Beside her on the table, her phone chimes. Annabelle glances at it, groaning as she picks it up. “And just when I thought I could relax ...”
“What now?” I ask, then sip my tea.
She stares at the screen, thumb scrolling through a string of notifications. “My assistant, Blake, texted. Apparently, one of the guys is complaining about having to stack firewood. Says it’s messing with his back.”
I snort. “Do they realize he’s been hired to lumberjack? In a festival? Stacking firewood and looking good while doing it is the job. For tourists.”
“I get that. And you get that. But apparently, he’s another pretty face with no work ethic.” She sighs loudly, typing out a response. “He’s decided he’s more of a ‘supervisory’ type and less of the wood-chopping type.”
These guys are unbelievable! “How the hell did you end up with a crew of diva lumberjacks?”
“Because. I havetheshittiest luck.” She takes a crunchy bite of toast. When crumbs scatter on the table and down the front of her sweater, she doesn’t seem to care. “I swear to God, I’m never volunteering to do this again.”
“How many times have I heard you say that? Last year you said it. The year before that you said it.” I wave my hand. “You love this chaos, don’t lie. You’d go crazy without a million things to do.”
Or people to yell at.
My bestie is bossy.
She narrows her eyes but doesn’t argue. Instead, she points her toast at me like it’s a weapon. “Remind me the next time someone’s trying to sucker me into organizing something, okay? Saying no will be my New Year’s resolution.”
“Then you only have to wait four more months.” I laugh. “I’ll make sure to remind you when you’re coordinating Christmas carolers at the pavilion or trying to wrangle toddlers for the May Day celebration.”
She glares at me. “I don’t like you very much right now.”
“Because I’m right?” I reply.
“Yes. I do not need the hard truth at the moment, okay?” Annabelle reaches for her coffee at the same time her phone dings yet again, forever blowing up.
“Hmm?” I ask, wanting to know all the drama.
She sets her cup down with a thud and glances at me. “It’s the new dude, Harris. And praise be, he’s asking when he needs to show up.”
I blink back my surprise. “Really? That’s great!”
“Oh, it gets better,” she adds, holding up the phone. “He’s also asking for your phone number.”
My phone number?
My jaw drops, and I burst out laughing. “You have got to bekidding.”
“Nope.” She shakes her head, her grin widening. “Apparently, he thinks the two of you are best friends now and says it would be helpful to have Lucy’s number in case of any ‘lumberjacky’ emergencies.” Annabelle looks at me and tilts her head. “What’s a lumberjacky emergency.”
I laugh some more. “Beats me.”
“Sooo ... should I give him your number?”
“Absolutely not,” I say quickly, sitting up straighter. “If he wanted my number, he should have asked when he had the chance.”
Annabelle smirks, leaning back in her chair as she twirls her phone in her hand. “Ooh, harsh. Playing hard to get, are we?”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not playing hard to get. It’s basic manners. If he wanted my number, he should’ve asked me directly. Not tried to weasel it out of my best friend.”
“Fair,” she says, glancing back at her phone. “I have to admit, though, I’m tempted to give it to him. See what he says.”
“Don’t you dare,” I warn. “The last thing I need is some cocky out-of-towner blowing up my phone with fake emergencies.”
“Are you done with dating apps and looking for the love of your life? These guys are all from out of town—we are running out of men to date. Eligible guys don’t pass through town this often—all the good ones are taken.”
