Page 20 of The Holiday Exchange

I insist on paying, and though it takes a little begging, he lets me. We finish exploring the town, and I love that Briar doesn’t rush me, even though none of this is new for him. Afterward, we make our way back to the farm to help his dad for a couple of hours, then to the house for dinner.

“We can ride together to the tree lighting,” Donna says. I look over at Briar, who’s looking at me as if to say it’s up to me.

When I give him a small nod, he says, “Sure, Mom. That’d be great.”

Before I know it, we’re back downtown, Jeffrey driving and looking around for a parking spot. It’s even busier than it was earlier, and I have a feeling the whole town is out here for the tree lighting.

“Wow, great turnout.”

“It’s the event of the season,” Donna says. “Did Briar tell you he volunteered to help with the tree lighting when he was in high school? It was him and Mark. There was a little snafu that year, and the tree went up in flames.”

“Gee, thanks for making me look good in front of my boyfriend, Ma,” he jokes.

“Was it your fault?” I ask.

“No, it wasn’t,” Jeffrey replies instead. “Briar takes the blame for things he shouldn’t. Some might say he gets it from me.”

I look over at Briar. “I can see that about him. People who care about others often do that. They just want everything to be perfect.”

Briar cocks his head slightly, one of those moments where it’s like he’s not sure what I’m thinking or surprised at what he hears.

“You know my son well…and you appreciate him. That means a lot to me,” Donna tells me. “You’re a good match for my Briar. He deserves someone who really sees him.”

The thing is, I do. Even before I knew him as well as I do now, I think I saw him.

“The two of you are going to make me blush,” Briar jokes, but I can tell he’s unsure how to react.

“You’re cute when you do,” falls out of my mouth, without any thought from my brain. I wish I could suck the words back. That’s not the kind of flirting we’ve had in this little charade of ours.

Briar opens his mouth, but before he has the chance to say anything, his dad shouts, “Found one!” and pulls into a parking spot, killing the conversation.

The four of us climb out of the car, and Jeffrey immediately takes Donna’s hand. I wonder if I should do the same with Briar, but I don’t want to overstep.

Main Street is lit up with multicolored lights and packed with people. Toward the end of the road there’s a huge tree in the space they’d been working on earlier in the day, glimmering shop windows looking like they’re spotlighting it from behind.

It’s tough to find a comfortable spot in the crowd, but we do our best. The mayor talks for a little while, and then a group of young kids comes out on a makeshift stage and sings. The second the tree lights up,oohsandaahsfills the air around us.

Briar’s warm arm presses against mine, and I lean into it, hoping the pressure of my touch tells him how much I really want to be here, how much I like him, how perfect this feels.

I feel like a child looking at the tree, the joy and wonderment you feel when you’re young, only now, I’m getting it here, in this moment, with this man I desperately want to be mine.

When I drop my head against his shoulder, Briar sucks in a breath, then wraps his arm around me.

Everything feels perfect.

Magical.

9

BRIAR

The weekbefore Christmas in our small town is a whirlwind of holiday activities on steroids. But surprisingly, I’m enjoying it as much as Dawson. Seeing it through his eyes is making me feel like that hopeful kid again. And last night at the tree lighting it felt so real between us. But also scary because it seems like the lines are blurring, at least on my end.

Plus, I can’t stop thinking about what he said to Wilson at Hattie’s. Was it a true confession that he was drawn to me from the beginning at Sip and Savor, or was he only playing the part? Either way, I liked how that made me feel, and him acting all protective of me only added to the intensity. Not that I needed saving from the townsfolk, but it was tiring hearing similar comments from people equally surprised to see I’d brought someone home.

Christ, relationships aren’t the end all be all. But I sure have acted like they are, haven’t I? Dawson’s right that I’ve made a good life for myself regardless. I don’t need a boyfriend. I just wanted someone to spend my time with. But all the men I’ve dated over the years didn’t feel the same about me, so it’s better to be alone until a good one comes along. Or the rightone. Someone like Dawson, who is the epitome of what a good boyfriend would look like. Kind, affectionate, considerate, fun. And of course, hot.

I watch as he and my mom laugh over something our seasonal worker, Connie, said as he helps her straighten the tablecloth with Blooming Acres embroidered across it. He fit right in, helping pack the boxes and assisting me with the tent when we got to our assigned spot on Main Street.