Page 39 of Christmas Wishes

I wove through the crowd toward the stage set up next to a towering tree wrapped with unlit lights. Riggs’s charcoal stocking cap and Carhartt coat were easy to spot. He stood scowling at the tree like he was daring it not to comply. His scowl revved my engine. I watched him check a few cables as I approached.

“A drink for good luck. Cocoa or cider?”

“Cider. Hard?” He took it from my outstretched hand.

“Not yet, but if you play your cards right.” I winked and raised my cocoa in a cheers.

“This is a family event, Keaton.” His lips curved into a teasing smirk.

Can one sentence get me hard?Signs point to yes.

“Cables looking good?”

He narrowed his eyes as he stared at them. “Yes. So far.” Skepticism dripped from his voice.

“It’ll be fine.” Poor guy. His first tree lighting without Nico. If glaring at electrical wires got him through, more power to him.

“Something’s going to go wrong eventually. We’ve been on the city for years to fix electrical for the square.”

“If that does happen, you’ll be able to fix it. You’re good at what you do, which is why everyone is so demanding of your time. People aren’t blowing up your phone at all hours for appointments if you aren’t good at your job.” I offered him my best encouraging smile. I didn’t have a lot of great skills, but pep talks were one of my best. That skill had single-handedly earned Arlo’s friendship that first week of college.

A few official-looking people moved toward the stage.

“We’d better get out of their way,” Riggs said warily.

We walked into the crowd and stood at the edge near the Jitterbug booth. Lucy caught my eye and winked.

A loud reverb from the mic made me wince.

Someone who introduced themself as the mayor apologized before welcoming people to the seventy-first Christmas Tree Lighting event. That was a hell of a long time to keep a tradition going.

“As we do each year, the Christmas wishes box will be opened for submission through Christmas Eve.” He gestured to a red-and-green closed box next to the giant tree with unlit bulbs wrapped around it.

I risked a glance at Riggs and caught his jaw clenching. I shifted closer to him to offer comfort. He looked down at me.

“Cold.” I rubbed my arms.

“Told you to put a thermal on,” he grumbled while wrapping an arm around my shoulder and rubbing my arm.

Wrapping his arm around me wouldn’t help with Operation Set Riggs Up if eligible bachelors saw him touching me. It wouldn’t help if people thought he was seeing someone, but I was leaving tomorrow, so I supposed it was fine to enjoy his body warmth. After a minute, he dropped his arm, and I immediately missed it.

The mayor introduced someone who had received the Juniper Ridge Citizen of the Year award and said they’d get the honors of flipping the lights on.

I felt Riggs tense next to me, so I reached out and wrapped my gloved hand in his. “Squeeze as hard as you need,” I whispered to him.

He didn’t squeeze, but he intertwined our fingers. My heart leaped into my throat.

The crowd began counting down from ten. With each passing second, stress rolled off Riggs in waves.

“One!” the award recipient yelled into the mic and flipped a switch on an elaborate stand.

Nothing happened.

The crowd remained silent for several seconds.

“Son of a bitch.” Riggs dropped my hand.

“Go. Do what you’ve got to do.” I watched him march to the stage. I could practically see a storm cloud circling over his head.

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