Page 58 of The Snuggle is Real
That moment in Mason’s guest room had gotten a little…weird.
We’d stood too close. Teased too much. Being with Mason wasn’t like hanging out with other guys. It was confusing.
I answered my phone, glad for the interruption. “Hey, Logan.”
“Hey, Griff asked me to give you a call. They’re looking for an extra set of hands over at the Festival Hall.”
“Really?” My heart skipped. “Thanks, man.”
“No problem. They need you to tear down all the vendor booths and help the volunteers load up. The whole place has to be converted for the tree festival. There was a wiring issue over in Griff’s office, and their regular guy is busy with that right now, so…”
“Oh.Oh.They need me now?”
“Ideally. It doesn’t have to all be finished tonight, but the festival runs on a tight schedule. They don’t want to get behind. It’d be like a set of dominoes falling, you know?”
“Right, uh…”
I glanced over at Charlie, hesitating.
Dottie patted my thigh. “We’re just fine for a while if you need to go work. Charlie, you don’t mind hanging out with Grandma Dottie, do you?”
“We have to finish the tree,” Charlie said.
“That’s right.” Dottie beamed. “And afterward, we’ll stuff ourselves with some of that peanut brittle my friend Stella brought me. How’s that sound?”
Charlie sought out my eyes. “I’m not supposed to ruin my dinner. Right, Ford?”
“That’s right. Maybe keep it to a few treats and I’ll be home soon.”
“Okay!” Charlie turned to Dottie. “What ornament should I hang up next?”
Dottie selected a little sparkly star for her to hang. I lifted the phone back to my ear, relief sweeping through me.
If Charlie had been nervous about staying here, I’d have passed on the job, but it would have been a lost opportunity. This could be my chance to impress Griff and get more work in the future.
Even if old Mr. Jones didn’t retire, he was no spring chicken. He might need an assist now and then.
“I’ll be there ASAP, Logan. Can you let Griff know?”
“Sure will,” Logan said. “Thanks, man.”
“No, thank you. I owe you one.”
“I remember what it was like, trolling for work,” Logan said. “I also remember what it was like when I realized I didn’t want to chase seasonal jobs from one place to another anymore. I got your back.”
It took about ten minutes to say my goodbyes, kiss Charlie on the head, and drive my old truck over to the Festival Museum where the Arts and Crafts Fair ran.
When I entered, the vendors were in a state of tear-down chaos.
About half the booths were empty, the vendors having cleared out. Others were in the process of packing plastic totes with their candles, wreaths, ornaments, and soaps. A few hold-outs hadn’t touched their displays, hoping to catch the very last few customers wandering the fair.
Mr. Jones came my way. “You’re my guy?”
“I’m your guy.”
“Good. Grab a dolly and help the vendors get their inventory out of here. The sooner it’s cleared out, the easier it’ll be to take down the large displays.”
“Okay, will do.”
