“If it stays that way, we could go then.”
“Okay.” Driving into town with her would be fun. Looking at Santa hats, which would probably be smack dab in the middle of a bunch of holiday decorations, not so much.
She peered at him. “Is that a problem? You look a little stressed.”
He launched into the first silly excuse he could find. “Me and the boys just realized it’s almost showtime and we have stage fright.”
“Aww.” She gave him a warm smile. “My family will go crazy over those little guys. You know they will.”
“I didn’t know it for sure. That’s why I invited you for a preview. I figured if you liked these critters, there was a good chance the rest of the family would.”
“Really? You had doubts about that?”
“Sure. I’ve only lived here for six months.”
“I keep forgetting that. It feels longer to me. You fit in so well. You and Jordan both do. I’ll bet she’s seen this already.”
“No, ma’am.”
“No? But you two are so close!”
“That’s the point. She’s gonna rave about anything I’ve made. I could throw something together with a few sticks and baling wire and she’d call it a masterpiece. I needed an unbiased opinion.”
She met his gaze. “Then you should have asked Claudie. You had to know I’m not unbiased.”
He flushed. “Okay, I wanted to impress you.”
“Mission accomplished. But since I’m not unbiased, how can you trust what I?—”
“Because you’re not my sister.”
“Thank goodness for that!”
“Stay with me. She hasn’t lived here long enough to know for sure what would appeal to your family. You have. Also, if you thought they wouldn’t like the Beaver Bunch for some reason you’d tell me. You’d want to save me from being embarrassed.”
“I would. But I promise they’ll be nuts about your creation. Blown away. I can’t wait for Christmas Day when they get to see it.”
“The weather could change.” He could always hope.
“If it does would you be okay with bringing everyone up here?”
Whoops. Weather wouldn’t save him, after all. “Sure.”
“Good, because it might come to that if a storm?—”
His phone rang. Happy to interrupt their troubling conversation, he excused himself and went to grab it from the kitchen counter. “It’s your mom.”
“Don’t tell her I’m—no, wait, you need to tell her I’m here. Just don’t say?—”
“You think I would?”
“No, no—just answer it! The longer it rings?—”
“Right.” He tapped the speaker mode so Mila could hear the conversation. “Hi, Raquel.”
“I’m so sorry to interrupt your evening, amigo, but that pipe under the sink you warned me about chose to start leaking ten minutes ago. I’ve turned off the main valve but Greta and I are in the middle of a complicated baking session. Could you?—”
“I’ll be right there. I picked up a PVC pipe a couple months ago knowing I’d eventually need it.”
