Page 72 of Desired Hearts
“Not sure, but don’t be surprised if he gets in touch.”
“Thanks,” I said as a customer came up behind her. “We need to catch up. Maybe next weekend? Parker’s heading to Rochester for a building workshop.”
“Sounds great. I’ve been dying to try that new winery on the south side of the lake. Maybe make a day of it?”
“I’m on early shift next Saturday, so maybe after that?”
“Perfect.” Jules waved as she headed out. “See you later.”
One customer turned into a fairly steady stream, and before I knew it, two hours had flown by. It was too bad I wasn’t as excited about filling prescriptions as I was about painting for Cedarwood. I knew the vibe of the place and already had ideas. Of course, the owner might be going in an entirely different direction, but a few well-placed pieces could really liven up the place.
Not wanting to waste time heading home, I’d gotten ready for the festival that morning and slapped my lab coat over an outfit that would be covered anyway, winter jacket and all. Unfortunately, my replacement was more than twenty minutes late. All bundled up, I hurried to the town square where Parker was waiting.
He stood in front of the gazebo, which was decorated with blue and white lights for the festival, though it was hard to see them now. Later, at sundown, the entire square would come alive, the Festival Committee having put up almost as many lights in town as it did at the holidays.
Walking past the ice-carving demonstration, I tapped Parker on the shoulder from behind. Spinning around, he gave me a brief look before placing his gloved hands on my cheeks and kissing me, hard, on the lips.
I kissed back, not caring about the show we might be putting on.
“How was work?” he asked when we broke the kiss.
“Busy,” I said. “Thankfully. How did the donations go?”
“Great. The boxes are overflowing with coats and hats and gloves.”
“Awesome.”
Parker took my hand. “Come on,” he said. “We’re late.”
“Late for what?” I asked. As far as I knew, there weren’t any timed activities or shows or anything.
“You’ll see.”
Walking past a hot cocoa stand at the edge of the square, Parker stopped and bought two of them. Giving me one, he took my hand again. We headed a half block down, past The Coffee Cabin and onto Mechanic Street where the cars had been moved to make way for one of the most popular attractions… horse-drawn carriages.
“Sorry,” Parker said as we walked up to an older gentleman I didn’t know. He was probably from the company that arranged the rides, didn’t seem like a local. “All set.”
Helping me up to the carriage, Parker sat, put a blanket onto my lap and pulled me into him as the driver asked if we were ready.
“You pre-arranged this?”
“I did. There was a massive line earlier, but I know one of the drivers. Not him,” Parker clarified, nodding to ours. “I did some work on the other guy’s house and pulled in a favor. Apparently they’ve been so busy they’re packing them in.”
I did notice there was room for at least four more people in our carriage.
“That was incredibly thoughtful,” I said, warm and content. Snuggled into Parker’s side, hot cocoa in hand, it was also incredibly romantic.
“Glad you like it.”
We rode in companionable silence for a few blocks, spying festival activities which were centered in the town square but extending out to the side streets too. Almost every business was decorated in some way for this event.
“So how was your guys’ night?”
I hated to admit it, but part of me wondered if he’d try to connect at the end of the night. I’d been surprised not to hear from him at all. Not even a good night text, something he’d begun to do after staying over Tuesday.
“Good. Nothing special. How was your night with Mom and Dad?”
“Uneventful. My dad is having back surgery in a few weeks, so that was the main topic of conversation.”
