Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
DECLAN
Brother’s Return
I was standing in the town square at nine-thirty in the morning, holding a bundle of tent stakes that had apparently been designed by someone who’d never actually seen snow, watching the weather try to cancel Christmas like the Grinch, when Matt’s familiar voice cut through the howling wind.
“Well, this looks like a completely rational way to spend a morning.”
I turned to see my best friend since seventh grade trudging through knee-deep snow, wearing a Boston Red Sox beanie and the kind of shit-eating grin that meant he’d already figured out at least three things I didn’t want him to know.
“Matt,” I said, probably too loudly and with the enthusiasm of someone who was definitely not nervous about facing his best friend after having incredible sex with said best friend’s little sister less than forty-eight hours ago. “You made it.”
“Barely,” Matt said, pulling me into the kind of back-slapping hug that suggested he wasn’t immediately planning to punch me in the face for defiling his baby sister.
“The Mass Pike was a nightmare, and once I hit Vermont, it was like driving through a snow globe being operated by an overenthusiastic toddler.”
“Quite,” I said, relieved that he seemed to be in a good mood despite the apocalyptic travel conditions. “How was the drive, really?”
“Long enough to listen to approximately forty-seven Christmas songs and contemplate the life choices that led to me driving five hours through a blizzard to come home for approximately seven days before I do the journey in reverse,” Matt said, surveying the town square with the expression of someone assessing a natural disaster.
“Speaking of questionable life choices, how are things going with the festival coordination?”
The way he said ‘festival coordination’ made me immediately suspicious that he was fishing for information about more than vendor booth placement.
“Fine,” I said carefully. “We’ve got everything under control.”
“We?” Matt repeated, raising an eyebrow. “As in, you and Holly?”
“As in me, Holly, and approximately thirty other volunteers,” I said, gesturing toward the small army of people who were currently attempting to erect vendor booths in conditions that would have challenged arctic explorers.
“Right,” Matt said with the kind of knowing smile that made my stomach clench with dread. “And how’s working with Holly been?”
The question was casual, but Matt had known me for years, which meant he could probably read my expression like a roadmap to my guilty conscience.
“Professional,” I said, which was technically true if you ignored the part where we’d spent Thursday night tangled together in a cabin bed while I made her come so hard, she screamed my name.
“Professional,” Matt repeated slowly, like he was testing the word for authenticity. “That’s interesting.”
“Why is that interesting?”
“Because you look like someone who’s been hit by a truck, and not the good kind of truck,” Matt said, studying my face with the focused attention of someone conducting a psychological evaluation. “The ‘I’m completely fucked because I’m falling for someone I shouldn’t be falling for’ kind of truck.”
Jesus Christ. Was I that obvious?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, turning back to the tent stakes with renewed focus. “We should probably get these booths set up before the volunteers revolt.”
“Declan,” Matt said, and something in his tone made me look at him directly. “Dude. It’s me. You can drop the act.”
“What act?”
“The ‘nothing happened between me and your sister’ act,” Matt said with amusement. “Because you’re about as subtle as a Christmas parade, and Holly’s been acting like someone replaced her coffee with espresso mixed with anxiety medication.”
Fuck. If Matt had noticed Holly’s behavior too, then we were definitely not as good at hiding whatever was happening between us as we’d thought.
“Matt—” I started.
“Finally!” came a voice behind us, and I turned to see Holly approaching through the snow, carrying what appeared to be enough coffee to caffeinate a small nation. “I was wondering when you’d—Matt!”
She set down the thermal containers and launched herself at her brother with the kind of enthusiasm that suggested genuine happiness to see him, rather than anxiety about his potential reaction to recent developments.
“Hey, sis,” Matt said, hugging her back with obvious affection. “You look good. Really good, actually.”
“Thanks,” Holly said, stepping back and immediately avoiding eye contact with me in a way that was probably visible from space. “How was the drive?”
“Terrible, but worth it to see you two pretending you haven’t been—”
“Matt,” Holly interrupted quickly, her cheeks going red in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. “Should we focus on festival setup? We have a lot to coordinate.”
“Right,” Matt smirked. “Festival setup. Very important festival setup that definitely requires both of you to work in close proximity while carefully avoiding eye contact.”
I watched Holly’s expression shift from embarrassment to resignation, like she was realizing that Matt had figured out whatever we’d been trying to hide within approximately thirty seconds of arriving.
“We should probably distribute the coffee,” she said firmly, picking up the thermal containers with the kind of determined efficiency that suggested she was going to maintain professional focus even if it killed her.
“Good idea,” I agreed, grateful for any task that didn’t require explaining my relationship status to my best friend while standing in a blizzard.
Festival setup consumed us like a mission, our movements quick and purposeful.
It’s the universal language of people who’d rather freeze their butts off than admit defeat to a little apocalyptic weather.
The snow kept falling, but Vermonters kept coming, trudging through white drifts with thermoses and toolboxes, looking personally offended by each snowflake.
Matt fell right into the rhythm, commandeering the sound system with his usual take-charge attitude, barking orders like a drill sergeant who’d accidentally wandered onto a Hallmark movie set.
But every time Holly and I came within five feet of each other—which I swear wasn’t intentional, despite what my racing pulse suggested—Matt’s eyebrows would perform an Olympic-level gymnastics routine, his face cycling through expressions that clearly telegraphed: “I know exactly what you two did and I’m already planning how to torture you about it for the next twenty Christmases. ”
“Can you hand me that extension cord?” Holly asked, crouching behind the main stage to check electrical connections.
“This one?” I said, passing her the cord and trying not to notice how her ass looked in her jeans when she bent over, or how our fingers locked for two seconds during the exchange.
“Thanks,” she said, our eyes meeting for just a moment before she quickly looked away.
“Subtle,” Matt said quietly, appearing beside me with a grin that suggested he’d witnessed the entire exchange. “Really smooth, both of you.”
“We’re just coordinating festival logistics,” I said defensively.
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Matt asked. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re both about two seconds away from jumping each other despite the fact that half the town is watching.”
I glanced around the town square and realized he was right. Mrs. Peterson was beaming at us from the hot chocolate station. Sandra was watching our every interaction with obvious satisfaction. Even Bernie was grinning like he’d won the lottery while he adjusted the sound system.
“The entire town knows, doesn’t it?” I said with dawning horror.
“The entire town has been hoping for this since you were teenagers,” Matt said matter-of-factly. “My mom’s been taking bets on how long it would take you two to figure it out.”
“Your mom’s been taking bets?”
“She had Christmas Eve,” Matt said cheerfully. “Though Mrs. Brooks apparently had more faith in your timing—she picked the tree lighting ceremony.”
Mrs. Brooks had picked the tree lighting ceremony. Which meant our mistletoe kiss had won someone money, which was both embarrassing and oddly endearing.
“This is insane,” I muttered.
“This is small-town romance,” Matt corrected. “And honestly, it’s about time.”
Before I could figure out how to respond to that, Holly approached with her clipboard and the kind of focused expression that meant she was about to assign us tasks that would keep everyone too busy for personal conversation.
“Okay,” she said briskly, “vendor booths are almost ready, the caroling schedule is confirmed, and the hot chocolate station is operational. We just need to do final sound checks and make sure the tree lighting system is working properly.”
“I can handle the sound system and tree lighting,” Matt offered.
“So you should. This is your thing that you dumped on us at the last minute,” Holly said, making a note on her clipboard. “Dec, can you help me with the final vendor confirmations? A few people are concerned about the weather affecting attendance.”
The way she shortened my name was both efficient and hot as fuck.
“Sure,” I said, though what I was thinking was that spending more time alone with Holly while her brother conducted romantic surveillance was probably going to test my ability to maintain appropriate boundaries.
As we walked toward the vendor area, I could feel Matt’s eyes on us, and I was fairly certain I heard him chuckling to himself.
“Your brother knows,” I said quietly to Holly as we checked in with the craft vendors.
“My brother always knows,” Holly said with resignation. “It’s like his superpower. That and making inappropriate comments at exactly the wrong moment.”
“Has he said anything to you about... us?”
“He doesn’t need to say anything,” Holly said, waving at Mrs. Johnson from the baked goods booth. “He just gives me these looks like he’s planning to give some kind of embarrassing best man speech at our wedding.”
Our wedding. The casual way she said it made something flutter in my chest that had nothing to do with the anxiety that had been plaguing me for months.
“Is that a problem?” I asked carefully.
“The wedding or the embarrassing speech?” Holly asked, and when I looked at her, she was smiling in a way that suggested she wasn’t entirely opposed to either possibility.
“Either. Both.”
“The speech will definitely be a problem,” Holly said. “But the wedding... we’d have to survive the festival first.”
The way she said it made me think she wasn’t just talking about logistical survival, but emotional survival.
Like getting through the next few days without admitting how we felt about each other, or what the future held in other cities for us, was going to require the kind of strength usually reserved for natural disasters.
“Holly,” I started, but before I could figure out how to tell her that I was rapidly running out of interest in surviving anything that didn’t include her, the sound system crackled to life with Matt’s voice.
“Testing, testing,” he said, his voice echoing across the town square. “Can everyone hear me?”
A chorus of confirmations rose from the assembled volunteers, and Matt’s voice came through again with obvious satisfaction.
“Perfect. Ladies and gentlemen, thanks to some truly heroic setup work in absolutely terrible weather, the Everdale Falls Christmas Festival is officially ready to open!”
Cheers erupted from the volunteers, and I looked around the town square with amazement.
Despite the blizzard, despite the complications, despite everything, we’d actually pulled it off.
The vendor booths were standing, the Christmas lights were twinkling, the hot chocolate station was operational, and the whole square looked like something out of a holiday movie, and mercifully, the snow started to abate.
“We did it,” Holly said, looking around with obvious pride and disbelief.
“We did,” I agreed, though what I was thinking was that the festival was the least impressive thing we’d accomplished. Somehow, despite our best efforts to maintain professional distance, we’d created something between us that felt more real than anything I’d experienced in years.
“All right, everyone,” Matt’s voice came through the speakers again. “Festival officially opens in thirty minutes. Final positions, and let’s show these weather-defying visitors what Vermont Christmas spirit looks like!”
As volunteers scattered to their positions and the first festival attendees began arriving despite the snow, I realized that the next few hours were going to test more than our event coordination skills.
They were going to test whether Holly and I could continue pretending that what was happening between us was a blip in the sea of our professional lives, or if we were finally going to admit that some things were worth risking everything for.
Even if one of those things was my best friend’s little sister, and even if admitting it meant having the most awkward conversation in the history of male friendship.
But first, we had a Christmas festival to run. In a blizzard. While half the town watched us fall in love in real time.
Some days, corporate law seemed like the simpler option.