Page 68 of The Worst Possible Plan

He held my gaze. “I know so.”

That hit me somewhere I wasn’t expecting. Right behind my ribs.

“Thank you,” I told him, suddenly aware my palms were getting sweaty. “I had absolutely no idea what I was doing.”

“You figured it out.”

“I mostly guessed. I’m very good at winging things.” I paused. “It’s less of a skill and more of a long-term survival strategy.”

He searched my face for a second. “Winging things?”

I nodded. “Oh yes. I’ve accidentally built an entire career on looking like I know what I’m doing about five minutes before everybody discovers I don’t. Somehow it keeps working. I don’t understand it either.”

His smile widened just enough to show teeth. Such lovely teeth.

“My family thinks I’m a disaster. Especially my sister Margot, though she won’t say it to my face,” I kept on.

“The one with that big German Shepherd.”

“Zeus.” I nodded. “He’s a great dog. And really clever. Wait. You know about my sister?”

His thumb brushed my back. “I heard about the dog. Maplewood Falls is a small town. Word travels fast.”

I thought of something. “Do you have a sister? Sisters? A brother? Cousins?” There I went again with the nervous word vomit.

A chuckle sounded from him. “An older sister.”

“Ah ha. Then you know what I’m talking about.”

He laughed again. Softly this time. Controlled, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go of Sheriff Walker.

Yet dancing with him, talking, just enjoying the moment felt natural.

“This is nice,” I blabbed before I could stop myself. “I mean… this. The dancing. Just the dancing.”

He tugged me an inch closer. “It is nice.”

The music carried us slowly across the square. Around us, couples swayed beneath the café lights while laughter drifted in from the beer garden.

And suddenly I was very aware of how close he was, of the gentle pressure of his fingers against my back.

“You’re good at winging things,” said the sheriff after a beat. “I’ve been watching you.”

I cocked a brow. “Are you stalking me now?” And if so… why did I find that ridiculously attractive?

One corner of his mouth lifted. “I’ve been watching you work.”

That somehow sounded even better.

He looked into my eyes. “You don’t quit. You work hard.” His thumb shifted almost imperceptibly against the small of my back as we swayed with the music. “When something goes wrong, you don’t look for someone else to fix it. You figure it out.” His gaze never left mine. “That’s not winging it.” He paused just long enough for the words to settle between us. “That’s someone who’s stronger than she gives herself credit for.” Another beat. “You proved that today.” His smile was small but completely genuine. “You’re very capable, Hartwell.”

I felt my insides shift. Like a lock I’d been trying to force open for years had finally clicked all by itself.

All day I’d been carrying around this impossible feeling. Like maybe today hadn’t just been luck. Maybe the replacement band wasn’t luck. Maybe the volunteers listening wasn’t luck. Maybe people thanking me wasn’t luck either. Maybe I wasn’t simply surviving another job until someone eventually realized they’d hired the wrong person.

Maybe I’d been wrong about myself.

The thought was so unfamiliar it almost felt dangerous.