Page 29 of Jingle Bell Flock
Together.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t quite process what Jeremy had just done.
Jeremy was an incredibly private person. While he wasn’t hiding his sexuality, he didn’t broadcast it either. His family had known, obviously, and a couple of his friends did too, but this was different.
Standing in Dockside Café, telling Evie Alder of all people that we were together—this was an announcement. This was him choosing to be seen, knowing full well that by tonight, half of Mistletoe Bay would know that Jeremy Price was dating a man.
He was coming out. Publicly.
For me.
For us.
My throat felt tight. “Jeremy.”
“What?” He glanced at me with a challenge in his eyes. But then it morphed into something that looked more like a question—an “Is this okay?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
It was more than okay. So far beyond okay I didn’t have words for it.
Evie was practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh my god, this is amazing. You two are—wait, Mara is going to lose her mind. She loves a good romance. Especially since she and Graham are all nice and cozy in her family home.”
“Please don’t make this weird,” Jeremy muttered, but there was no real heat in it.
“Too late!” Evie grinned.
“Evie, leave them be and get back here. There’s a pick-up order coming in, and you know I can’t work this espresso machine,” Emmy called out. She was shaking her head andmouthing an apology as Evie practically danced back to her post behind the counter.
Jeremy watched her go, then turned back to me. “Sorry. Should’ve asked if you were okay with?—”
“Don’t.” I cut him off. “Don’t apologize. I’m …” I swallowed around the small lump of emotion that had formed in my throat. “I’m good, Jeremy. Better than good.”
His expression softened again, and I was struck by how different he looked when he let his guard down. How much younger. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He pulled out the chair across from me and sat, wrapping his hands around his coffee mug. “So. You’re a social media monster now, huh?”
I latched onto the subject change, closing my laptop to give him my full attention. “It’s insane. I’m getting messages from people asking about goat yoga. Goat yoga, Jeremy!”
He crossed his arms over his brawny chest. “Fuck that.”
"That’s what I said. Can you imagine my goats in that environment? I love them, but no. Just no.” I shook my head, taking a sip of my now-lukewarm coffee and grimacing slightly. “And then there are the Instagrammers pinging me to find out if they can come to my shop for a cheese-making class. As if I have a shop.”
“Don’t even get me started on the fucking Instagrammers.” Jeremy's scowl was back, but there was amusement underneath it, too. “Had a group yesterday tramping through the field in stilettos. In six inches of snow. One of them almost fell down the back hill trying to get the perfect shot. As it was, she twisted her ankle.”
I laughed, probably louder than the story warranted, but I couldn’t help it. “Did you rescue her?”
“Course I did. Then I told her if she valued her ankles, she should invest in boots.”
“Ever the diplomat.” I grinned, shaking my head at the mental image of Jeremy gruffly helping some Instagram influencer out of a snowbank.
“Somebody’s gotta keep these idiots from killing themselves on my property.”
We fell into easy conversation about the farm, the upcoming event, and the absolute chaos the viral video had created. Jeremy complained about the crowds, about people not understanding how Christmas tree farms actually worked, about having to explain for the hundredth time that no, they couldn’t just come and take pictures. They had to actually buy something.
But underneath the complaints, I could hear the pride in his voice. The satisfaction of seeing his family’s farm thriving in a way it hadn’t in years.
