Page 99 of Merry Fake Bride

I lose Martin there as he accepts the challenge to guess the meat while taking as many taste samplers as he can get away with.

Hank operates a woodworking stall with one of his friends and after a quick chat, he directs me toward the school where Devon is busy helping the children with some activities.

Burying my hands in my woolen coat, I trudge through streets swept free of snow until I find the school and spot Devon a few minutes later.

Her hair sticks out in the crowd like a warm beacon and my heart jumps at the sight of her.

She’s clapping her hands and stomping her feet while a gaggle of children running in circles around several snowmen, many of whom have multiple noses haphazardly shoved onto their faces.

As music plays, kids laugh and trip over one another while dancing and running.

Then the music stops.

Chaos ensues.

The children may as well have been running military drills from the way they tackle one another to get to the snowmen and thrust their carrots home into the faces of the snowmen.

Those who succeed cheer heartily, but those who miss, or whose carrots don’t have what it takes to stay attached to the snowmen, trudge back to their parents, utterly dejected.

“It’s a bloodbath,” I say quietly after approaching Devon from the rear.

She whirls around to face me, her lips breaking into a wide, warm smile as she laughs softly. “You should have seen them when they were dry ice fishing.”

“Ice fishing?” Stopping next to her, I make sure there’s some distance between us, but Devon closes it and bumps her shoulder into my arm.

“It’s basically bowls of icing sugar with candied fish hidden inside, and every kid gets a few seconds to dig around and see how many fish they can get. The more fish, the better the prize.”

“Wow. Who comes up with this kind of stuff?”

“I do,” Devon protests softly, chuckling. “Trust me, if you were six years old, this would be the best game you ever played.”

Watching the excited smiles, cheers, and even the smiling kids getting their eyes dried by their parents all seem to be having a blast. “I have no doubt,” I assure her.

“But you’re here!” She turns to face me, her eyes wide. “Why are you here?” There’s a note of worry in her tone that she fails to hide.

“I couldn’t stay away,” I reply honestly, hoping to soothe her. “Nothing bad has brought me here. Just you.”

Our eyes meet and her cheeks flush pink, but just as her lips part to speak, a child comes running up to her, sobbing while holding a snapped carrot.

That immediately catches her attention, and we don’t get a chance to talk again until the gaggle of kids, accompanied by parents, enter the Christmas maze set up by the townsfolk. It covers the entire field I had my helicopter land in not long ago, and while I’d be content to remain outside, Devon has other ideas.

She takes my hand and soon, we’re neck deep in the maze, as lost as everyone else.

“Why did you come?” Devon asks softly as we walk hand in hand over snow-covered ground, surrounded by bundles of twigs and hay piled high enough that even I can’t peek over the edge.

“Because of you, Devon,” I reply softly, gazing at her.

She doesn’t look at me.

Her attention is fixed on the path in front of us, but her hand remains locked in mine.

“I’m not here to play games with you.

Other than this,” I say with a light laugh. “But you kissed me yesterday. And after telling me you didn’t have feelings for me, after making me think the previous moments of weakness were just that, weakness, I feel like you weren’t completely honest with me.”

Her fingers flex in my grip.

“I’m not accusing you of anything.”