Page 55 of A Cozy Kind of Christmas
“I still can’t believe you’ve done this, Meg. I know I already said it, but it’s seriously so cool that you’re a legit journalist,” Matt yelled over the howl of an engine as another shot off a jump like a missile. The rider gripped tight as they sailed overhead before slamming back to the ground with bone-chilling force.
“I don’t know about legit, but yeah, I guess technically speaking, I have my press credentials.” She winked and focused her gaze on the finish line. She didn’t want to miss the final moment. The energy had grown as the race entered the final lap. Everyone was on their feet, chanting and waving colorful red and green flags in the air in anticipation of the finish.
The race was a blur of motion and chaos. Snarling engines growling like a pack of ravenous wolves and fearless adrenaline junkies leaning into impossible turns with effortless grace.
She could work with this. There was an angle there, somewhere.
She could feel the threads of a story starting to take shape—something along the lines of the recklessness and grit mixed with the whimsy and awe-inspiring feats.
The cozy element still needed work, but she would find it. She always did.
The announcers added to the tension, calling the play-by-play farther out on the course.
Meg bounced from one foot to the other to keep warm.
Why couldn’t she think of anything clever to say when Matt was around? Was he picking up on the weirdness between them, too?
He used to be the person she could say anything to, but now she was struggling to come up with anything that didn’t sound like forced small talk.
“Here they come, folks!” The announcer saved her. “It’s neck and neck.”
She held up a finger. “This is it. Get ready.”
“Oh, I’m ready.” Matt circled his flag, whipping it in the air with the rest of the crowd.
Meg angled the camera on the finish line as two snowmobiles came into view, squealing at full throttle as they hurtled toward them. She hit record and planted her feet firmly.
The all-terrain vehicles sailed across the line at such a breakneck speed that Meg couldn’t tell which one had edged out the other.
“And our winner is—Santa’s Sleigh,” the announcer boomed into the microphone as cheers erupted from the crowd.
“I would have said it was Rudolph.” Matt pointed to the snowmobile in second place, decked out with a bulbous red nose and deer antlers. “That was a photo finish. Did you get it?”
“Did I get it?” Meg tapped her press badge. “Remember, I’m a legit journalist with seven years of experience.Please. Of course I got it. You’re dealing with a pro here.”
“Sorry. How could I forget?” Matt’s blue eyes twinkled, making Meg lose her footing and nearly slip on the snowywalkway. He caught her arm, letting his hand linger for a moment. “The best pro in the biz, if you ask me.”
Meg felt heat creep into her cheeks.
“What now?” Matt asked, his hand still curled around her arm.
She froze in place. She hadn’t realized quite how tightly he was holding her until his familiar touch sent a jolt of warmth spiraling up toward her shoulder.
He must have felt it, too, because he let go quickly and took a step back.
Meg’s heart sank. The brief contact made her hungry for more. She wanted to pour her heart out to him, to apologize for ghosting him and blaming him. It wasn’t his fault, but she’d been too raw to see it, and now it was too late.
“Uh, you probably have a lot to do to prep for your big bash tonight.” She wondered if he could see how red she was.
She scanned the crowd for Johanna. They needed a buffer. This much time alone with Matt was making her fluttery.
“Nah, Lucinda is all over it. It’s her thing, really.”
“But it’s your birthday.”
“Sure, technically, but the party isn’t only for my birthday. It’s for the company.”
“I don’t understand. The invite was clear—Matt’s thirtieth birthday bash, right?”
