Old habit.
You have this, I tell myself.You know your worth.
Not talking about my bank account either.
Talking about my basic worth as a human being.
I force myself to make direct eye contact with Gail Kingston. Charles is right behind her. Both of them are in business casual travel clothes that would go well with the getup Laney had on when she arrived the other day.
Charles is slower on the uptake, but when he spots me, his lip curls too.
Like I’m theriffraff.
I nod to both of them and turn to continue on my way.
“Dear god, he even has to get a part-time job on vacation,” she mutters to him.
He grunts.
Fuck this. I have a wedding to save.
First place I’m heading? Back to the restaurant I just left.
I have a strong suspicion I know why I’m familiar to the server. And I know I can charm the hell out of anyone, and I need someone who can cook a rehearsal dinner.
That’s all that matters.
“Oh, lookie, the Kingstons are here,” Uncle Owen says as he enters the lobby too. He chuckles. “Came looking for towels, and instead I get Snaggletooth Creek royalty. Good to see you. Em’s gonna be so glad you’re here. Won’t she, Theo?”
“Sure.” I step out from behind the desk, jangling the keys in my pocket and telling myself the Kingstons’ opinion of me doesn’t matter.
Except it does.
Because—
“Theo’s been hanging out with Delaney every day,” Uncle Owen continues. “Nice to see all the young ’uns getting along, isn’t it?”
I turn at that.
Can’t help it.
Want to know if it’s my imagination or if they’re still horrified.
Still horrified.
That’s definitely horrified in the way Gail’s face has twisted while sheactually clutches her necklaceand Charles’s spine snaps straight and his eyes turn into laser beams that threaten to flay me alive if I’ve so much as thought about his daughter’sno-no box.
Walk away, Theo. They don’t matter.
Except they do.
They’re Laney’s parents.
I like Laney.
I like Laneya lot.
I want to wake up with her in my bed, in my own damn house, and help her make pancakes. I want to experiment with recreating that bacon. I want to take her sledding down Death Hill—over-named, by the way—and listen to her shriek and scream and laugh when we get to the bottom. I want to kiss her while it’s snowing. I want to take her on a hot-air balloon ride.
