"Mmm hmm." Lily didn't sound convinced. "And the plates?"
"Were an accident."
"The resulting deer-in-headlights expression?"
"Also an accident." Annabelle sighed. "Can we not do this right now? We've got eight hundred pounds to count anddeposit, and I need to update the fundraising spreadsheet, and—"
"And you're changing the subject."
"I'm prioritizing," Annabelle corrected. "The library is what matters. Everything else is just… distraction."
But as she helped Lily pack up the remaining baked goods, Annabelle couldn't quite stop thinking about the brief warmth of Raven's fingers against hers.
Or the way Raven had looked at her when she'd praised the biscuits, uncomfortable and pleased and almost shy.
Or the fact that Raven had spent her Saturday morning baking and helping and being present, despite clearly wanting to be anywhere else.
Eight hundred pounds, she reminded herself firmly. That was the important thing. They'd raised eight hundred pounds, and this was just the start, and everything was going exactly according to plan.
More or less.
Mostly.
Apart from the bit where she'd suddenly realized her grumpy neighbor was devastatingly attractive, but that was fine. Completely fine. Not remotely complicated or concerning.
She'd just… ignore it.
That always worked, didn't it?
Chapter Twelve
Raven had been to some truly hellish rehearsals in her career. She'd dealt with bass players so drunk they couldn't remember their own names, drummers who'd shown up four hours late, and that one memorable tour where Alissa had decided mid-soundcheck that she was going to "reinvent the setlist as performance art."
But none of it, absolutely none of it, had prepared her for the chaos that was a primary school fundraiser rehearsal.
"Children!" Gloria bellowed from the front of the school hall, her arms spread wide like she was conducting an orchestra rather than wrangling twenty-eight eight-year-olds. "We mustfeelthe music! Feel it in our souls!"
One of the kids picked his nose.
Another was lying flat on the floor for no apparent reason.
"From the top!" Gloria commanded. "And this time, withpassion!"
Raven leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, and contemplated faking an emergency. A small fire, maybe. Nothing dangerous, just enough smoke to evacuate the building.
The children launched into the song she'd rewritten for them. Badly. Off-key didn't begin to describe it. It was as if they'ddecided to perform in seventeen different keys simultaneously, none of which being the correct one.
"Stop, stop, STOP!" Gloria threw up her hands. "Posture, children! Stand tall! Project from the diaphragm!"
"They're eight," Raven muttered under her breath.
Arty, who was up a ladder doing something complicated with stage lights, chuckled. "Welcome to amateur theater."
"I didn't agree to this."
"Pretty sure you did. I was there."
Raven scowled. He wasn't wrong, but that didn't make her feel any better about it.
