parents, your friends…” Me. “And it’s fine?” Something about her flippant tone rubs me wrong.
Aunt May clears her throat and shoots me a look. “Oh, how are your parents? I haven’t seen them in weeks.”
Eve sits up straighter, some of her exhaustion momentarily fading. “They’re good. Busy as ever with the inn.” But then, just for a second, there’s a flicker of something else in her expression. Concern, maybe? “I, uh… I really want to win the festival this year. For them.”
She says it casually, but I know Eve. She’s not just competitive—she’s ruthless when it comes to proving herself. The fact that she’s practically pleading with the universe to win tells me there’s more to the story.
I frown as the memory of our quick kiss beneath the mistletoe comes back to me. How the threat of ‘seven years of bad Christmas luck’ was enough to cause her to panic.
Aunt May smiles warmly. “You’ve got a good heart, dear.”
Eve shrugs, deflecting the compliment. “Anyway, tonight’s competition is Caroloke.”
I groan. “They’re still doing that? God help this town.”
“Caroloke is one of our town’s longest running traditions!” Aunt May repeats, beaming. “Christmas karaoke. What are you singing, dear?” she asks.
I nearly choke on my soup. “Eve can’t sing her way out of a paper bag.”
Aunt May once again swats me with her tea towel. “Lucas!”
“Ow! Stop that. It’s not my fault she shrieks like a dying cat.”
“It’s okay, Aunt May,” Eve says when it looks like Aunt May is about to replace the tea towel with the rolling pin. Even still, a gloomy look clouds her expression. “Luke’s right. I can’t sing. I literally, single-handedly almost cost our high school the show choir state competition.”
“Yeah, by not showing up,” I grumble.
“No,” she snaps, shooting me a side eye. “I saved the competition by not showing up. That’s how bad of a singer I am.”
Eve and I share a long, heated look before it’s interrupted by Aunt May gasping, scandalized.
“Nonsense!” Aunt May says. “Everyone can sing.” Then, to my absolute horror, she turns to me. “You should go with her to Caroloke, Luke. You have a lovely voice! You two could sing a duet. Like that lovely little snowstorm duet from that movie about the oversized elf.”
This time, it isn’t nearly… I do choke on my soup. “You want us to sing Baby It’s Cold Outside?”
Eve cringes. “That’s a little rapey, Aunt May.”
“Rapey?” Aunt May repeats and we both nod.
“Besides,” I grumble. “Like I said… I don’t sing.”
Anymore.
“I know,” Aunt May says, wistfully. “And it’s such a shame. You have a beautiful voice. Just like your daddy’s.”
I freeze. Aunt May and I don’t talk about my dad much. Her brother.
Eve’s eyes drop to her soup and then, to my utter disbelief, she blushes. “You do have a beautiful voice,” she murmurs, almost to herself.
I don’t reply. Because, yeah—I did sing in high school. For her.
I joined that damn show choir for one reason and one reason only…
so I could secretly spend more time with Eve.
And when it was time to audition for the duet, I went for it because she went for it.
And I told the director I would only take the solo if Eve did.
My big, grand ass gesture… and after we practiced for weeks on that duet, she ghosted us on the day of the competition.
Thank God, this other girl, Gemma had learned Eve’s part and was able to step in to save the show choir.
But I didn’t want to sing with Gemma… I only joined to get closer to Eve.
The memory hits like a punch to the gut.
It took me everything to finally work up the nerve to put myself out there, to show her—hell, to show everyone—that I wasn’t just some gruff farm kid who existed in the background.
And Eve was supposed to be my ride home that night from the competition.
But since she wasn’t there, my mom and dad drove to pick me up.
And on their way, they hit a patch of ice and went off the road, wrapping the car around a tree.
I haven’t sung a damn note since. Not to Aunt May. Not in the shower. Hell, not even to the damn reindeer.
It’s not Eve’s fault, I remind myself. She had no way of knowing that blowing off that competition would set into motion a butterfly effect that would take both my parents from me. I might still harbor a little resentment, but I’m mature enough not to blame her.
Even if I did when I was a teenager. I’m older and wiser now.
“Yeah, well… that was a long time ago. I haven’t sung in years,” I say flatly.
Eve tilts her head, studying me. “Why not?”
Heat flares through me. She doesn’t know. How can she not know?
“Why don’t you call it a day, Eve?” I push back from the table. “You should rest before your big performance, songbird.”
She narrows her eyes. “You’re the worst.”
I grind my teeth and even though I only ate half my soup, I storm out of the kitchen, heading back to the barn to check on the reindeer. “Yeah, that’s what they tell me.”
The town square is packed by the time I show up with Aunt May’s arm linked around my elbow. Twinkling lights cast a golden glow over the crowd, and the massive Christmas tree in the center makes the whole scene look like something out of a Hallmark movie.
“Thanks for taking me,” Aunt May says with a gentle pat to my arm. “Hearing Eve talk about Caroloke reminded me how much I used to love coming here every year.”
“Of course, Aunt May,” I respond. “Anything you want, you get. You know that.” Which is the truth.
Aunt May was more like a grandmother to me.
She was sixteen years older than my dad and practically raised him.
She taught him how to be a reindeer farmer…
and he in turn, taught me. And even though I was only a few months shy of eighteen when my parents died, she didn’t blink an eye and took over raising me for those last few months, picking up teaching me where my dad had left off.
After high school graduation, I couldn’t leave her without help on the farm.
From across the bar, Aunt May spies Eve’s parents and they wave us over to their table near the bar, practically vibrating with excitement. I scan the crowd and don’t see Eve yet, but I spot my best friends, Jack and Nicholas, nursing a couple pints by the bar.
After I deposit Aunt May at the table with Eve’s folks, I head over to them at the bar and order a pint for me and a hot toddy for Aunt May. Jack raises a brow when he sees me and Nicholas slaps his palm down onto my shoulder. “Has hell frozen over?” Jack asks with a laugh.
“Is it actually the elusive Luke Dawson actually here at one of Holly Ridge’s Christmas festival competitions?” Nicholas adds.
“Yeah, yeah. Aunt May insisted.” I nod toward her, where she’s happily chatting with Eve’s mom. ”And you dicks know I can’t say no to Aunt May.”
Jack smirks. “And you being here has nothing to do with a certain high school sweetheart who’s back in town and currently flipping through the karaoke songbook?”
I grunt, taking a sip of my beer instead of answering as Nicholas chuckles. I slide him a glare. “We were never sweethearts.”
“Man, I can’t believe she’s back. After everything that happened…” He shakes his head. “Have you talked to her about it?”
“Nope.”
Jack gives me a knowing look.
He’s about to say something else when a loud voice crackles through the speakers.
The lights dim and a grown ass man dressed as an elf in striped tights runs onto the stage. “Welcome to the nineteenth annual Caroloke! Thanks for coming everyone! We have a packed lineup this year…”
My eyes swing over to where Eve is still flipping through the book of song choices, worrying her bottom lip.
“—So sit back, grab a drink, or three, and let’s get started!”
I down half of my beer as Old Man Duncan takes center stage, singing the Little Drummer Boy.