He holds my gaze a second too long, a smirk spreading across his lips.
“I am being careful,” he says.
“I saw Theo’s Dad earlier,” he adds, tone changing, “didn’t mean to stare. Just… noticed.”
I feel the tiniest flicker of something in my chest.
“You’ve got your thing,” he continues, “I’m not here to mess with that.”
There it is. The line. And instead of feeling relieved, I feel unsettled but I don’t delve into that statement anymore. Rory doesn’t need to know that James cheated on me and is now with that very same woman.
“Good,” I reply lightly. “Because I don’t have time to manage emotional chaosanda raffle table.”
He huffs a laugh. “Emotional chaos, ha, Story of my life.”
“You could try being boring,” I suggest, pointing at him with my pen.
“Tempting. But I’d be bad at it.”
“Undoubtedly.”
We both smile, the kind that belongs to people who know each other too well. I slide the stall layout toward him. Our fingers almost brush. I pull my hand back first.
“You’re on gazebos and games,” I say. “Heavy lifting.”
“Great, my strong suit.”
“I’m sure” I say, glancing at his bulging biceps before quickly looking away.
He tilts his head slightly. “You don’t trust me?”
“With inflatable reindeer and oversized tents?”
“With anything.”
There’s challenge in it now.
“I trust you with gazebos,” I reply calmly. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
He laughs, properly this time, and the sound catches me off guard in the worst possible way. God, I forgot how easy this part was. We fall into it without meaning to. Teasing. Half-arguments about stall placement. Him insisting hook-a-duck needs better branding. Me telling him he’s not allowed to rebrand primary school games like a corporate takeover.
At one point he leans closer to look at the map and murmurs, “You always smell like vanilla, even now.”
My heart stumbles.
“That’s hand cream,” I say too quickly.
“Right.”
Silence hums for half a beat. He straightens first.
“Anyway,” he says lightly, almost deliberately shifting gears, “I’ll keep this strictly gazebo-related.”
And within a second, we are professional again. Which is somehow hotter than if he’d pushed.
By the time we’ve mapped out the stalls and assigned responsibilities, my brain feels like it’s run a marathon.
He closes his laptop.
