Page 19 of A Crawford Family Christmas

caleb & madison

Madison

By the time the bonfire starts winding down, my feet hurt, my hair smells like sugar and smoke, and the “Hot Cocoa & Cookie Booth” sign is hanging at a slightly defeated angle.

In other words: success.

“Ma’am,” a familiar voice drawls from behind me. “I’m gonna have to issue you a citation.”

I don’t even have to turn around. “For what, Sheriff Burton?”

“For distracting me by looking good enough to eat.”

I laugh, wiping flour from my hands before spinning to face him. My husband is staring straight at my ass. He looks unfairly good in uniform—badge gleaming under the string lights, Stetson tilted low, smile just shy of sinful. “Don’t you have actual criminals to harass?”

He steps closer, lowering his voice. “You telling me cookie theft isn’t a serious offense?”

“Are you stealing my cookies?”

He leans in, runs his nose up my throat.

I lean into him because when it comes to this man, I am helpless.

“Trouble, I’m the only one allowed to touch your cookies.” He swipes one from the counter, bites it, and hums appreciatively. “Oatmeal chocolate chip with a hint of cinnamon. You trying to seduce the whole damn town?”

“Just one lawman.”

His eyes darken. “Mission accomplished.”

Before I can sass back, a teenager runs past, laughing and yelling, “Sheriff! Someone put a Santa hat on your patrol truck!”

Caleb sighs. “Johnny.”

“Probably,” I say. “But you can’t arrest him. He’s family.”

“I could make an exception.”

“You won’t.”

He leans in, stealing another cookie and a kiss that tastes like sugar and mischief. “You know me too well.”

“I should. I married you.”

“Best decision you ever made.”

A hush falls over the crowd then—the kind that ripples outward when something big is about to happen. Quinn steps up to the microphone, announcing the final event of the night: the lighting of the farm’s biggest tree.

Caleb and I slip out from behind the booth, finding a spot at the edge of the crowd. The whole place glows—bonfire crackling, music fading, kids bundled in hats too big for their heads. The tree towers over it all, wrapped in miles of lights.

When it flickers to life, gold and white bursting across the branches, the crowd gasps.

“Wow,” I breathe.

Caleb slides his arm around my waist. “Not bad.”

I elbow him lightly. “Understatement of the year.”

He presses a kiss to my temple. “You did good, Trouble. This whole thing. You and the others.”