“We were swamped at the Snowda Shoppe yesterday,” Joe said. “The new flavors were a big hit.”
Eldon smiled. “Excellent news. I knew the Shoppe was in good hands.”
“Yes,” Tate said. “I never doubted you for a minute, Joe.”
Joe bumped his leg against Uriel’s as the others began talking about the final day of the craft fair. The big lug had given him a chance to shine. Joe would have to find a way to repay him.
“I’d like to know who was behind this morning’s little prank,” Aaron said.
Joe liked Aaron. He was a reporter and Nyall’s boyfriend. They’d both been kind to Joe since he arrived in town.
Next to him, Uriel’s leg tightened. Joe glanced at him, but nothing seemed to be wrong. Maybe he was uncomfortable with Joe pressing their legs together? That didn’t make sense, though, because Uriel’s hand was still on Joe’s knee. He’d have moved it if he didn’t want them touching, right?
“I’ve suggested to Eldon that we need to install security cameras around the square,” Tate said.
The silence that followed his statement stretched to the point that Joe’s leg started bouncing again. Joe opened his mouth, ready to agree with Tate’s statement, but Uriel squeezed his knee.
What was so bad about having security cameras?
Apparently, everyone hated the idea because Jack Frost seemed to have grabbed the balls of everyone at the table—and not in a good way. In a frostbite to the balls kinda way, which, now that Joe thought about it, was there a good way to have your balls frozen? No, no there was not.
“How about those craft vendors? So much talent, am I right?” Joe’s voice might have squeaked a bit as if his balls were tight in Jack Frost’s grip.
Alas, his balls hadn’t been gripped in a long time. And was it possible for him to stop thinking about balls while he sat at a table with his peers? Well, not exactly peers. They all owned their businesses, and he was a manager. But still, he had dreams, and they counted.
And even though he sometimes doubted it, Uriel believed in him, which made it seem like one day he could sit at this table, owning a business in Mistletoe Falls. Wouldn’t that be incredible?
Uriel elbowed him in the ribs. “I’m out of bacon.”
Joe slow panned to look at him. “Why, yes, it appears that you are.”
Uriel scowled. “You’re closer.”
“You have longer arms.”
“You’re…dammit. It’s rude to reach across someone at the table.”
Joe smirked. “Fine, you win with that one. But don’t think you can boss me around, mister. You’re not the boss of me.”
“That’s right,” Uriel teased, a rare glint coming into his eyes. “Eldon is.”
Joe froze with the platter of bacon in his hand. “Oh no you didn’t.”
Uriel laughed.
Joe plopped the platter down, snatched a piece of bacon, and shoved it into his mouth. “Mmm. Tasty bacon,” Joe mumbled as half the bacon dangled from his lips.
Uriel, the weirdo, tore off the dangling bacon and put it in his mouth.
“Gross, Uriel. You don’t know where my mouth has been. Do you know how many germs I collect on a daily basis?”
From the sudden silence around the table, Joe realized his volume may have gotten a wee bit louder than he intended.
“That sounded much more graphic than I intended, didn’t it?”
“It sure did,” Linus said, his hearty laugh echoing through the dining room. “So tell us, Joe, just whereisyour mouth on a daily basis? Curious minds want to know.”
Joe kicked Uriel under the table. “Yourpresentsis requested to get me out of this.”
