Page 37 of Mistlefoe
“Uhh, how many do we need?”
After pausing to count with her gloved fingers, she says, “At least six but maybe more. It depends on how many food and beverage stations we need.”
“And they’d be pretty big too, so I’m not sure how long each would take to make.”
“Yeah, pretty big.” But she says this while looking out of the window. “Tell you what, divide and conquer. I’ll look for the DJ and you take care of the booths.”
“Why do I feel like I got the short end of the stick?”
Sierra sighs. “Fine, whoever finishes first can help the otherone. Besides, we’ll both have to put equal elbow grease into the props.”
“Are we, uh, still working on those at my place?”
Silence.
Great job, sucker, you just made it real awkward.
I’m about to repeat Richard’s words that we have to keep everything a surprise but remix them with the new tune of and-there’s-no-mistletoe-in-my-cottage-so-no-shenanigans-will-happen, which I’msureis going to reassure her and not make this silence heavier at all.
“Yep.” Sierra pops the p extra hard. “No way we’re doing this at my parents’s.” I feel her laser beams turn to me.
“That’s okay, we definitely don’t want to inconvenience them.”
“How come you’re not weirded out that I still live with my parents like everybody else?”
I shrug. “I moved back in with Gramps right after the accident and only bought my property after I started working atSPORTY. Everybody has their circumstances.”
“It’s a culture thing. My parents will only let me leave the house when I’m happily married to someone they approve of.” She chuckles under her breath. “Joke’s on them, I don’t have enough money to rent out on my own either.”
“Eh, being on your own isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.” And since that makes me sound a tad too pitiful, I add, “You have to clean and cook all by yourself, and even have to chop your own wood, you know?”
“Oh, I’ve already been doing that since I was a kid, both of my parents work like horses. It’s why that promotion would really make a difference for me… I’d go from doing chores in one house for three people, to one apartment for one.”
We’re pulling intoSPORTY’sparking lot and I wait until I park the truck at an available spot before opening my mouth. “Yeah, sorry. I’m not giving up on the promotion. I have my own plans for the extra pay.”
She lets out that throaty laugh of hers. “Fine, I thought I’d at least try.”
I turn off the car and welcome the freezing cold air outside, inhaling it into my lungs. It still doesn’t smell like ice, though, so we’ll have to wait some more for the first snow.
Sierra’s already walking ahead of me through the parking lot and I catch up quickly with my longer strides. “So…” I trail off for a moment. “Are we starting this weekend, then?”
“We should.” Sierra nods. “Which means we have to get the equipment from Camila Puig ASAP.”
We both cringe.
Listen, I’m all for powerful women. Heaven knows how attracted I am to the one walking beside me in this frozen parking lot. However, Camila is a step over that. She’s fear in stilettos—as in she induces fear and could stab you with her stilettos for saying the wrong thing in her presence. I have no doubt that she’ll be CEO in a couple of years, and makeSPORTYthe top athletic brand in the whole galaxy in just as long.
My plan of a long and happy career is to not incur her wrath.
“Tag, you’re it,” I say.
“No way. We’re both doing that one toge—” But she finishes the word in a yelp.
My body reacts before I even realize what’s happening. Or I guess I saw the signs during the walk and my amygdala’s taking care of the rest.
I pivot on my heels and stretch out my arm. Sierra lands on it instead of the hard asphalt, as she would have if she’d been all alone when she slipped. I wrap my other arm around her to fully stop her momentum. Her face’s scrunched up, waiting fora painful impact and when it doesn’t come, she cracks one eye open to find my face right above hers.
“You okay?” I ask.
