Saylor fingered the glass, imagining what it must look like to a bird. A reflection of the outside world perhaps, catching the sunlight at just the right angle to deceive, while those on the inside could see it clearly for what it was.
The undertone wasn’t lost on her—things weren’t always what they seemed. She sighed, retrieving her phone.
That’s fine, she finally replied to David, hearing her mother’s voice in her head telling her to grow a backbone. But her mother didn’t understand the fear that walked hand-in-hand with a broken heart. She would get through this weekend. That would be that.
With a final exhale, Saylor skimmed through her texts once more. She’d almost forgotten about Cole’s question, about whether or not she liked Christmas lights.
She’d sent a joking reply to him. Who doesn’t?
I’m sure there are a few Grinch’s out there who don’t appreciate them, he said. But I know you aren’t among them. You did jump a fence just to see Santa Claus.
She couldn’t help but chuckle, and it lightened her mood slightly. She wiped a hand across her cheek, her chest quivering.
I love Christmas lights, she typed, but as you said, Christmas is over.
They won’t take them down until New Years. Want to come see some with me tonight?
The adrenaline from crying so unexpectedly left her body weak, but alert. She licked her lips. Christmas lights with Cole. She could think of nothing better, right this second.
I’d love to.
Chapter Eight
Snow grazed the fields, creating a white sheet beneath the darkness. Moonlight stroked the snow, making it glisten. While it was incredible, they hadn’t seen much of anything but the occasional house for miles now.
“Just how far out is this place?” Saylor asked, tapping her fingers in time to the music of Cole’s radio. His pickup was warm; the leather seat heated beneath her like a hug. What she wouldn’t give for heated seats in her car.
“Thirty minutes, give or take. We’re not far.”
“That’s a long drive just to see Christmas lights.”
Cole slid her a look. “These aren’t just any Christmas lights. Oh, look. Here they are.” He pointed to the left.
Tiny stars of red, gold, green, and blue glimmered, making a festive circus of the night sky and the snow. They climbed and spread the closer they got, capturing Saylor’s breath as well as her attention.
“Wow,” she said, hearing Parker chastise her for the use of the word. In this case, however, it was completely justified.
“Just wait until you see it up close,” Cole said, turning into the lot. The gas station where the lights were located was just an afterthought. The lights stole the show, casting their glowing net across the surrounding area like a wonderland.
Cole entered the roped-off area, marked by twine and a large number of vehicles, including a truck with its wide trailer taking up a large segment of the lot toward the back. Ahead, a path lit by columns of white, twinkling lights, and large, crisscrossed candy canes clearly shouted, “Start here,” without having to spell a single syllable.
“Shall we?” Cole asked when he killed the ignition in his gray Dodge. While Saylor hated to leave the comfortable leather seat with its very convenient heater, she figured this was a worthy trade.
“Let’s,” she said.
She lumped her cream beanie with its single puff onto her head, slipped her hands into her digital-friendly gloves with the fancy fingertip that let her use her phone even when it was cold, and slid out.
Her boots sank into wet snow, which had been made slush by all the traffic this place apparently received. Cole sidled around, lips quirked and looking far too tempting, and together they muddled through the slush toward the candy cane-marked path and the small city of lit trees.
She gazed up at cascading pine trees-turned-light-sculptures, their branches tangled with pink flamingo lights, pineapple lights, jalapeño, and even snowflake and motorcycle lights. Every light, in every single style, shape, and color imaginable, lined the trees along the path.
“So?” he prodded, elbowing her, their feet crunching the snow.
“This is unbelievable,” she said, taking in the equally fantastic sight of lit Santas, reindeer, and snowmen. A covered archway of lights beckoned them onward, surrounded by trees whose trunks were spiraled by the glow.
The sight was truly magical. It required no words for the time being, so they walked, enjoying the view from all angles in the colorful daze. Saylor was so mesmerized, she hardly noticed the cold.
“Can you imagine the time it would take to create all of this?” she asked, admiring one towering tree whose every branch was coiled by twinkling lights.
“Months,” said Cole, inspecting the same tree. The yellow light set shadows off his face and brought out the line of his jaw. “It has to. I hear they even have a camel this year.”
Without thinking, Saylor grabbed his arm. “You’re kidding. Where?”
She tiptoed up, her breath exhaling in puffs as she skimmed through the glow. Cole searched as well—he had a better vantage point, being several inches taller than she was.
“There,” he said, pointing with a gloved hand toward the large barn. Saylor squealed in excitement before she realized her hand was still on his arm.
“Oh. Sorry.”
“You’re keeping me warm,” he said, not letting her slip away. He guided her arm through his this time and rested his hand over hers with a maddening smirk. Her stomach danced at the touch, and together they walked toward a crowd surrounding a large, glassed-in village display.
“Tell me about you, Saylor Bates,” Cole said, peering down at a tiny couple ice skating on a mirrored lake. “Have you always lived in Twin?” He resorted to the colloquial name all the locals used for the city.
“I grew up in Rexburg,” she said. Just over two hours from Twin Falls.
“What led you
