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Jo glanced up from her computer. “Not at all.”
He stepped inside. “I thought you’d have been working on your room.”
“I was.” She glanced back at the computer monitor. “Then some things came up.”
He nodded in understanding. He could respect someone prioritizing their work. She impressed him. A lot of people would have sacrificed their work in order to win the contest, but not Jo.
He pressed his hands to his sides. “If you need to call off the contest, that’s fine.”
Her gaze shifted to him. “Who said I wanted to quit?”
“Then shouldn’t you be working on your room?”
She leaned back in her chair. “Did you ever think I might have done that already?”
He wasn’t sure he believed her, but who was he to argue the point? Still, he found himself not ready to move on. He’d missed her company.
Ever since he’d almost kissed her on the path, they’d been dancing around each other. He wanted to get back to the friendly relationship they’d had when they were delivering the clothes to Second Love or when they’d been putting up flyers for the bicentennial around town.
“Do you think we could call a truce?” he asked.
Her eyes widened. “I didn’t know we were fighting.”
“We aren’t. It’s just that things between us haven’t been right lately.”
“And what would this truce look like?”
He hadn’t expected that response. “What would you like it to look like?”
She shrugged. “How are things going with the bungalow?”
He sank down on a chair across from her desk. “I packed a ton of boxes full of decorations and lamps. I was planning to ask you if there was someplace I could send them.”
“Every Wednesday there’s a pick up down by the docks for gently used things.”
He nodded. “Thanks. That’s good to know. I’m going to have a lot of things for them.” And then he had a thought. “Is there something of Sandra’s that you would like—you know, a memento?”
“I… I guess so.”
“Can you come over now? Or do you have to work?”
She glanced down at her desk. “This stuff can wait. Until the contest is over, I’m going to be working odd hours.” After she shut down her computer, she followed him out the door. “Thanks for being a good sport today.”
He shrugged. “Not a problem.”
“I honestly didn’t know they were going to do that.”
“Who are they?”
She told him about the mayor, Birdie, and Agnes being the contest judges. “You give people a little bit of power, and they run with it.”
As they made their way outside, he noticed how Jo was once more acting like herself. He liked her calm, easy demeanor. He wanted things to stay this way.
“Something tells me this isn’t the first time they’ve done something like this,” he said.
“They each like to help people.”
“Are you saying they think we need some sort of help?”
