No dramatic entrance. No crowd gathering. No attention-seeking.
He's carrying three folding tables across one shoulder while helping an elderly volunteer navigate an icy patch.
The woman says something and he laughs, a genuine laugh.
The kind I hear more often now.
The kind that keeps surprising me.
Something in my chest shifts. Then I immediately ignore it, because that seems healthier.
Jillie spots him half a second later.
"COLBY!"
Every head within fifty feet turns.
Jillie launches herself across the snow.
I open my mouth.
Too late.
Colby barely has time to set down the tables before she crashes into him.
He catches her automatically like he's done it a hundred times. Which is ridiculous.
Because he hasn't. Not really.
Still, the motion looks practiced, comfortable, natural.
Dangerously natural.
"Good morning, Sprinkle Manager," he says.
Jillie giggles.
"You remembered."
"Important position."
"The most important."
"That's what I heard."
I shouldn't enjoy watching them.
I definitely shouldn't enjoy it when Colby glances up and catches me smiling.
Yet here we are.
He walks over with Jillie still attached to his side.
"Morning."
"Morning."
His gaze flicks toward the pastry table.
