“Sure it does.” He grins. “So tell me what you need, and I’ll help.”
I stare at him. “You don’t have to?—”
“Tessa.” His voice is gentle but firm. “I want to help. Let me help.”
Something in my chest cracks open, just a little. The same way it did in the cabin when he wrapped his jacket around my shoulders. When he made me laugh even though I was terrified. When he looked at me like I was something precious instead of something to be managed.
“The sound system company,” I hear myself say. “They haven’t returned my calls about the rental for the auction.”
“Dave’s Audio? I know Dave. Helped him rebuild a carburetor last summer. I’ll swing by on my way back to the shop.” He pulls out his phone, types something.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” He doesn’t even try to hide the smugness. “Turns out when you’re the only mechanic in a twenty-mile radius and you don’t overcharge people, they tend to like you. Shocking, I know.”
“Must be nice to have the entire town owing you favors.”
“It’s a burden.” He puts a hand over his heart. “A heavy, heavy burden that I bear with grace and humility.”
“You don’t know what humility means.”
“I know it’s somewhere between ‘humidity’ and ‘hummus.’“ He winks. “What else?”
“The caterer needs to confirm the final menu by end of day or we’re stuck with whatever they decide.”
“Who’s doing the food?”
“Amy’s Catering. She’s great, but she’s been hard to pin down this week.” I rub my temple. “And Maeve’s donating desserts from The Honey Crumb, but I still need to confirm quantities with her.”
“I’ll swing by both. Amy owes me—I fixed her van last month. And Maeve loves me.” He adds another note to his phone. “What else?”
“The decorating committee was supposed to meet me Wednesday to discuss stage setup, but?—”
“But you were stuck in a cabin with three alphas having the best sex of your life?”
I choke on my muffin.
Ben grins, completely unrepentant. “What? Too soon?”
“I hate you,” I manage between coughs.
“No you don’t.” He’s still grinning, but there’s warmth underneath it. Something soft that makes my stomach flip. “Decorating committee. Who’s in charge?”
“Linda Patterson.”
“Mrs. Patterson? The one with the Volvo that’s held together by prayers and duct tape? I’m surprised that thing made it through the blizzard.”
“She said it stalled twice on Main Street.”
“Of course it did. That engine’s running on pure spite at this point.” He shakes his head. “I’ll call her. She loves me. Brings me cookies every time I keep that car from dying.”
“She brings you cookies?”
“Oatmeal raisin. Homemade.” He adds another note to his phone. “What else?”
“The volunteer schedule has three conflicts I haven’t resolved yet.”
“Email me the list. I’ll make some calls.”
