Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
I come to win.
Later that afternoon in the town square, I call Wilder and Mac into a huddle next to a spruce tree. We’re dressed for speed—fleece pullovers, jeans, and snow boots. Even though Mac has been competing in the kid’s division for other events, the Christmas-tree-decorating competition allows teams to pull in younger members too.
“Here’s the plan. We’re going to execute a Retro X with two running backs,” I say, giving a football-esque play name to my plans. “Mac and me.”
I tell them the rest of my approach for this supermarket sweep-style Christmas-tree-decorating competition. Each team has thirty minutes to decorate a tree right here in the town square. You can use the first five minutes of that to scoop up ornaments from various boxes in the middle of the square. They’ve been gathered from donations over the years. Volunteers wait next to the boxes to open them when the timed contest begins.
After I review the strategy, I finish with, “It all comes down to how you line everything up on the tree.”
“Got it,” Mac says with a crisp nod, her game face on.
I break the huddle as we wait for the starting whistle. The sun is dipping low on the horizon so we’ll finish after sunset, then turn on the trees.
Wilder turns to me, approval in his eyes. “You’re like a quarterback.”
“I like football, and I like strategy,” I say, owning it.
“Hot,” he whispers.
I laugh, glad he’s not stressing over his dad. Glad he took my advice. Maybe this is what it would be like if we were a real couple—helping each other, supporting each other.
Is he thinking that too? I hope so, but he turns his attention to Mac, who’s staring at the boxes in the center of the square like she has X-ray vision.
“Are visions of Christmas trees dancing in your head?” he asks her.
“I’m just trying to psych out the competition,” she says, then nods subtly to Brady and Iris in the corner who are jogging in place by a Douglas fir, like jogging will help them decorate faster. “Especially that guy. He’s kind of a jerk.”
More than kind of. But I’m curious why she’s labeled him. “Why do you say that?”
“Because he doesn’t like cats. He said so at the shower when he ran into Penguin in the hallway after he used the bathroom.”
Wilder scoffs. “That settles it. Reason enough to beat him.”
“I don’t trust people who don’t like animals,” Mac adds, crossing her arms.
“One hundred percent reasonable approach to life,” I say as Mayor Bumblefritz strides into the square with his megaphone at his side.
He smiles grandly as he weaves through the boxes full of mismatched ornaments.
I think back to when Wilder and I began this fake romance in his office for the sake of his aunt. She asked me pointedly if I was good at Christmas tree decorating. When I’d told her I knew my way around a string of lights, she’d said, “Then I hope you beat that Brady character in the competition.”
I don’t care about Brady anymore, but I do care about Wilder’s aunt so this one is for Bibi. I want to win for her. Because the Evergreen Falls Annual Best in Snow Winter Games Competition matters to her. They’re her Olympics. They’re her big game. I’m going to do my best for her since she’s been so good to me.
Maybe that’ll make up for the guilt I feel about lying to her—even though when I look at the handsome, brilliant man by my side, nothing feels fake anymore.
I also want to do my best for another person. For this fabulous young woman Wilder’s raising. I look at Mac, my heart filling with warmth for her spirit, her mind, and her feisty attitude that I admire.
I could get lost in these warm and fuzzy feelings, though, so I’m glad Mayor Bumblefritz is climbing up the steps to the gazebo now. We take our places by our designated trees. A crowd has gathered around the square to watch the competition.
The mayor brings that candy cane megaphone to his mouth. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, humans of all ages! You’ll have thirty minutes to decorate your tree. You’ll each need to grab what you want from these boxes of ornaments. No new ornaments were purchased for the games. These have all been donated so they’re getting a second chance in our contest as they do every year.” He takes a beat. “There’s no telling what kind of festive magic you’ll create with these. The Christmas spirit is all about making the most with what you have, wouldn’t you agree?”
There is a collective murmur of yes from the contestants as we eagerly wait for him to announce the theme. He takes a weighty beat. “The theme this year is open to each individual team’s interpretation.” Another pause. “And it’s…home for the holidays. Let the tree-decorating competition begin!”