“And because,” I continued, shoving open the gate, “I’m trying to avoid embarrassing myself.”
He stepped closer. “Have you?”
I turned.
He was right there.
Close enough that I could feel his breath in the cold air and near enough to see the flecks of gold in his eyes.
My heart punched the inside of my rib cage.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I did…earlier in the kitchen. And then again in the coffee shop. And probably right now. It’s something I excel at.”
He studied me quietly, like he was trying to decide if stepping closer would startle me or pull me in.
It was not fair that he had that kind of presence.
Not fair at all.
“I think,” he said softly, “you worry too much about how you come across.”
“Of course I do,” I said, flustered. “I am a professional disaster, and my family apparently agrees with that assessment since they hired me backup.”
“You’re not a disaster.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Barcode let out a loud snort behind us.
We both startled, and the spell broke.
I pushed the zebra gently toward the correct enclosure, trying to gather the tatters of my dignity. “Okay, Barcode, enough sabotage for today.”
Carson made a quiet sound that suspiciously resembled a cough, hiding a laugh.
I didn't look at him.
I couldn’t.
Instead, I focused on latching the gate, smoothing my ponytail, and reminding myself that less Carson was the goal. Less Carson meant less chaos. Less tongue-tied. Less… everything.
Except he stepped beside me again, hands tucked into his jacket, expression unreadable.
“When do you want to meet about the upcoming trips?” he asked.
“Soon,” I said. “First trip launches whether the snow agrees or not.”
He nodded. “I saw the board. We are paired together for the first several trips.”
“Yep,” I said, trying and failing to sound casual. “In the woods. Alone. With guests. Together. Alone-together. Probably too many together. We should split up sooner.”
He lifted an eyebrow.
I whimpered internally.
“We will schedule something,” I squeaked. “Tomorrow. Or later. Or never. No. Not never. Obviously, we have to meet. So… tomorrow.”
