Page 16 of A Crawford Family Christmas

“Johnny!” I hiss, swatting his chest, but he just grins wider.

When the noise dies down, he hands the mic to Quinn. “Alright, folks. We’ll be back with more music after a hot cocoa break. Try the kettle corn—tell ’em Harper sent you. She’s the boss.”

“Finally,” I mutter.

As we walk offstage, he leans down and murmurs, “You sounded amazing.”

“You’re trouble.”

“Yeah,” he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, “but I’m your trouble.”

And as the fire crackles and the crowd starts singing again, I can’t help smiling. Because somehow, in this crazy, crowded family, that’s exactly what Christmas feels like—joy and music and just enough mischief to make it magic.

A few hours later, and it’s down to just us Crawfords and Burtons doing clean up. The front gates are closed, and the noise level has dropped so that I can actually hear my thoughts. And, well, at the moment they’re not good. For the last twenty minutes, I’ve been stuck—literally—to a tree.

I am one hundred percent sure I am going to die wrapped in Christmas lights. Or at least pull all my hair out trying to get myself free. I’ve tried to handle this mess on my own, but I’ve only managed to make it worse. So I texted my husband to come find me because I need help.

I see him turn down the row of trees where I’m stuck.

“Johnny,” I hiss, frozen in place between two perfectly trimmed pines.

He turns and sees me. I can see the exact moment that the reality of my situation registers in his brain.

“Do not laugh,” I warn.

There’s a beat of silence.

Then—

“Oh, Harpsichord,” Johnny says, voice shaking. “I’m trying. I promise I am.”

I close my eyes. “I swear to God, if you take a picture⁠—”

“Already did.”

“JOHNNY.”

He steps closer, still grinning like a menace, and his hands lifted in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m done. Just—hold still.”

“That’s literally all I can do,” I mutter.

“How did you even do this?” he asks. His hands are gently pulling on the strands of my hair. “It’s like someone tied your hair around the light strands.”

“I don’t know how it happened. Someone had put a cocoa cup in this tree. I leaned in to get it out and managed to get tangled. Then, when I tried to undo it all, I just made it all worse. Can you free me without having to cut a chunk of my hair out?”

Johnny squints at the situation like he’s assessing a crime scene. “You know, I’ve seen some things tonight. Goats in the cider tent. Quinn yelling at a generator. But this?” He shakes his head. “This might be the highlight.”

“Shut up or I’ll call someone else to help me,” I say.

“Who? If you call my sister, this will end up in the Saddle Peek.”

“Callie. She’s the nice one in the family. Everyone else is crazy.”

“That tracks,” he says. “Alright, sweetheart. Don’t panic.” His voice drops, teasing but gentle. “I’ve rescued calves from barbed wire. This is basically the same thing.”

“Except for the fact that I am not livestock.”

“I just meant the situation.”