need to keep up the full-court press if we’re going to convince LiveSoft to choose Stonecreek.”
“Right.” Maggie offered an awkward smile to Christian. Even Grammy’s quiet voice had a way of carrying. Now she really was blushing, embarrassed that her grandmother had so quickly and carelessly reduced an evening of holiday cheer to something almost mercenary in nature.
Yes, she wanted to win the competition—her town could use the influx of revenue and jobs. What town couldn’t?
But tonight was also about having fun and kicking off the holiday season. Maggie loved Christmas. Some of her fondest memories from childhood, before her mother’s death, were of how special the holidays had been. They’d cut down a real tree out in the woods every year, strung popcorn as garland and sung carols around the fire. Her mom had been a fantastic baker, and Maggie had been so proud to deliver cookies to neighbors and friends.
She’d tried her best to keep some of the family traditions alive once her mom died, but it hadn’t been easy. Then she’d gotten busy with her own life and it felt like her family had lost something precious. She’d moved back to her house two weeks ago when the tenants she’d rented it to had decided to return to Alabama a few months early. But she’d vowed to make this Christmas extra special for her younger siblings, Morgan and Ben, and their father. Along with her extra work on the town’s campaign for LiveSoft, she hoped to keep herself so busy she wouldn’t have any time to miss Griffin.
“I need to talk to Dora about the uneven icing on her cookies,” Grammy said, already looking past Maggie. “Mary Margaret, entertain Christian please.” Without waiting for an answer, Vivian walked away, much like Maggie imagined the queen would after giving an order to one of her faithful servants.
“I used to know how to juggle,” she told Christian with a shrug. “But I’m pretty rusty and fresh out of props.”
“Know any magic tricks?” he asked, raising a thick brow. “Or a good knock-knock joke?”
Maggie laughed and shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. But I do know the ladies over at the high school boosters’ booth make the best hot chocolate in town. Would you like to join me for a cup?”
“That sounds perfect.”
She glanced at Christian out of the corner of her eye as they got in line at the booth. He was handsome in a country-club sort of way, short blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He was always clean-shaven from what she’d seen and favored tailored shirts and pressed jeans with expensive-looking loafers.
She’d done her research on the CEO, born and raised in Boston to a former senator and his homemaker wife. Christian had attended private schools and then graduated from Harvard before moving to the West Coast to start LiveSoft. He’d been one of the company’s founders, although she remained fuzzy on his role in developing the app. However, he’d become the face of the brand and was thought to be responsible for much of the company’s meteoric growth.
In fact, social media and marketing were his specialties. The public campaign to help choose the company headquarters had been his idea.
“I hope you enjoyed tonight,” she said, inclining her head toward the towering Christmas tree in the center of the square. “And not just because of the competition, despite what Grammy would have you think.”
“It was great,” he said. “Very Norman Rockwell.”
“We’re all community spirit around here,” she said, then cringed. “I hate that everything I say to you sounds like I’m selling Stonecreek.”
“I don’t mind,” he insisted. “We were in Timmins last night and they tried to manufacture snow and ended up causing a minor flood in the elementary school gym.”
“Oh, my,” she breathed. They stopped at the back of the long line for hot chocolate. “At least we didn’t go that over the top.” She arched a brow. “Unless you like over-the-top and I’ll make sure to ramp things up.”
“Move aside, people!”
Maggie glanced sharply toward the covered booth in front of them as the crowd parted. Grady Wilson, who ran the only locally owned gas station in town, made his way forward, elbowing people out of the way as he did. Grady’s grandson was the quarterback for the high school football team, so he and his wife were very involved in the boosters.
Grady grinned at Maggie. “Our beloved mayor and potential beloved town savior shouldn’t have to wait for a hot drink.”
“It’s fine,” Christian called, waving a hand. “I don’t mind waiting my turn.”
“Town savior?” Maggie muttered, shaking her head. “I guess we’ve got over-the-top covered after all.”
Grady approached them with a wide smile, a steaming cup in each hand. “Nonsense,” he insisted. “I gave you both extra whipped cream too. Our Maggie here’s a big fan of whipped cream.”
Christian raised a brow in her direction, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
She felt color rise to her cheeks again. Grady certainly didn’t mean his comment to sound like a sexual innuendo, but somehow it came out that way.
As she thanked him for the hot chocolate, she noticed the assistant who’d filmed the lighting of the town tree earlier standing a few feet to the side, her phone held aloft like she was taking a video of this episode.
“You stick with Maggie,” Grady told Christian. “She’ll make sure you’re in good hands.”
Maggie darted another look at the camera then forced a bright smile. “Everyone in Stonecreek is excited about this opportunity,” she announced. “Aren’t we, folks?”
The people in line gave an enthusiastic round of applause—bless them—and Christian toasted Maggie’s cup of hot chocolate. “To new opportunities,” he said, making his voice loud enough to carry and earning more clapping.
As they turned to head back toward the center of the square, he leaned in closer. “And to extra whipped cream,” he whispered, his voice teasing.
“That did not mean what you might have thought it meant,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “Are we still on camera?”
He shrugged but kept his gaze forward. “Danielle was going to get some extra footage in case she needed filler, but I doubt it will be used and there’s no audio with it.”
“Okay, good. I’m not used to my every move being documented.”
“Aren’t you on social media?” he asked, brows pinching.
“Yes, but I’m not active. It doesn’t come naturally to me.”
“That’s why you need LiveSoft,” he told her. “The app can organize everything for you in a way that makes it less overwhelming and more streamlined.” He pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead. “Now I sound like a walking advertisement for my own company. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. You have a great product. I do plan to use the app, although I’m horrible with technology.”
“I could give you a tutorial,” he offered. “Maybe over dinner
