“Come on,” she murmured. “We’re needed.”
I let myself be moved, relief hitting me like warmth.
Collin called after us. “I was only offering assistance.”
Lucy raised her coffee in his direction without turning. “We appreciate your… spirit, however we have everything under control.”
Kitty followed us a few steps, garland still wrapped around her arm like she was prepared to use it as a lasso if necessary. She leaned in close and whispered, “Extraction complete.”
I bit down on a laugh.
Meri led me to the far side of the truck, where Jane was already pretending to measure something with an intensity that would have been admirable if it wasn’t entirely fabricated.
Jane didn’t look up as she spoke. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I whispered back.
Kitty appeared beside us, hands on hips. “We are so good at this.”
Lucy joined us as well, her expression satisfied. “The key is speed. He’s too confident to realize he’s been redirected. Collin is going into the house to see about a radiator I told him was acting up.”
Jane exhaled slowly. “I hate that it’s necessary.”
“It’s necessary because he doesn’t understand boundaries,” Meri said simply.
I stared at the garland in Jane’s hands. “Thank you.”
Kitty waved it off. “We’re not letting him corner you. Not today.”
“Not ever,” Meri added, then picked up a zip tie and went back to securing greenery with quiet efficiency.
Across the lot, Collin lingered, watching us with a thoughtful expression that made my stomach dip again. He looked like someone considering an equation before he finally turned and went inside the inn.
Lucy tracked him with her eyes until he was inside. “He’s going to try again.”
“I know,” I said.
Jane’s hand brushed my arm briefly. “We’ll be ready.”
Kitty grinned. “We’re basically a tactical unit.”
Meri didn’t look up. “Don’t get too complacent. He’ll adapt.”
Kitty’s grin faltered. “That’s a terrifying sentence.”
“It’s true,” Meri said.
I looked at the truck and forced my focus back to the task in front of me. We had a float to finish. We had a parade tomorrow. We had a business to run and a town watching us, not with malice, but with curiosity and expectation.
And I had promised myself I wasn’t going to quit.
We worked for another hour, the decorations taking shape in earnest now. The greenery lined the edges of the truck bed, secured tightly enough that it would take a determined wind to dislodge it. The battery lights were woven through carefully, their cords hidden, their switches accessible. Jane insisted on symmetry, but Kitty kept sneaking in small flourishes that made it feel warmer, less polished and more human.
I stepped back again, hands on my hips, surveying the work.
It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t the elaborate vision I had first imagined when I had told the internet I needed a vehicle. It didn’t look like a magazine spread.
It looked like us.
