Lights Out, Love In

Chapter 3: “Snowballs and Secrets".

The next morning, Claire wakes to the sound of muffled voices drifting up from the inn’s lobby. She groans, throwing an arm over her eyes, and mutters, “Can’t they argue a little quieter?”

Downstairs, Emily is already in full-blown holiday general mode, directing guests, juggling phone calls, and handing Abby a bowl of cereal all at once. Claire watches from the stairwell, half-amused, half-wary.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Emily calls without looking up.

Claire descends the stairs, shoving her hands into her hoodie pockets. “Morning. You look... frazzled.”

Emily snorts. “Thanks, Captain Obvious. You ready for today?”

“Do I have a choice?” Claire mutters, snagging a cup of coffee from the counter.

Before Emily can reply, the door to the inn swings open, letting in a gust of icy wind—and Adrian. He strides in, looking completely unfazed by the cold, his scarf draped casually over his broad shoulders.

“Someone forgot to clear the path outside,” he announces, stomping snow from his boots.

Emily glares at him. “That’s because someone quit.”

Adrian smirks. “Still holding onto that, huh?”

“Until you fix it, yeah,” Emily snaps.

Claire sips her coffee, eyeing the exchange with mild interest. “So, you’re just dropping by to complain about snow?”

Adrian turns his gaze to her, his grin widening. “Nope. I’m here to help.”

Emily looks skeptical. “You’re volunteering?”

“I’m offering my... guidance,” Adrian replies. His gaze flickers to Claire. “You’re in charge now, right? Figured you’d need it.”

Claire nearly spits out her coffee. “I’m doing fine, thanks.”

“Sure you are,” Adrian says, leaning against the counter. “How’s the parade route?”

“It’s handled,” Claire lies.

“Really? Because the last I heard, half the floats don’t have drivers, and the other half are missing decorations.”

Emily snickers, but Claire ignores her. She sets her coffee down and crosses her arms. “And what, you’re here to save the day?”

Adrian shrugs. “Not my job anymore. But if you’re desperate...”

“Thanks, but I’ve got it covered,” Claire snaps.

Adrian chuckles, pushing off the counter. “Alright, then. Have fun.”

He turns and walks toward the door, but not before tossing over his shoulder, “Don’t forget to clear the path. Wouldn’t want anyone slipping on your watch .”

Claire spends the next few hours tackling her ever growing to-do list, which includes organizing volunteers for clearing snow along the parade route. By mid-afternoon, she’s standing in the town square with a shovel in hand, directing a group of helpers.

“Abby, sweetheart, stop piling snow *on* the sidewalk,” Claire says, watching as her niece gleefully adds to the already cleared path.

Abby grins. “But it’s more fun this way!”

Claire shakes her head, laughing despite herself. She adjusts her scarf and kneels to scoop up a pile of snow when something cold and wet smacks her in the back.

She freezes, her mind racing. Slowly, she turns, her eyes narrowing as she scans the square.

Adrian stands a few feet away, holding a snowball and wearing an infuriatingly innocent expression.

“Did you just throw that at me?” Claire asks, brushing snow off her coat.

Adrian tilts his head. “Me? No. Must’ve been one of the kids.”

“Really.” Claire raises an eyebrow. “Because it looks like you’ve got a snowball in your hand right now.”

Adrian glances down at the snowball, then back at her. “This? Just holding it for... scientific purposes.”

Before Claire can respond, another snowball sails through the air and grazes her shoulder. She spins around to see Abby giggling behind a mound of snow.

“Traitor!” Claire exclaims, grabbing a handful of snow.

And just like that, chaos erupts. Volunteers abandon their shovels, diving behind benches and bushes as snowballs fly through the air. Abby teams up with a group of kids, while Claire finds herself in a one-on-one battle with Adrian.

“You call that a throw?” Adrian taunts, dodging her latest attempt.

“Let’s see you do better,” Claire retorts, ducking behind a tree.

Adrian grins and hurls a snowball that hits the edge of her cover, sending a spray of snow over her head.

“Alright, you asked for it,” Claire mutters. She packs a particularly dense snowball and steps out from behind the tree, her eyes locked on her target.

Adrian’s smirk falters as she launches the snowball. It hits him square in the chest, sending him stumbling back a step.

“Nice shot,” he admits, brushing snow off his coat. “Lucky, though.”

“Not luck,” Claire replies, smirking. “Skill.”

Adrian starts to respond, but Sophie’s voice cuts through the laughter. “Y’all better call a truce before someone loses an eye!”

Claire glances around, suddenly realizing that half the town has gathered to watch the impromptu snowball fight. Sophie, of course, is filming the whole thing.

“Great,” Claire mutters, dropping her snowball.

Adrian raises his hands in mock surrender. “Truce?”

Claire rolls her eyes but nods. “Fine. Truce.”

Later that evening, Claire sits in the inn’s dining room, flipping through the photos she took earlier. She pauses on a candid shot of Adrian, his smile wide as he crouches next to Abby’s snow fort.

She doesn’t want to admit it, but there’s something about his expression—genuine, unguardedthat catches her off guard.

“You’re staring awfully hard at that one,” Sophie says, sliding into the seat across from her.

Claire jumps, quickly closing her laptop. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Uh-huh,” Sophie says, resting her chin in her hand. “You know, Adrian’s not as bad as you think.”

Claire snorts. “You’ve been hanging out with him too much. He’s rubbing off on you.”

“Maybe,” Sophie replies, grinning. “But I’m serious. He’s a good guy. And he’s done a lot for this town.”

Claire frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sophie shrugs, her tone turning coy. “Just that there’s more to him than meets the eye. You’ll see.”

Claire spends the rest of the night trying to focus on editing her photos, but Sophie’s words stick with her. She doesn’t know much about Adrian other than the fact that he’s infuriating but now she can’t shake the feeling that he’s hiding something.

The next day, Claire is back in the square, overseeing more festival preparations. She’s trying to wrangle volunteers when Adrian approaches, his hands stuffed in his coat pockets.

“Hey,” he says, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

“What now?” Claire asks, still annoyed from the snowball fight.

“I want to talk. Away from all this,” Adrian says, gesturing to the bustling square.

Claire narrows her eyes. “Why?”

“Because if you’re going to fix this festival, you need to know what you’re up against,” Adrian replies. “Meet me at the ice rink tonight. After the crowds leave.”

Claire hesitates, eyeing him suspiciously. “Why should I?”

Adrian shrugs. “You don’t have to. But if you’re curious about what’s really going on in this town, you’ll be there.”