Page 19
“My day today is booked.”
His lips quirk as he scans the shelves.
“Literally,” he says quietly.
I feel a smile crest against my lips. There’s a small glimmer of the guy I used to know.
“That’s not what I meant, but yeah, that too.” I drag my finger down the page of my planner. “I’m working here until noon, which’ll be about when your mom’s appointment is over, right?”
He nods.
“Which would be good timing, except I’m signed up to organize donations for the military toy drive over at the library until four. Then I have video calls with some of the indie authors whose books I stock and distribute. We’re doing a virtual dinner. After that I have rehearsals with the Dasher Valley Women’s Choir to go over our holiday caroling game plan. It’s our second to last practice before the big night.”
“Yikes.” Gabe rests a hip against the front counter. “When do you have time to eat?”
“Didn’t you hear me say it’s a dinner meeting with—” I break off when I notice his smirk. “Oh, you’re making fun of me.”
My stomach sinks, and I hate it.
“Not making fun.” Gabe clears his throat. “Marveling at your packed schedule.”
“It’s the busiest time of the year,” I defend. “My favorite time of the year. I like to be involved in the community.”
“Clearly.”
“Okay, well, what about tomorrow?” I look down at my planner. “I could meet you at six.”
“Great. We could get dinner and talk through your ideas.”
“Six in the morning,” I amend.
Gabe’s eyes widen. “Seriously?”
“I’ve got another packed day.” I lift my shoulder. “You know what? If it’s too hard to coordinate our schedules, I can handle the Christmas Dash on my own. It’s fine.”
Gabe studies me, and I resist the urge to squirm under his gaze.
“It may be fine for you,” he says. “Because obviously you’re a qualified multitasker. Some things never change,” he adds more softly.
A swooping sensation takes over in my stomach, pressing pause on the plummet. I grip the counter. I cannot have Gabe McKenzie throwing me off-balance. That ship has sailed, and now, our lives are far too different to ever line up and intertwine again.
“But,” he goes on, “I promised my mom. If I don’t help you, she’ll disown me, and I’d miss out on her Christmas cookies.”
I allow myself a full grin at that because Elena is not someone you want to cross. And her Christmas cookies are almost as legendary as Buddy the Elf’s. “So six tomorrow morning?”
“If that’s the only time you’re free, then sure.” Gabe nods, a lock of his hair falling over his forehead. “Where do you want to meet?”
“The Clatter Café?” I suggest. “Best coffee in town.”
“At that hour, I’m going to need it in an IV,” Gabe grumbles.
“It’s a date, then.” I blink and feel my face turn cold as the blood drains out of it. “Not a date. Definitely not,” I say with a nervous chuckle. I flip my planner closed and shove it back onto the shelf below. It falls to the ground with a thud, and papers whoosh out. I bend to retrieve them, stuffing them back inside willy-nilly. I clutch the planner to my chest. “Never mind all that. All this.”
Gabe blinks, swallows. “Right . . . yeah, I should get going.” He hooks his thumb over his shoulder. “Never can trust Mom to take it easy.”
I nod. “Okay, then.”
Gabe glances at the door and then back at me. There’s a wistfulness to his expression that makes my pulse kick up. For a moment it looks like he might say something else. I hold my breath, hoping to find some shred of normalcy in whatever it is—some hope that the ease of communication we used to share can be salvaged.
