Tarryn pulled up outside Kirra’s Kafé. “Here you are. Think you can manage the stairs alone?”
“Of course.” Allie fumbled in her bag for the key and clutched it in her fist. “I’m not that smashed.”
“I’m not saying you are, just that the stairs are steep.”
“Thanks, I’ll be fine.” Allie turned to Tarryn in the dark truck. Her eyes were mysterious and dark, like coals. She reached out and touched her arm. Her sweatshirt was pushed up and her bare skin was surprisingly warm in the cool night. “Thanks for driving me home. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“No worries. Night, Sophie.”
The truck idled as Allie fitted her key into the lock, and only when she reached the living area and turned the light on did it drive away.
Chapter 9
It had been a coupleof days since dinner at Will and Garrett’s, and Tarryn had had enough. Enough of wedding dresses, enough of canapés, and photographers’ portfolios of staged cute pictures designed to look spontaneous. And certainly, she’d read enough wedding celebrant brochures to last her a lifetime.
Whose stupid idea was this festival anyway?She cast a longing glance to the end of her shed that housed her workshop. The tall gas cylinder and the blocky shape of the welding machine taunted her, as did the still legless metal emu she hoped would end up in Silver Creek Park. The Gay Bells festival was sucking her time and energy like the worst sort of clingy girlfriend.
But it was a job, and a well-paid one that benefitted her town. So she’d spent what seemed like hours on the phone to the Council sorting permits and emailing all the vendors of the slow food festival and wedding fair with the parking and access arrangements for the festival. She’d also arranged for the feedstore at the edge of town to provide truck parking. That would ease congestion around the main festival area.
She slid into the truck, threw her bag on the passenger seat, and started the engine. Ally and Elly stared at her over the fence as she drove toward the road. It had been a few days since she’d taken them for a walk. Yet another thing she’d had no time for this last week. But right now, she had to meet Sophie, Kirra, Garrett, Jason, and the ever-present Phyll for a run through of the requirements for the fake wedding and the afterparty.
Two and a half weeks until the festival. Right now, it seemed like two and a half years.
When she pulled into the car park for The Hollowman, the first vehicle she saw was Sophie’s Mitsubishi emblazoned with signage promoting her business. The second was Phyll’s microscopic Nissan. Tarryn checked the time on the dash. She was seven minutes early, but no doubt Sophie and Phyll had arrived twenty minutes ago and had already worked through most of the agenda with Jason.
She locked her truck and entered the pub via the back door. Sure enough, Sophie, Phyll, and Jason were sitting around one of the tall tables in the empty bar, steaming mugs in front of them.
“Hi, Tarryn.” Jason jumped to his feet. “Coffee?”
She shot him a grateful smile. “That would be wonderful, thanks, Jase.” She turned to the others. “You both are nice and early. Again. Maybe you should tell me to arrive twenty minutes earlier so I don’t miss anything. Again.”
Sophie blinked. “I guess we’re both early birds. And you’re not.”
“Seven minutes early. Plenty of time to get settled for anine o’clockmeeting. If you don’t need me here, I’d have appreciated knowing ahead.”
“You’re needed,” Sophie said. “We haven’t started yet. Just chatting. Besides, Garrett and Kirra haven’t arrived yet.”
Tarryn let her gaze drift from Sophie’s mussed hair, down her slender neck, to narrow shoulders. She was wearing a lavender sweatshirt today that somehow enhanced the grey of her eyes. The baggy top skimmed rather than clung, but her slender forearms and delicate hands, exposed by the pushed-up sleeves, gave plenty for Tarryn to absorb. Graceful hands, with long fingers and short, buffed nails. For a second, she wondered how those hands would feel on her skin. She shook her head. Sophie still had a no-touch vibe about her.
“Glad to see you here on time,” Phyll said.
Did Phyll have to niggle at her every time? She buried the surge of irritation in an artificial sweet smile.
Jason arrived back with a mug of coffee and set it down in front of Tarryn. “Here you go. Double shot. You look like you need it.”
So much for being alert and ready to go, then. She cupped it in both hands and inhaled the smell.
The door crashed open, and Kirra sauntered in, followed by Garrett. Kirra hitched up her floral skirt above her knees and hoisted herself onto the barstool. “Jason, I smell coffee, and if someone who isn’t me makes me one, I will kiss them.”
Jason blushed pink. “No kisses necessary, but you still get your coffee. Garrett, you as well?”
“Please,” Garrett said.
Kirra looked over at Jason as he fiddled with the coffee machine behind the bar. “Nothing is guaranteed to make a straight man blush more than a trans woman offering to kiss him.”
“Jason’s a good man,” Phyll said. “It’s wrong to embarrass him.”
Kirra gave her a pensive look. “You’re quite right, Phyll, darling. I was wrong.” Her gaze tracked Jason as he moved back and forth making coffee.
