Until Ruby, Fred, and I got the same idea and cheered wildly—everyone joining in with us. The band started up, and phone flashlights came out across the crowd as an impromptu street party kicked off.

Fred leaned into me. “Told you it would be memorable. Now, fancy some mulled apple juice?”

“Ew, no!” That sounded god-awful. “Why would anyone drink moldy apple juice?”

Fred laughed. “No, not moldy. Forget it—you’ll see what I mean.”

So we weaved our way out through all the dancing and, as we reached the edge, the lights finally flicked on.

I couldn’t help but stop. The village looked gorgeous, so Christmassy. Even better than in Mom’s photos. I took so many photos for her and even a video to show Grams when I was back. The band was playing “White Christmas,” her favorite song.

Ruby had to head home, so Fred and Colin got in line while I went to have a look around. I swung my legs over the railings next to the green and headed toward the fairy lights on the middle of the merry-go-round. I sat on a swing and swished back and forward, scrolling through the photos I’d taken. What could I post next? Bald Santa and Chicken Nugget moment were gold, but not exactly Dove levels of perfection. And when she said cute guy, as much as someone like Fred was my definition, all scruffy hair and big, brown eyes and a smile that took up his whole face, I had a feeling that was not what she was after. Someone like Logan was much, much more her type.

“So, have you been naughty or nice this year?” A guy’s voice made me jump. I put my feet on the floor and stopped swinging.

Woody.

Face-to-face with a moral dilemma. A really cute moral dilemma.

“Kind of creepy.” I sat more upright. After what I heard yesterday, what he did to Holly, I felt like I was going into battle even though I wasn’t 100 percent sure what the war was. His smooth smile disappeared. Had I caught him off guard?

“Sorry… I, erm…” He waved at a friend in the distance, which gave him the second he needed to get his Woody-ness back. In his other hand was a cone of fries, the paper wrapper covered in snowmen. “You’re Elle, aren’t you?”

I raised my hand as if guilty as charged. “What gave it away, y’all?” As if I’d ever say that back home. Still, he didn’t know me—so I might as well live up to the version he might have seen. “Although, hot tip. Next time try and find out before following someone to an empty play area.”

“Fair.” He chewed his fry slowly, not hurrying to finish whatever he was saying. “I didn’t mean to alarm you.”