Page 54 of Meet Me on Mistletoe Lane

The temperatures were already dropping below freezing by the time I searched for the Baileys that evening in the town square. As was tradition, every business on Mistletoe Lane turned off the lights on their buildings so that the tree could be the true center of attention when lit for the first time.

Jo, Sam, and Isaiah walked up together and waved at me before coming over. Jo pulled out her gloves and slipped them on, rubbing her hands together in front of her face. “So have they arrived yet?”

“Not yet.” I craned my neck and jumped up and down a couple times, but it was no use. I couldn’t see over anyone in this crowd.

Sam sighed and crouched down in front of me. “Get on,” he said.

“Excuse me?” I looked to Jo, but she shrugged in confusion.

He patted his shoulders. “You’ll never see them coming from down there. Hop on.”

I stepped back. “I dunno, Sam, what if—”

I break you.

Or I break me if I fall to my death from your super-tall shoulders.

Or…

“I won’t let you fall, G.” He looked down at me, his freckles glowing under the nearby lamplight. “We’ve done this a million times.”

Yeah, like, in elementary school.

But the lighting would start any minute, and I did promise James I’d be with him and his dad to kick off Operation Ho Ho Humbug. I sighed. “Okay. But if I’m too heavy just—”

“I’ve got you,” Sam said.

I walked up and swung my legs around either side of his neck, trying not to think about the way my entire body pulsed with heat from being this close to him. He tucked both forearms around my shins, and stood up faster than I expected.

I squealed and threw my hands over his face.

“Can’t see, Mancini,” he said, his voice muffled.

“Oh, sorry.” I moved my hands to the top of his head, adjusting the beanie that I’d messed up.

“You good?” he asked.

The dormant butterflies stirred back to life once again, bouncing around my stomach so wildly that I wondered if Sam could feel them too. “I’m good,” I lied.

After a couple of minutes of slowly spinning around, I spotted James and Mr. Bailey at the edge of the crowd on Mistletoe Lane and called out to them, waving. James tapped his dad’s shoulder, and they both wove through the crowd toward me.

Sam lowered me to the ground just as the Baileys appeared in front of us—Mr. Bailey was on his phone, naturally—and stood back up, adjusting his hooded winter coat.

“Thanks,” I said, my heart still pounding.

Because of the spinning and heights.

Obviously.

He gave me a small smile and said, “Anytime,” before disappearing into the crowd. Jo had gone a moment ago, too, probably not wanting to remind Mr. Bailey of her “Krampus” comment.

“Good evening, sir,” I said to Mr. Bailey after he hung up.

He tapped on a few things.

“Dad.” James nudged him. “You said you were going to leave it behind.”

“Well, that was before I got a hellacious email from Milton…” He mumbled something inaudible before putting his phone in his coat pocket. “Good to see you, Gianna.” He spun to face the huge tree. “Quite a turnout.”