Chapter 19
HANNAH
The parade is finally happening, and I’m trying desperately not to let my nerves show.
Main Street in Whispering Grove has been transformed into a winter wonderland for this event.
The historic storefronts are decorated with garlands and lights, snow dusting the awnings, and enormous red bows attached to every lamppost. The street itself has been closed off for blocks, rope barriers keeping the massive crowd on the sidewalks while leaving the road clear for the parade floats.
And there are so many people. Way more than I anticipated.
Families with children bundled in winter coats line both sides of the street, standing three-deep trying to get a good view. Vendors are selling hot chocolate and roasted chestnuts from carts positioned at intervals.
I’ve been working on this parade for months, coordinating with float builders, securing permits, hiring support teams, arranging insurance, triple-checking safety protocols. Every detail has been meticulously planned and executed.
And I’m still worried something will go really wrong.
But I’m also still humming from last night with Noel, my body pleasantly sore between my thighs, and I’m so grateful he helped with my pre-heat issues.
The desperate ache has eased significantly, letting me focus on the event instead of climbing the nearest Alpha.
Though, deep down, I know it’s just simmering. Like a volcano building pressure, waiting to erupt. But not today. Please, not today. Get this parade done without a hitch. That’s all I need. Then next week, all focus shifts to the tree lighting celebration.
I’m exhausted but excited for today to be finished successfully.
Chris is standing beside me, so close our bodies are touching from shoulder to hip, and he leans in to whisper near my ear. “It’s going amazing. Coming together so well. You should be proud.”
I smile despite my nerves, some of the tension easing from my muscles. “I know, right? So far, everything’s running on schedule.”
He inhales deeply near my neck. “You smell so fucking good today. Can’t get enough of your scent.”
Heat floods my face, but I can’t help the grin. “Careful, or I’ll think you only keep me around for how I smell.”
“Oh, there are many other reasons.” His hand finds the small of my back, steady and grounding. “But your scent is definitely a perk.”
My phone buzzes with an incoming text, pulling my attention back to work.
Team Lead Alpha Unit: Float 3 released. Running smoothly. ETA Main Street viewing area 4 minutes.
I’m positioned at the optimal viewing spot about halfway down the parade route, earpiece in my ear connected to my coordination team, phone in hand constantly updating with reports.
The system I’ve set up is working beautifully.
Each float has a team leader who reports to me at checkpoints, ensuring everything stays on schedule and any issues are addressed immediately.
So far, everything is smooth. I breathe easier, allowing myself a moment to actually enjoy what I’ve created.
The parade itself is spectacular. The first float that passed was a winter wonderland scene of ice sculptures, performers dressed as snowflakes dancing and waving.
The crowd loved it, children screaming with delight.
The second float featured a giant sleigh pulled by mechanical reindeer, with performers throwing candy to the kids lining the streets. The next float has everyone dressed up in red and white pants and shirts, collecting donations from people in the crowd for the local food bank.
And now I hear the excitement building as another float rounds the corner into view.
A huge inflatable balloon character, some cartoon Christmas elf I vaguely recognize from a popular kids’ show, bobs along above the float, handlers gripping guide ropes to keep it steady. The float itself is decorated to look like a toy workshop, with elves building toys and waving to the crowd.
After that, the parade settles into a steady, glittering rhythm.
A high school marching band comes next, uniforms a little too big, brass blaring slightly offbeat as they stomp out “Jingle Bell Rock.” Behind them is a choir from one of the churches, carolers in matching scarves, walking in a tight formation and harmonizing like this is their Olympic event.
More floats roll past in a blur of tinsel and themed clusters.
The local hockey team rides in the back of a truck strung with fairy lights, tossing mini candy canes and acting like they’re too cool to care while clearly loving every second.
A basketball team jogs behind, dribbling balls, with “Merry X-mas” spelled out on the fronts of their jerseys.
Then come the politicians in their shiny, decorative cars, convertibles crawling along at a snail’s pace—mayors, some council members, and a few hopeful candidates all doing the careful, vote-for-me wave.
Local businesses follow, each trying to out-festive the last. There’s even a float for the Whispering Grove bookshop, stacked with oversized cardboard books and a grinning elf mascot perched on a throne of wrapped boxes.
Then the farmers take their turn. Tractors rumble down the street, polished within an inch of their lives and wound with strings of lights.
One has a trailer full with hay bales and kids in flannel shirts; another drags a flatbed lined with potted fir trees.
A pair of ponies clip-clop past with braided manes and red ribbons at their bridles, followed by a very unimpressed line of goats in tiny knitted sweaters and tinsel-wrapped collars, each being tugged along by a determined kid in snow boots.
Somewhere in the middle of all that, the Parade Queen arrives, the girl whom the town voted for at the fall fair.
She’s riding on a snow-globe-themed float, dressed as a snow princess in a white cloak trimmed with faux fur, tiara sparkling under the streetlights.
Fake snow drifts around her from hidden blowers, and she gives that practiced royal wave like she’s been training for this moment her entire life.
By the time another school band squeaks its way through and a final cluster of carolers trails past, my toes are numb, my cheeks ache from smiling, and a good fifty minutes have blurred by in a whirl of lights, music, and too much sugar from all the candy thrown from the floats.
The crowd is cheering, singing along, and the energy is electric.
This is working.
“See?” Chris says, squeezing my waist gently. “Told you it would be perfect.”
“Don’t jinx it.”
He laughs. “Always the pessimist.”
My earpiece crackles. “Next float is being released now. Your personal favorite.”
I grin because I know exactly what’s coming. Around the corner, I hear the crowd’s excitement spike, children squealing, adults laughing, and then I see them.
Kane and Noel, dressed in full elf costumes, walking four of their reindeer down the center of Main Street.
The costumes are ridiculous and perfect, green-and-red-striped tights, pointed shoes with bells, tunics with jingle bells sewn all over, pointed hats with more bells. Their faces are painted with rosy cheeks and exaggerated smiles.
But nothing can hide how absolutely built they are. The costumes strain across their muscular frames, and they move with that confident grace that screams “dangerous men pretending to be whimsical.”
They’re holding the reindeer by decorative red and green reins, walking ahead of them with elf-like prancing that makes the crowd roar with laughter.
The reindeer—not Corn Dog, because we all agreed he’d cause absolute chaos—are behaving beautifully, occasionally stopping to let children pet their noses over the rope barriers.
Kane spots me and winks outrageously, blowing me a kiss that makes several women near me sigh audibly. Noel catches my eye and smirks, then does an elf dance move that has the crowd screaming.
I’m laughing, some of my stress evaporating.
“Your elves are a hit,” Chris observes, amusement clear in his voice.
“They’d better be. Took me an hour to convince them to wear those costumes again.”
Around me, I don’t miss how women are openly ogling the elves, some making comments loud enough for me to hear. “I need those elves to visit my house this Christmas,” one woman says to her friend, fanning herself dramatically.
“Forget Santa. And to hell with Elf on the Shelf. I want that elf to myself!” another agrees.
They wish. They’re with me. All three of them.
As Kane and Noel pass my position, leading the reindeer toward the rest of the parade route, I hear people around me continuing to talk about how adorable and sexy the elf-reindeer combination was.
Good. That’s excellent. Memorable moments are what make events successful. My phone buzzes again.
Team Lead Bravo Unit: Next float releasing. ETA 3 minutes.
The centerpiece of the entire parade. I crane my neck to see down the street where it should be appearing soon.
The crowd’s excitement is building again, parents lifting children onto shoulders for a better view, everyone pressing closer to the barriers.
Then I see it rounding the corner several blocks away.
An enormous float, a two-story workshop scene with Santa standing on an elevated platform at the top, waving to the crowd.
The platform has a small guardrail around it for safety, accessed by stairs built into the structure.
Someone is inside the float, operating the vehicle that moves it forward.
The whole thing is wrapped in thousands of Christmas lights that were supposed to create a magical glow.
But the lights are flickering. On, off, on again, then a section goes dark completely before sputtering back to life.
My stomach drops.
I had all the floats inspected and triple-checked by licensed electricians. Every wire, every connection, every power source was verified as safe.
This shouldn’t be happening.
Chris notices too, his body tensing beside me. “The lights on the Santa float—”
“I see it.”