The Christmas Grinch - Rebel Hart Page 0,23

the family’s usual favorite, but it was mine. And we’d be hard pressed to find anything else there that compared.

I snatched the whistle from his chest and leaned in to blow hard so the others could hear and come running. Our eyes locked as I signaled for them, leaving us too close and too caught up in each other's looks by the time the whistle fell back to his hard chest. We got lost there longer than we should have, and were still staring at each other when my family came running up.

10

Chris

Hazel’s family came rushing in like a hoard of special ops military soldiers on a high priority mission. They each had their own methods of testing to see if the tree was up to their standards, which they set to performing straight away. It was a whirlwind to watch, but I was still caught up in the weirdness that happened between Hazel and me before they all showed up. Was I crazy...or did we just have a moment?

Mr. Malone had the final say on the tree, which he decided he was in favor of. Soon it was chopped down and loaded into the back of his truck, but apparently the festivities were far from over.

“Now the real fun begins,” Payton grinned as our group walked back down to the main cottage at the farm entryway.

We filed inside to warm up by the fire with hot chocolate while peoples’ kids gathered at a table to make cutout paper snowflake chains and Christmas cards. Some food trucks set up along the main lot, serving an assortment of festive dishes like ham and gourmet focaccia. Lights were strung up all around with Christmas music softly drifting through the air, mixed in with all the spicy, sweet scents.

More than taking the whole scene in, I found myself enraptured with Hazel taking it all in. Her eyes lit up with a familiar comfort and delight. She’d sigh contently every few minutes as she looked around, smiling ear to ear with her freckled rosey cheeks.

Our bickering and small talk faded as we walked along the heated paths around the party, our shoulders brushing together every few steps. I told myself we were staying close together because it was cold. That was it, wasn’t it? But I became less certain the more her eyes focused on me.

I had to admit, it was all starting to get to me. The music and magic in the air...the reflection of all the twinkling lights in her green eyes. The smell of cinnamon and chocolate as we sipped from the to-go cups in our hands. More than that, she was getting to me. For annoying as she seemed at first, a little more time and she was starting to become something else...something that was endearing more than irritating.

By the time we circled back around to the cottage gift shop, chestnuts were roasting on the fire and eggnog was being served. I happily accepted two servings and pulled Hazel off into a corner.

“I have a little something to make this even better,” I whispered, pulling a flask from my front coat pocket.

Her eyes grew wide and mischievous. “Chris Palmer, you devil.” She held up her cup and waited for me to add a few dashes of whiskey to hers.

“And did I just hear you say even better? As in, you think it’s already good...even without the alcohol?”

I looked around with a grin. “It’s not bad. Or at least not as bad as I expected.”

“See...you just trust me more often. I know what I’m doing. You may not be a lost cause after all.” She nudged my arm as she swung back and forth with a satisfied smile before taking a sip of her spiked eggnog. “Mmmmm, just what we needed. It’s good. And it’ll help us get into the next portion of events.”

“There’s more?” I groaned, although I cared less with the warm whiskey rolling down my throat and the buzz of Hazel hanging around.

“The games!” she shrieked, doing a little happy dance.

“Games?” I cringed.

She shuffled me outside where her family had already gathered with the other seasoned attendees. There was corn hole with red and green beanbags, a pie eating contest, and reindeer ring toss. And that was just what I could see being set up directly around us. There was even more going on further down the hill.

“Pick your poison,” she waved across the scene. “But I should warn you...I get a little competitive.”

“Why am I not surprised?”