“No problem.” William picked up their tangled pile. Watching him lift it made Marissa realize they had made more progress than she thought. A solid ball remained, but at least half of the strands had been separated.
“What are you going to do? Take it with us?”
“No, I’m going to get someone to watch it for us.” He proceeded to drag the lights over to the ski jump float. A quick conversation ensued. Marissa noticed she wasn’t the only one slightly dazzled by his charm. The two young women he approached appeared eager to acquiesce to his every wish. She felt a brief pang of envy, watching as he shot them his signature grin before returning to her.
Knock it off. He thinks you’re a project.
“We’ve got eyes on the lights. Let’s go eat.” William offered her his arm.
She wanted to resist, but her arm reached out for his like it was operating independently.
“What sounds good?” William’s touch sent shivers up her spine. “The Peruvian cart is amazing. Have you had their Bomba Tacos?”
Marissa shook her head, mainly because she didn’t trust herself to speak. Being this close to William made everything else fuzzy. He was in focus while the floats and volunteers and activity around them had gone blurry.
“If you’re not into tacos, the Smokin’ Heat truck has a bomb pulled pork sandwich. I have a standing arrangement with mystudents: If they bring me one for lunch, they get ten bonus points on any future assignments.”
“For real?” Marissa could feel his leg brush against her. She sucked in a breath and forced herself to think about food, not images of William yanking her closer to his body.
“No.” William wrinkled his brow. “I wouldn’t take bribes. I’ve wanted to talk to the food truck owner about popping by school on the last day before winter break and treating my students to lunch.”
“Could you do that?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
Because lunch for all his classes would probably cost as much as a month’s rent, Marissa thought.
“So, what sounds good?” he asked again.
“It has to be the pulled pork,” she replied, wondering again what it must be like not to worry about money every waking minute.
There was a short line at the BBQ cart. The dining area of the fairgrounds housed semi-permanent food cart pods and picnic tables.
“Do you want to find us a seat, and I’ll order?” William suggested.
“Uh, okay.” Marissa reached into her bag, hoping she had enough cash to cover it.
“No, don’t worry about it. It’s on me.”
“You don’t need to pay,” she protested. This was becoming a habit, and it was one she didn’t like. She didn’t need his charity.
“It’s cool.” William held up a hand to stop her. “My guy will give me a deal, and I want to talk to him about coming to school, anyway.”
Marissa protested, but he cut her off.
“Just let me do this, okay?”
“Okay.” She was out of her league here. She wanted to believe that William was a nice guy. She almost wondered if he felt a hint of something between them, too, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Parker was right. She was nothing more than one of his “feel-good” projects. It came with being a Graff. He was used to his family making broad, sweeping gestures for the community. She had no interest in being a charity case.
She found a table, pulled out her phone, and spotted a missed text from Olivia.
You at the float barn? We’re on our way. Maybe see you there. How’s it going with Mr. Graff?
Yes.
Marissa didn’t want to get overtaken by her young cousin, but she was also torn. She was rooting for Olivia, too.
Can’t get a read on this dude.
