Page 21 of Once Upon a Fall

“I think I should be the one thanking you,” I tell him.

It’s hard not to ask him again if I can take care of it. I feel like I should say it again. But the truth is, I don’t have time to fix it. And also, Dean seems like the kind of guy who says what he means.

“Hello?” a woman’s voice calls from the foyer.

I quickly exit the kitchen, Dean right behind me.

“Hi, Genevieve,” I say when I see the woman who owns the candle shop—The Velvet Wick—just two doors down, standing in the foyer.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” she says, walking toward me, a piece of paper in her hands, her short brown hair tucked behind her ears.

“What can I do for you?”

“As you know, I’m planning to do a candle-making class at the festival, and I made a flyer for people to sign up.” She holds out the paper toward me. “I was hoping you could hang it in your inn for guests to see?”

I take the paper from her, looking at the cute design.

“Of course,” I tell her, giving her a smile.

“Great. Thank you so much, Rosie.”

“No problem at all,” I say.

“And who’s this?” she asks, lifting her chin toward the spot behind me.

I turn to see Dean standing there with the box of supplies.

Now, how do I explain this? Genevieve, meet Dean, my first and only guest, whom I’ve put to work.

Nope.

Meet Dean; he pays me to stay here and also fixes my walls.

That’s worse.

Whatever I say, I need to be careful. Word spreads fast here, and the last thing I want is Emma or my dad coming over here wondering who the mysterious guy at my inn is.

“This is Dean,” I say simply.

Genevieve is smart. She’ll see the spackle and think he’s a handyman.

“Nice to meet you, Dean,” she says. “Thanks again, Rosie.”

She quickly leaves, and I turn to Dean. “I guess now I need to figure out where I can hang this,” I tell him, holding up the sign-up sheet.

I never thought of a place to hang things like this. I definitely don’t want it on my beautiful check-in desk.

The straight line of disapproval is back. “For your one guest?”

I snort out a laugh. “Right. Any chance you want to sign up for a candle-making class?”

“No,” he says.

I shrug. “Your loss.”

He doesn’t say anything in response; he just turns and goes up the stairs.

I set the flyer on the side table. Dean’s right. I have exactly one guest to advertise to, and he already said no. I’ll hang it anyway once I figure out where that will be. It’s the nice thing to do.