Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Aaron
Dinner lasts far longer than I would’ve ever expected, conversation flowing easily. Jenna’s funny and quick-witted, making quips about nearly everything, making good natured jokes at her own expense as well as mine.
We split a dessert—a flourless chocolate cake with ice cream that had drool practically dripping from the corner of her mouth—and after I take care of the bill, I reluctantly stand and put on my coat. Jenna does the same, but I step forward, reaching for her coat. “May I?”
She looks at me for a moment like she’s unsure whether or not to let me help her on with her coat, but then lets me take the wool coat from her hand and hold it for her as she slips her arms in the sleeves.
After wrapping a scarf around her neck and digging gloves out of the pockets, she does up the buttons and says, “Okay. Ready.”
I can’t help grinning at her. “I know it’s chilly out, but we’re not roaming the arctic tundra.”
“Says the man who probably grew up sucking on icicles on his way to school while walking ten miles in six feet of snow uphill both ways.”
My laugh booms out of me at that quip, and I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle it when we get looks from the remaining diners in the restaurant.
Holding out my arm for her again, I shake my head, my grin irrepressible, my shoulders still shaking with suppressed laughter.
“I’ll admit that I’m used to the winters here, though I’d never make that outrageous of a claim. My dad, on the other hand …”
She grins up at me. “Oh? Was he an uphill both ways kinda guy? Or was it worse? Did he tell you that his dad made him lick the street clean before laying into him with bread knives?”
“What?” I give her a shocked look, stopping in my tracks.
Giggling, she shakes her head. “It’s a Monty Python sketch. My dad was a big fan, and I grew up watching them. They have one sketch where they’re all competing about how bad they had it, ‘Back in my day,’” She does a bad English accent on the last phrase. “I’ll find it online and send you a link.”
“I look forward to it.” I glance down at her again, taking in her coat. “You could get a warmer coat, you know. If you’re feeling underprepared for these temperatures. Winter’s barely started, and if you’re freezing already, I’m afraid it’ll be a long, uncomfortable season for you.”
Her face pinches as she considers my words. “It’s this cold all winter?”
I lift one shoulder. “It can be. Or close to it. Sometimes it gets colder. Some winters are more mild. There’s just no telling what the season’ll bring. It’s better to be prepared, though.” I give her another assessing look. “You have snow tires? And a good window scraper for your car?”
“I have all-weather tires. And they’re new. I just bought them in October. And yes, I have a good window scraper.”
I nod. “Good. If you need help figuring out what else you might need, let me know. I have a shop full of stuff no one uses. I might have whatever you’re missing already.”
She stops, and when I glance at her to see what the hold up is, she’s staring at me, mouth open in shock. “Seriously?”
My brow wrinkles, and I glance to the side. We’re by the hostess stand, but the hostess is somewhere else. “Uh, yeah? Why?”
She shakes her head and resumes walking, letting out a low chuckle. “It’s just funny. At the first ChristmasFest committee meeting, you seemed to take an immediate dislike to me. I was certain we’d be sworn enemies for life—you and the Karen brigade.”
“Wait. Are you calling me a Karen?”
Her lips press together, but the corners of her mouth curve, like she’s losing the war with her smile. One of her shoulders lifts. “If the shoe fits.”
At my sound of protest, she laughs, shaking her head and waving her free hand. “Anyway. That’s not the point.”
“Oh? And what is the point.”
“The point.” She spears me with a look as I hold the door open for her. “Satan’s tits, it’s cold!” she exclaims as she walks outside, reaching up to bury her face in her scarf. She hops back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Why does this level of cold exist? It should be illegal!”
I’m cracking up now, being called a Karen notwithstanding—can a man even be a Karen? How does that work?—“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad,” I protest.
She glares at me above her scarf. “Uh-huh. Breadknives, is it?”
Still grinning, I shake my head, catching that she’s referencing the sketch she mentioned earlier. I’ll have to be sure to watch it when she sends me the link. Not that I was planning not to, but if she’s going to keep making jokes about it, I want in on the joke.
“Let’s get you in the car. I’ll turn the heat on. I can even get out the emergency blanket, if you want.”
I’m pretty sure she narrows her eyes at me like she thinks I’m being an ass with the blanket offer, but I’m not.
I keep a couple of blankets in the truck this time of year in case of emergency.
I also have a couple blankets that I used with Colin when he was still in a five point harness and couldn’t wear his coat in his car seat.
One of the best things about him being able to be in a high back booster now using the shoulder belt is that I don’t have to deal with the coats-aren’t-safe-in-a-car-seat-harness issue anymore.
I hold open her door for her again, moving quickly and carefully to get around to the driver’s side so I can turn on the truck but also not slip on the ice.
Once I’m inside and the heater’s blasting, I reach into the small back seat where Colin sits, grabbing the two blankets that are folded up next to his booster.
Shaking one out as best I can, I lean over and drape it over her lap, tucking it around her legs.
“Wait, what?” She laughs in surprise. “I didn’t think you were serious about the blankets. I know I complain a lot, but seriously, I’m fine.”
I shake my head, undoing the other blanket and draping it around her upper body. She’s clearly not fine, with her arms wrapped tightly around herself and her shoulders hunched, trying desperately to get warm. “Between those and the heated seats, you’ll warm up in no time.”
“Just in time to get back to my own freezing car,” she mumbles into her scarf.
I give her a narrow-eyed look, seeing if I can figure out a solution to that problem. “Tell you what, when we get back to your car, you give me your keys. I’ll hop out and start your car, and we can wait in here while your car warms up.”
“That would be lovely, actually.”
Shaking my head, I give her a quizzical look. “Why do you sound so surprised that I want to be nice to you?”
I think she shrugs, but it’s hard to tell beneath the blankets and in the dark. “Maybe because you haven’t been nice to me at all before this week? And now … what exactly is this? Is it a date? Because it feels like a date.”
“It’s a date,” I say, my voice low. “And I am sorry for how I treated you before. I should’ve been better than that.” I press my lips together, her earlier comment about me being one of the Karens still ringing in my ears. “But do you seriously think of me as a Karen?”
She cackles. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to let that go.”
“No, but seriously,” I continue. “I’m a man. How does that even work?”
Another shrug—or at least I’m pretty sure that’s what it is. “You ganged up with the Karens. You even seemed to be their leader, at least some of the time. What will they do now that you’ve defected?”
I snort. “Defected?”
One of her hands comes out of the blanket, and she gestures between us. “Like I said before, you’re consorting with the enemy. You said this is a date.” That hand raises to cover her mouth with her fingertips. “What will you do? Is your whole identity in crisis?”
“Well, yeah, now that you’ve called me a Karen.”
She nearly topples to the side from laughing so hard. “Oh my god. I had no idea I would cause an existential crisis with that comment. But you have to admit that you were very condescending and picky about every single thing I had to say, even things where you agreed with me!”
I shift in my seat. “You’re right,” I admit grudgingly. “I already apologized for being terrible to you.”
Her laughter calms. “You did. And I appreciate that. And it’s clear from your behavior the last few days that you’re working on behaving differently, which I also appreciate. You did make a good point about sticking with what’s familiar to everyone to get them on my side.”
I grunt. “It’s not just to get people on your side. I think if you give what we’ve been doing a chance, you’ll see that most of it works pretty well.”
Leaning closer, she says, “And I think that if you give some of my ideas a chance, you’ll see that we can make things even better.
” Sitting back in her seat, she raises both hands, palms out.
“But I don’t want to argue about this right now.
We’ve still got weeks left of this ChristmasFest. We’re doing things the way we’re doing them this year.
We’ll have our meeting in January where we can go over what went well, what went terribly, and what would go better if we just tweak it a little. ”
My brows jump. “Do you have a list already started?”
“Of course.” She grins. “What kind of events coordinator would I be if I didn’t?
I also have a similar list for the summer events, but since Cynthia was still in charge of those, I think I might just pick one or two things that I think are most important and suggest making those changes for this year.
Maybe with a successful event under our belt together, people will be more open to my suggestions in general, especially if they don’t feel like I’m just coming in and wanting to change everything. ”
That still gives me pause. “But you do still seem like you want to make big changes.”
She sighs. “Not to everything. Not to the spirit of the events. Just some of the logistics to make them run more smoothly. And I think adding a few things here and there can help draw in even more people. And isn’t that what we want?
To bring people to town? Arcadian Falls depends on tourism to run. ”
“That’s true,” I say slowly. “But we don’t want so many people here that we feel overrun. We’re already outnumbered in the summer. Not as much during ChristmasFest, but it’s still noticeable.”
Studying me, she hums softly. “Does it get boring here between ChristmasFest and summer?”
Grinning, I shake my head. Then shrug. “I wouldn’t call it boring, but maybe some people would.
I like having time and space to breathe during the off-season, though.
January feels like a relief after the constant activity of ChristmasFest. I don’t think you’ll be bored, though, because once ChristmasFest is over, you’ll be diving into the summer events and laying the groundwork for next year.
Like you said, our events are what draw crowds, and that’s what keeps the lights on, both literally and figuratively.
” I nod toward her side of the car. “Why don’t you buckle up.
We’ll be out all night if we don’t get you back to your car. ”