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Sophie waved a hand, "No worries. I hate to rush everyone, but I'm freezing. If we don't get a move on, I'm going to crash the barn and cuddle with the kittens instead, Davis or no Davis."
Jo shook her head. "It's your funeral. But if you think he was cranky about the shirtless pictures your clients took when you flew them over the farm, it'll look like a minor blunder compared to you interrupting his kitten time. My brotherhatesbeing disturbed. He's not above threatening your balloon with a shotgun this spring if you make him mad."
"Let's get to it then," Gwen said, cutting through the budding argument. We'd heard it before, Jo protecting her surly brother's privacy, while Sophie insisted that she was perfectly unobtrusive and he wouldn't mind her. Sophie had a tendency to roll right through objections with a smile. It made her both persuasive and scary. Part of me wanted to see a showdown between Davis and Sophie. In a battle between dour discipline and bright optimism, it was hard to tell who would win.
"Eve?"
Gwen's prompt pulled me from contemplating Sophie’s strengths, and I straightened in my chair.
"Right. I think we're about set for the auction. There are just a few details I need your help with."
We finalized the menu, and Gwen, Izzy, Sophie, and Jo helped me brainstorm my bachelor introductions. We wrapped up council business as quickly as possible, eager to finish before the snow started.
"Did your proxy contact you?" Gwen asked as we picked up our cups and started back toward Jo's house and our cars.
"Yes," I said, glancing at her serene expression. "Are you going to bid on anyone?"
"Maybe," she said, swiftly hiding a smile.
"Never play poker," I warned.
She chuckled.
"I think it's going to be a great event. Thanks again for taking the lead on planning."
"It's been fun," I said, realizing that it had. It was a much larger undertaking than anything I'd done before, but I'd enjoyed putting all the parts and pieces of the auction together. It felt good give back to the tightknit community that had accepted me as one of their own. "Any progress on your project for the auction?" I asked, thinking about her vow to bait a trap for the person who'd been undermining our efforts to rebrand Campfire.
Gwen shook her head. "I'm stuck. I feel like we've done well to prevent anything serious with the caterer, venue, and donors. I'm just not sure where they'll strike next, or how to root them out."
"Do you really think they'll try again? We managed to counteract everything they attempted at the fall festival. What are the odds they've given up?"
"About as good as me winning in a hand of poker," Gwen admitted, smiling wryly. "I'll keep working on a plan. You've got enough on your plate with the auction itself, I don't want you worrying about anything else."
"We're in this together."
"But ultimately, the responsibility is mine. Relax, Eve. Let's enjoy Thanksgiving. Enjoy Brady." She winked at me. "I'll figure out countermeasures for the auction."
Chapter 19
Brady
Halloweenmayhavebeenthe holiday that carried the most memories of Joe, but I’d forever associate Thanksgiving with my mother. She reveled in cooking for a crowd. The more, the merrier. From the time I was small, my memories were of a houseful of people and tables laden with food. I couldn’t wait for Eve to join the party and meet my family. Inviting her to Thanksgiving felt right. Besides, it was a Campfire tradition, my mom inviting most of the newcomers to join our table for the holiday. Likely Eve would be there even if our relationship hadn't changed, but having her there added a layer of novelty to the day. I wanted to share my family traditions with her. The food, the card games, and the togetherness.
“Do you mind a tiny detour?” I asked Eve as we got into my car. “I need to check on something.”
The drive to my folks would take us by my storage yard, and I liked to check on thePrincipal’s Officewhenever I could during the off-season.
“Not at all, so long as we’re not late.”
Eve bit at her bottom lip, and I threaded my fingers with hers, resting them on the console between us.
Amused at the change in her, I shot her a grin. “You’re, worried about being late. What’s gotten into you?”
“You.”
My chuckle turned into a belly laugh. Her wry delivery was perfect.
“Yeah, I have.” I lifted our hands, landing a kiss on the seam between our fingers. “Don’t worry, I won’t make us late.”
