Chapter 17 Winnie
WINNIE
I’m supposed to be reviewing the Fire & Ice Fest insurance binder, but instead I’m staring out my office window at the mountains, thinking about sawdust in my hair and hazel eyes that shift between green and whiskey and the way Patton’s voice deepens when he calls me by my name.
This is a problem.
“Earth to Winnie!” Mindy waves a hand in front of my face.
I startle.
“Are you on squirrel watch?”
I blink, refocusing on the document that might as well be written in ancient Greek for all the sense it’s making right now. “I was thinking.”
“About how the copier died again? Heads up, by the way.” Thomas appears in my doorway, sloppily eating what looks like a Crush Cake.
Emphasis on crush, as in he’s demolishing the thing and I may have one of those on a certain firefighter. A crush, not a cake, though come to think of it, I have yet to sample one. For all I know, they could taste like cardboard. Doubtful, but possible.
“I’m thinking about … work. Definitely work. Thanks, Thomas. I’ll call the repair company.” I am not considering a possible crush on Patton.
He sighs. “I did my best.”
Mindy perches on the edge of my desk, eyes sly. She leans in and looks from side to side as if to make sure we’re alone. Voice just above a whisper, she says, “Or were you thinking about a certain firefighter?”
I blurt, “Policy premiums and deductibles.”
“Mmm. Sure. Along with very professional work thoughts about very professional vendor negotiations and a very professional almost-kiss in a dusty bakery to be.”
My face flames. “How do you—?”
“Silver Sam saw you two through the window,” Thomas supplies helpfully.
I thought we were alone! Patton and I then, and Mindy and me now. What is it with this place?
Thomas continues, “Sam told Lucky at the gas station. Lucky told everyone at Huck’s this morning. The diner told the rest of the town.”
“Nothing happened!”
“Yet,” Mindy sing-songs.
I bury my face in my hands. “I hate small towns.”
“No, you don’t.” Thomas takes another bite of his Crush Cake, and the sweet scent makes my heart hop. I should probably watch my cholesterol. Sugar intake. Patton exposure.
Pauline appears and adds, “You love it here. You love the gossip and the quirky people and—”
“And Patton,” Mindy finishes.
“I do not love Patton Cross!”
Through the glass partition wall, said firefighter looks up from his desk across the hall. Our eyes meet. He raises one eyebrow in that cocky way that shouldn’t be attractive but might be. Okay, fine. It, unfortunately, regrettably, absolutely is.
I grab a file folder and hold it up to block my face.
“Smooth,” Thomas observes with a chuckle.
Mindy stands, pacing my small office like she’s about to pitch a business plan. “Okay, so here’s what we’re thinking. You, Winnie Sorrentino, are the town’s people whisperer. You can charm anyone—Mayor Barbie, the feuding grandmas, even Geraldine Thorndike, who hasn’t smiled since 1987.”
“What’s your point?” I ask, not at all keen about where this line of conversation might be going.
“The point is,” Thomas says, wiping frosting from his chin, “we have a challenge for you.”
I lower the folder cautiously. “Do I really want to know?” Then again, a challenge might be a good distraction from Patton.
Mindy rubs her hands together like a villainous mastermind. “Can you get Maverick—notorious grouch, emotionally unavailable firefighter, the man who considers smiling a sign of weakness, who reeks of confidence—to smile and enjoy himself at the Fireman’s Ball?”
“That’s—” I start … not the kind of challenge I was going for. Plus, I’m pretty sure Patton’s favorite kind of fun is being in his own company and I’m not talking about the burgeoning bakery business.
“Not just a polite smile,” Pauline interrupts. “A real one. Joy. Laughter. Maybe even dancing.” She shimmies her shoulders.
“You want me to make Patton Cross dance?”
“We want you to make Patton Cross happy,” Mindy corrects.
“Genuinely, visibly happy. At a social event. In front of witnesses.” Pauline folds her hands primly.
I should say no. This is ridiculous. Manipulative. Possibly cruel.
But my competitive nature is already calculating odds. The part of me that knows I shouldn’t be at all interested in him wants to sabotage the budding feelings buried beneath the frost of failed relationships.
“What are the stakes?” I hear myself ask.
Mindy’s smile widens. “Winner picks the theme for next year’s Founders Festival.”
“And the loser,” Thomas adds with entirely too much glee, “has to attend the Parks and Recreation Regional Convention.”
I sink back in my seat. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Oh yes.” Pauline nods solemnly.
Mindy circles me while saying, “Five days of mandatory workshops. ‘Innovative Playground Safety Solutions.’ Always a blast. ‘The Art of Picnic Tables.’ Boring. And the legendary interpretive dance seminar where you learn to express municipal budgets through movement.”
Thomas demonstrates what he calls “The Water Treatment Plant Ballet,” complete with swirling arms, while wearing a wan expression.
I’m torn between horror and hysterical laughter.
Pauline speaks gravely, “Unfortunately, you’d be rooming with Thomas. We only had the budget for one accommodation. Two beds, though, don’t worry.”
Thomas waves his Crush Cakes napkin like a hankie. “Apologies in advance about the snoring. My mother says it’s like a chainsaw being amplified through a megaphone.”
“This is cruel and unusual punishment.”
“So don’t lose,” Mindy says simply. “Just make Patton smile. How hard can it be?”
I think about yesterday and the vulnerable conversation about Captain Kendrick, the almost-kiss interrupted by Silver Sam, the way Patton looked at me like I was something more than just the Parks & Rec director who makes his patience feel as thin as cheap plastic wrap.
I crack my knuckles. “Fine. Challenge accepted.”
They high-five each other, and I immediately regret everything because of what I don’t tell them.
I’m already developing real feelings for Patton Cross.
This isn’t a game of who can hate who harder anymore.
This is getting involved in something that could undo me, so it’s best to put a stop to it now.
I have other things to focus on—namely, the restaurant, my grandmother’s house, and work.
My pride won’t let me back down.
But my silly, hopeful little heart also thinks that if I can make him smile at the Ball, it’ll mean he’s feeling what I’m feeling too.
Having forgotten lunch, I head to Huck’s Lake View Diner, hoping for an affordable special as well as mercy, considering what Thomas said about the blabber mouths around here.
Elmer Finch, town treasurer, waves from his usual booth. His weathered face creases into a smile. “Heard you and that firefighter were getting cozy at the old station!”
I plop into a seat at the counter, trying to be invisible. “We were working on permits and other paperwork.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Judy asks from a nearby table.
“Sure, sure.” Lucky, parked a few stools down, winks. “That’s what they all say. In my day, we called it courting.”
“We’re not courting!”
“The captain’s ghost thinks you are!” Silver Sam materializes beside me. “I consulted with him last night. He appeared in a shimmer of mist and smoke, and relayed that I should tell you to stop being so stubborn!”
I stare at him. “The ghost speaks in complete sentences?”
“He’s very articulate for a specter.”
Peggy appears with coffee I didn’t order.
It must be obvious that I’m desperate for a jolt of caffeine.
“Everyone in town sees the way you two look at each other, dear.” She gazes at the ceiling for a moment.
“It’s like you’re trying to solve a puzzle and have the edges but can’t quite figure out the middle. ”
“We’re not—it’s just—we’re planning an event together!”
“Mmmhmm.” She pats my hand. “Whatever you say.”
I’m saved by my phone buzzing. I huddle around it so no one sees that the text is from Patton.