to keep this all very businesslike, and he found it funny. Lovely. “I don’t think the accounting has ever been quite so exact,” he finally said.
“Well, I’m not going to be the one responsible for things not balancing out. This checkbook is a mess, by the way. I had to call the bank to get the account balance, and since I’m not on the account—”
Tate finally lost the fight and laughed at her. “Are you a CPA at heart?”
“I run a business—as do you, I might add. You should know better. Why haven’t you made Mrs. K get all this organized?”
He snorted. “First of all, ‘making’ Mrs. K do anything is a laughable notion. And secondly, you forget that we trust people around here.”
“That’s a good way for money to go missing. Not that I’m accusing Mrs. K of anything shady,” she quickly added. That was gossip she didn’t want to start.
“Didn’t think you were,” he assured her, still obviously finding this amusing.
“So that’s the table and tent rental invoice, and the others are supplies and such . . .” She watched, shocked, as Tate barely glanced over her carefully created paperwork before signing the checks with an illegible scrawl. She was rather surprised the checking account wasn’t in worse shape. “Take all the time you need to look that over. Really, I don’t mind.” She was being snarky, but she couldn’t help it.
“I trust you,” Tate said with a smirk.
She didn’t know whether she should be flattered or annoyed at this point. She was quite proud of her organizational work on this, and he found it funny? So much for Sam’s insistence he was some kind of control freak.
“And there’s my lunch. Perfect timing.” He pushed the papers back to her and smiled his thanks at the teenager who’d brought his food.
She was about to offer to walk him through the paperwork anyway, but then she caught sight of his lunch. “A plain hot dog?” she asked. It looked so naked and strange without all the toppings. Her own gluttony was obvious by the trash next to her elbow, and she actually felt a little ashamed. “I didn’t know they even served them like that.”
“Only to special people.”
“Oh, you’re special, all right,” she muttered.
Tate looked around, then leaned forward. “Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered conspiratorially, “but I’ve never really cared for the chili here.”
“Isn’t that illegal?” she whispered back.
“No. Merely blasphemous.”
That made her laugh. “To say the least. And you call yourself a pillar of the community.”
He merely shrugged and took a big bite of the hot dog. Molly was now in a bit of a predicament. She was just fine as long as they had the business of the Children’s Fair to discuss, but with that done, she lacked a nice, neutral topic of discussion to bring up, and she was afraid her awkwardness would show and raise questions. It would be rude to get up and leave Tate to eat his lunch alone, even though they hadn’t planned to “do” lunch. The Frosty Freeze was just a convenient place for them to meet so that Tate could sign the checks. She’d come early and eaten already, but it might be wrong to leave now. He had given up whatever other lunch plans he had in order to be here.
She could claim a pressing need to leave, but it felt wrong to lie like that for no good reason.
And therein lay the problem: she had reasons, just not good ones. She tried to look busy, flipping throughthe checkbook and the papers as if looking for something specific as she hoped a good topic of conversation would present itself, but she kept noticing things, like the way his hair curled just the tiniest bit at the ends or how the tendons in his hands flexed into relief as he picked up his cup.
Good Lord. She’d known Tate for over two years and had never noticed any of this before. At least Tate seemed fine and unbothered. While that was a good thing, she reminded herself, it still made her feel worse because a
“Well, I’m not going to be the one responsible for things not balancing out. This checkbook is a mess, by the way. I had to call the bank to get the account balance, and since I’m not on the account—”
Tate finally lost the fight and laughed at her. “Are you a CPA at heart?”
“I run a business—as do you, I might add. You should know better. Why haven’t you made Mrs. K get all this organized?”
He snorted. “First of all, ‘making’ Mrs. K do anything is a laughable notion. And secondly, you forget that we trust people around here.”
“That’s a good way for money to go missing. Not that I’m accusing Mrs. K of anything shady,” she quickly added. That was gossip she didn’t want to start.
“Didn’t think you were,” he assured her, still obviously finding this amusing.
“So that’s the table and tent rental invoice, and the others are supplies and such . . .” She watched, shocked, as Tate barely glanced over her carefully created paperwork before signing the checks with an illegible scrawl. She was rather surprised the checking account wasn’t in worse shape. “Take all the time you need to look that over. Really, I don’t mind.” She was being snarky, but she couldn’t help it.
“I trust you,” Tate said with a smirk.
She didn’t know whether she should be flattered or annoyed at this point. She was quite proud of her organizational work on this, and he found it funny? So much for Sam’s insistence he was some kind of control freak.
“And there’s my lunch. Perfect timing.” He pushed the papers back to her and smiled his thanks at the teenager who’d brought his food.
She was about to offer to walk him through the paperwork anyway, but then she caught sight of his lunch. “A plain hot dog?” she asked. It looked so naked and strange without all the toppings. Her own gluttony was obvious by the trash next to her elbow, and she actually felt a little ashamed. “I didn’t know they even served them like that.”
“Only to special people.”
“Oh, you’re special, all right,” she muttered.
Tate looked around, then leaned forward. “Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered conspiratorially, “but I’ve never really cared for the chili here.”
“Isn’t that illegal?” she whispered back.
“No. Merely blasphemous.”
That made her laugh. “To say the least. And you call yourself a pillar of the community.”
He merely shrugged and took a big bite of the hot dog. Molly was now in a bit of a predicament. She was just fine as long as they had the business of the Children’s Fair to discuss, but with that done, she lacked a nice, neutral topic of discussion to bring up, and she was afraid her awkwardness would show and raise questions. It would be rude to get up and leave Tate to eat his lunch alone, even though they hadn’t planned to “do” lunch. The Frosty Freeze was just a convenient place for them to meet so that Tate could sign the checks. She’d come early and eaten already, but it might be wrong to leave now. He had given up whatever other lunch plans he had in order to be here.
She could claim a pressing need to leave, but it felt wrong to lie like that for no good reason.
And therein lay the problem: she had reasons, just not good ones. She tried to look busy, flipping throughthe checkbook and the papers as if looking for something specific as she hoped a good topic of conversation would present itself, but she kept noticing things, like the way his hair curled just the tiniest bit at the ends or how the tendons in his hands flexed into relief as he picked up his cup.
Good Lord. She’d known Tate for over two years and had never noticed any of this before. At least Tate seemed fine and unbothered. While that was a good thing, she reminded herself, it still made her feel worse because a
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