But things don’t always land the same way in written form. And that’s all it was. It can’t be that it was wrong to type those words because they felt too real to me.
I haven’t known him long enough, have I?
I’m ready to go when I get the next text from him.I’m outside. Can we make our escape without me coming in and getting sucked into the Byrne family chaos?
Without even bothering to reply, I slip out the kitchen door and climb into the passenger seat of his SUV. I barely have my seatbelt fastened before he’s pulling out of the driveway.
I would have liked a kiss, but I make do with his hand reaching over to cover mine.
“Is it bad in there?” he asks, humor in his voice. “I feel bad for not going in, but once you’re in there, it’s hard to get out.”
“Everybody’s so nice, but it’s a lot.”
“I bet Beth can whip us up something that will help,” he says, and then he gives me a grin that threatens to stop my heart.
Two hours later, we’ve stuck a bunch of two-foot-tall candy canes in the snow covering a patch of grass on the front lawn of the library. We used the pattern we sketched out several days ago, but I’m not sure we did it right.
“It’s not much of a maze.” I put my hands on my hips, looking over the very short candy canes we’ve anchored in the snow. “You’re not supposed to be able to see the entire thing before you start.”
“It’s for the little ones,” he says, his voice thick with amusement. “We’re not really looking to give them candy cane trauma. And the parents like being able to see them.”
“That’s a good point. I guess letting Sam loose in an actual maze of candy canes wouldn’t go over well with the Wilsons.”
“Also, we have teen volunteers who spend most of their time sticking the candy canes back in the snow after the kids knock them down. If we actually put a lot of time and labor into making the maze, it would make you cry.”
“I’ll check it off, then.”
“I don’t think there’s anything left we can do out here until we start herding the feral cats that are the parade participants.”
“When you say ‘out here’, you mean what?”
He sighs and gives me an exaggerated look of defeat, slumped shoulders and all. “It’s time to go back to the inn.”
As soon as we return, Rob is gathered up by his family, and Natalie pulls me aside.
“Donovan’s delayed in New York, but he said he should be on his way home in no time and that we shouldn’t worry.”
The blood drains from my face. “I’m so sorry. I should have been on top of that.”
“I know you’re very good at your job, but I don’t think maintaining every plane he might travel on is part of the job description.”
“It’s my job to know if he’s been delayed and find a way to smooth that out for him, not to hear it from his wife.” I was playing with plastic candy canes while Donovan Wilson was experiencing a travel glitch, and that’s unacceptable.
Natalie laughs and grabs my arm. “You look like you’re going to pass out, Whitney. Come on. Donovan called me to check on me, as husbands do. He mentioned the delay, and I told him you were working on the fair setup with Rob. Then we talked about Sam and the baby and all the chaos of the family. It’s a short delay and if he needed you, he would text you. Have a cookie or something. Relax.”
Hours later, my body aches from sitting on the floor, wrapping gifts with the rest of the family, but I’m thoroughly relaxed. It’s hard not to be when you’re surrounded by joyful, laughing people. The family has a system to keep track of the gifts being wrapped, so I’m able to fold and tape without worrying about it.
And every single time Rob catches my eye, he gives me a look that actually makes me wish some kind of fair-related emergency would come up so we could run off together. Maybe somebody knocking over all the candy canes. Or somebody trying to reenact the year of the slasher film with red food coloring.
It’s not until a door slams that I realize I’ve lost track of time. Sam runs in, tugging his dad’s hand while Donovan’s hand is holding Natalie’s.
“Look who we found on the porch,” Natalie says, beaming.
I’m horrified to realize I totally forgot about my boss and his travel woes, and here I am, sitting on the floor. I have ribbonsaround my neck—a necklace made by Mel—and Elsa and Sam had fun sticking bows to my hair.
I look and feel like anythingbutan excellent assistant.
My phone buzzes and I pull it out to find a text from Rob, who’s only about four feet from me.
