Page 37 of Fire in My Heart

I drove to my temporary apartment, secured my firearm, and changed into my farm attire. It didn’t matter what I looked like because prepping for the festival wasn’t a date. My brothers would be there, determined to keep me focused.

I found Charlotte in front of the barn where she was talking to Wes about the placement of picnic tables. She had her tablet in her hands, and she was showing him something on the screen. Probably one of her diagrams for the setup.

I intended to act professional tonight. Not to remember our evening together in her cottage. “You ready for us to move tables?”

Charlotte looked up at me and blinked slowly. “I was just telling Wes where everything should go. Are you sure you can spare the hands tonight? It looks busy.”

Wes nodded. “We can always step in if we’re needed.”

Charlotte nodded. “Great. Let’s get started then.”

Wes walked away, and Charlotte edged closer to me, tilting her screen in my direction. “I’d like the tables situated like this. The trucks will be here.”

I barely glanced at the diagram, because her floral scent was overwhelming my senses. “Sounds good.”

“Then the tables for vendors will be lined up on either side of the lane here. But we don’t need to move those until the morning of the festival.”

Needing space, I said, “I’ll help Wes.”

Charlotte stood nearby with her tablet, directing us where to place each picnic table. I think we could have done it on our own, but she had specific ideas where they should be placed for optimal flow.

When we went to grab another table, Wes said, “She’s very particular, isn’t she? Reminds me of someone else.”

I punched him hard in the arm.

Wes rubbed his arm. “What was that for?”

I scowled. “You’re giving me shit.”

His eyes narrowed on me. “Which I do all the time. What’s the big deal now?”

There was something about Wes needling me with Charlotte looking on. It got to me. “It’s been a long day, and I want to go home and get some sleep.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with the woman giving us orders?”

I stiffened as we lifted the table. “Why would it?”

“I’m just a little surprised you’re letting her run the show.”

“Dad put her in charge,” I said as we walked the table to where Charlotte stood.

She gestured where to place it. When we set it down, she told us to move it a little to the right, then the left.

Wes shot me a quizzical look. “Since when does that stop you from taking over anything?”

I frowned, not wanting to talk about this in front of Charlotte.

“Everything okay?” Charlotte asked, looking from me to Wes.

I threw a thumb over my shoulder in Wes’s direction. “This one is talking too much.”

Charlotte smiled but looked uncertain. “Okay, well. Less talk and more lifting. We have more tables to move.”

On the walk back, I said, “As much as I love the craftsmanship of homemade picnic tables, they’re heavy.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Wes was quiet while we picked the next table, then lifted it simultaneously.

“Are you sure there’s nothing going on between you guys?” Wes asked.

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