Wynn eyed their almost-finished booth with envy as she waved to Judd to back up a little more. She had twelve hours until inspection, and if she wasn’t set up, she’d have to pay a fine. It wasn’t much of a punishment, just twenty bucks. Still, she didn’t want to be known as the one who wasn’t ready on time; the very idea had her blood pressure climbing.
She made a fist in the air, and the brake lights came on. Judd and the kids climbed out, and she moved to lower the tailgate in an effort to keep her eyes off of him. Looking at him wasn’t so bad if he wasn’t looking back, but when their eyes met, strange things happened inside of her—things like butterflies and nerves, tongue ties and cravings.
The kids ran around the grass inside the exhibit tent. She suddenly wished they were in a camping tent, far away, getting ready to roast marshmallows and tell ghost stories instead of facing the work that lay ahead. Adulting was hard. Thank goodness she had Judd’s unwavering help.
Their conversation about marriage desires—or lack of them, in her case—was weird. They used to talk about his dating life all the time. When had that become awkward between them?
Her mind bounced to the night of Thatcher’s funeral. Judd had walked into the house and found her teary-eyed, holding her babies. He’d sat next to her, taken Miles onto his lap, and they just existed in their shared grief. Being with someone who understood her pain, didn’t try to talk her into feeling better, but lifted her load was just what she’d needed.
He came the next night, and the next. One night he walked in and she had dinner ready for them all, just like she used to when Thatcher was alive. It was normal and as full of holes as a jack-o’-lantern. Judd hadn’t pointed it out, though—he just went with it. And when she broke down halfway through the meal and ran for her room, he finished up with the kids and then did the dishes. They’d continued on from there, and all talk of dating—and as far as she knew, actual dating—ended as Judd became the man her children looked to for strength and stability.
“Hey!” he called to the kids. “Stay close.”
They didn’t acknowledge hearing him but came back from the edge of the booth near the organic honey. No doubt they were tempted by the beautiful bottles of honey-related self-care products like perfume, foot balm, hair cream, and body butter. There was a cute sign that said “Anti-Aging” on one end of a table. Wynn needed to pick up some creams, because this “starting a business” thing created wrinkles by the hour. She’d look like a total hag by the time the festival was over.
“What’s first?” Judd wiggled his hand into a leather glove.
Wynn pushed her hair off her face and let out a breath. “I don’t even know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” He glanced from his loaded truck back to her.
“I made all this stuff; I just don’t know how to arrange it pretty. I’ve been stacking it all in the garage and off the patio to make room. I—” Her voice had gone so high, she ran out of oxygen and had to gulp in air. They had this load and then two more—along with a bunch of stuff she didn’t plan on putting out until things sold. What had she gotten herself into?
Judd scratched his head. “Maybe start with the rugs?”
“Yes.” Right. Rugs went on the ground—under furniture. “That’s a great idea.” They were on grass but allowed to put down carpet to protect the furniture. By the time the festival was over, the grass would be dormant anyway, so the city didn’t care much what they did to it now.
They reached for a rug at the same time, their bodies coming together and his arm brushing hers. He jumped back. “Sorry. You go ahead.”
Wynn ignored the way her heart buzzed at his nearness and grabbed the end of the rolled carpet, tugging with all her might. It slipped out and she tumbled back, right into Judd. He grunted and wrapped his arms around her to keep them both from falling.
“Sorry!” she cried out, doing her best to get back on her feet.
His hand slipped across Wynn’s stomach, and her knees buckled. She was hot and panting embarrassingly loudly.
“Mom,” Miles ran over, his eyes wide. “I’ll help.” He got under the end of the carpet and pushed up, his face turning red.
At the sight, Wynn was able to pull her focus off the feel of Judd’s solid body behind her and get back on neutral ground. “Thanks, bud.”
Judd pushed her up from behind, and her knees cooperated—thank goodness.
“I want to help too.” Laney had her hands on her hips and looked to be about three seconds away from a foot stomp.
Wynn laughed and tugged her ponytail. “Then get over here and roll this out.”
The kids knelt down and pushed at the rug until it was completely flat. Laney fell over herself and landed on her stomach. Judd picked her up and swung her around, both of them laughing.
Wynn studied the rug. The deep reds, oranges, and browns looked great against the cream backdrop and utilized the fall theme of the festival in a classy way.
“Maybe if we get the rest of the stuff off the truck, your creativity will kick in,” Judd offered.
“Yeah, and maybe my fairy godmother will show up and I’ll get to go to the ball.”
He laughed. “There is no ball. Just a barn dance every weekend with a five-dollar cover fee.”
Wynn glared at him. “You’re not helping.” She softened. “Except you’re pretty much my whole moving crew, so I take that back.”
His eyes twinkled. “I prefer the term muscleman.”
