Page 63 of The Snuggle is Real
A crowd that was staring at me.
Me and Ford.
“Here,” Ford said, turning to hand me the wassail cocktail. It was cranberry colored, with a stick of cinnamon, and smelled sweet.
But anything would do.
I took a big gulp. The sooner I got some liquor in me, the less awkward it would be under everyone’s stares. Becauseeveryone was watching.
“So, what now?” Ford asked, blissfully ignorant of the crowd’s attention. “Shall we go enter the raffle or just meander? Mik said they’ve got a few games going. An antler ring toss over in the corner, Christmas charades across the bar, and um…a jingle bell hunt? Not really sure what that is.”
Just then a loud ringing cut across the bar, followed by cheers. Laura Mills—who I’d briefly met as the wife of a job candidate for the city manager position Taylor wanted—held up a bell, wildly ringing it. “That makes three! I’m winning that date with Heath Kelly!”
“Uh-oh,” Ford joked. “A date with Heath Kelly? Do we need to get in on this action for you?”
My face grew hot. “Uh, no, that’s okay. I’m a fan, but I’m not, you know,interestedlike that.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really? Huh.”
I licked my lips. “And, um, you should probably know…”
He leaned in to hear me better. Which was making the stares, winks, and whispered asides even worse. “What is it, Mase? Why do you look worried?”
“I didn’t really consider this, but um, I’m pretty sure everyone here thinks we’re on a date.”
Ford drew back, brow furrowed. “A date?”
“Yeah, like…” I waved a hand between us. “You and me. At Cocktail Hour together.”
Ford glanced around, noticing the onlookers.
“I’m sorry,” I rushed out. “I’m gay, and people know that, but I didn’t consider— I mean, obviously you’re not and they should knowthattoo. Everyone gets so hung up on the gossip that they forget tothinkstraight!”
Ford barked a laugh.
“Why is that funny?” I asked, taken aback.
“Think straight.” He laughed again. “They’re not thinkingstraight.”
“Oh.” I chuckled, catching on. “They’re really not.” I bit my lip. “Sorry.”
Ford captured my chin in his big hand, using a thumb to tug my lip free of my teeth—which did nothing to put those rumors to rest, or the traitorous flutters of hope in my gut, for that matter.
“Don’t worry about it, Mase. I know who I am. I don’t care what they think.”
I swiped my tongue over my bottom lip, nervous under Ford’s intent gaze. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah.” He smirked. “But your blush is real cute.”
“Oh my god.” My face blazed like a heater and I lifted one hand to my hot cheek.
Ford grinned and tossed back half his drink. “Come on. Let’s do that raffle.”
There were a number of door prizes, including a handcrafted Christmas village, a snow globe depicting Christmas Falls, and in honor of the festival organizer, Griff—who was fondly called Grinch—a whole set of grinch-themed ornaments.
And of course the grand prize: a date with Heath Kelly.
Ford showed the volunteer at the table his festival voucher.
