“It’ll be disastrous.”
“But fun. Could add some excitement.”
I shake my head. “I think we cause enough of that.”
Her gaze flicks to mine. If I’m not mistaken, I see the Milky Way in her eyes. Giving my head a shake, I backpedal. “Think of them like that uncle that everyone has in their family, but everyone avoids because they’ll talk incessantly about Bigfoot or some old scandal or conspiracy. However, in this case, there are two of those uncles.”
She taps her pen against her lips and then assigns them different tables. We keep working … together.
She suggests live music. I counter with a playlist. We compromise on a local pianist for the cocktail hour and a playlist for dancing.
She wants fancy centerpieces. I show her the fire code restrictions. She pivots to simpler designs that still look elegant.
I notice things I shouldn’t notice. The pearl earrings she’s wearing. The way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’sthinking. Her intoxicating perfume and what it would be like to nuzzle into her neck and inhale.
She points to a list. “Any preferences on caterers?”
Clearing my throat, I scan it. “The Skillet and Skewer is reliable. We use them for station events.”
“Barbecue can be messy for something like this. I’d offer Sorrentino’s, my family’s restaurant, but it’s too far away.”
I look up. “Your family’s restaurant?”
She shifts slightly. “They do catering. And—” She stops.
“And what?”
“And they need the business, but they really are good and I’m not just saying that because I’m biased.” She tries to hide the desperation in her voice.
“Sorrentino’s is in Reno, right? I didn’t make the connection until now.”
“Yeah. Just off the main strip.” She fidgets with her pen. “They do authentic Italian. My dad’s side is from Sicily. Mom’s side is from here—Grandma’s family has been in Huckleberry Hill forever.”
“That’s the grandmother whose house you’re fixing up.”
“How did you know that?”
Because I pay attention to things about Winnie that I shouldn’t. “Small town.”
“Right. Back to the drawing board.”
My gaze lingers on her and I wonder if she’s trying to hide something—she’s always working late. Lives with her grandmother instead of having her own place. Is she helping them financially?
12
PATTON
Winnieand I work for another hour on Fireman’s Ball details. The antagonism has shifted from fifth gear into something else. Banter, maybe. Or partnership.
I scoff at the notion. Aside from my firefighting crew, I’m a solo operator.
At one point, Austin sticks his head in. “You two still alive?”
“Barely,” Winnie says. “Patton is trying to convince me that balloon arches are frivolous.”
“They are frivolous,” I say with a chuckle.
“They’re festive!”
