It was sunny and cold. He looked up at the sky. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, only shades of blue for miles. It was a perfect North Carolina day. The kind of day they needed for the mistletoe shoot.

Evan pulled into the field that had been turned into a parking lot for the event. He shifted his truck into park. His boots crunched on the hard ground as he walked toward the crowd gathered near the barn doors.

The old tobacco barn was decorated with fresh pine wreaths and wide swags of garland. The shoot had been held here for as long as he could remember. It was on the McKinley’s property and no one had thought of changing the location. At least it hadn’t come up in any of his town hall meetings over the past year. Harpers Point was not lacking in mistletoe. Any of the founding families could have hosted the shoot, but the town was rooted in tradition and so the McKinley plot was always where it was held.

On the other side of the barn was half an open field bordered by oak trees that had grown for hundreds of years. Their leaves were bare, but at the tops they were dotted with green clumps of mistletoe.

“Mayor Jacobs.” They nodded.

“Good day for the shoot.” He surveyed the residents. In years past they had been plagued by rain or rough winds. A few times the entire event had to be postponed. But not today. The conditions were perfect.

Lottie Beasley scampered toward him. Her cheeks were rosy and her bright red curls bounced around her ears. “The baskets and barrels are ready, Mayor. I have two trucks ready to go. I have huge orders this year. The biggest one is going to Raleigh.”

“That’s great. We’ll get it loaded up for you, Lottie.” Evan tapped her shoulder as he walked toward the barn.

As the owner of the only florist shop in town, Lottie received half of the mistletoe. In exchange, she donated arrangements to the senior center for Christmas. The rest of the mistletoe was sold in the town square to tourists and at the flotilla. The profits went into a fund for next year’s Christmas celebrations. A small portion was allocated to the first responders. It had taken hours of council meetings, but Evan had finally convinced the budget manager that they could provide better services for their residents by capitalizing on the most profitable time of the year.

The red doors were propped open with Christmas trees. He passed between them, entering the building. It had been transformed into a holiday wonderland. The McKinley’s occasionally rented the space out for weddings or reunions, but it was vacant most of the year. Nothing compared to what they did for the mistletoe shoot.

As soon as he walked inside his jaw clenched. What was Cami doing here?

“Evan, Evan! Come over here,” Jamie Braxton waved to him. He hadn’t turned quickly enough to avoid eye contact.

He saw Cami nudge Jamie in the elbow.

“Hi.” He forced a grin.

“Hi.” Cami’s eyes glittered. Why did they have to do that? Why did she have to be everywhere he turned?

“Look.” Jamie pointed. “Cami brought snickerdoodle for the mistletoe shoot.” There was a large grapevine basket loaded with wrapped cookies. Each one was tied with a bow.

“I’m sure everyone will enjoy them.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I need to line up,” he explained. “The shoot is about to start.” He saw Jamie pout. “Thanks for coming out today.”

He sauntered off, wishing the feeling under his ribs would go away. It needled him every time she was around. What was worse, was that she wasn’t leaving. Ever since the night in The Sweet Treat, it had only intensified. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her bed. Her body.

“There he is.” Joseph Walters pulled on his checked flannel vest. “Waiting on you, Mayor.”

The regular mistletoe hunters were drinking coffee in a circle, huddled together as if they would stay warmer that way.

“Had to make the rounds,” he explained. The circle opened for him.

“Are you ready for me to ring the bells?” Joseph asked.

The ringing of the bells signaled the opening round of the hunt.

“Let’s get started,” Evan answered.

Hamp Stanton leaned over. “I saw who was in the barn.”

Evan shook him off. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Hamp had been Evan’s best friend since they were five and old enough to run wild between each other’s yards. Hamp was now the volunteer chief at the fire department, and an attorney Monday through Friday.

“Well, she’s on her way over.”

Evan refused to turn around. Instead, he stepped forward as Frank Miller handed each of the hunters a small 20-gauge shotgun.

“Gentleman,” Frank announced in a booming voice. “You have all participated in the mistletoe harvest before, but just a reminder for each of you. Make sure your neighbor knows which tree is your target. We don’t want crossfire. Keep twenty yards between you. And no one steps past the harvest line until the last shot is fired. I’ll announce when it’s time to move to the next section of trees and the gatherers will round up this batch. Any questions?”

The men shook their heads. They had been doing this since they were old enough to hold a shotgun. The crowd was gathered at their backs to watch the mistletoe fall to the ground in giant clumps. There was usually applause after the first shots, and then once the hunters moved along the tree line, the audience started to disperse.

It was hard for Evan to ignore that Cami was behind him, watching. He could lie to himself and pretend she wasn’t focused on his aim. But he could feel her gaze on his neck. For some reason, he wanted to make sure he hit the jackpot of mistletoe. He grumbled to himself, irritated he cared about impressing her.

“All right.” Frank placed ear protection over his head. “Ready. Aim. Mistletoe.” The red white and green flag was tossed to the ground and the line of hunters pointed toward the highest boughs in the sky.

This year’s harvest was going to set records.

The green leaves fell in clumps. Some of the white berries bounced off the sticks, but that was bound to happen. They continued to fire until the group of trees was harvested.

Frank turned to the crowd, waiting for the applause. The guns were lowered and the harvesters ran toward the mistletoe, carrying baskets on their backs.

“Looks like the mayor showed us up.” Joseph laughed. “Look at that mountain of mistletoe he shot down.”

Hamp added, “Well, we are up against a sharp shooter. He has perfect aim.”

Evan looked at his friend. “Yeah, don’t forget it.”

Lottie Beasley whistled. “Good work, boys.”

“All right, gentlemen, let’s move.” Frank motioned for them to follow him to the next section of the field. The bystanders walked back to the barn.

Evan huffed. At least for the next round, he could relax without Cami’s eyes on him.