Page 37 of The Dangers of Daydreaming (Love Connections #2)

Running Out of Time

Finn

I adjusted the strap of the duffle bag that was digging into my sore shoulder.

I’d done something to that entire half of my body by sleeping in the recliner.

The stress of the day had carried through the night, and every inch of me had sighed in relief to wake and know Pops had made it through the night.

With no change on the horizon, Gram encouraged me to get home and shower.

To maybe even run the afternoon tour group if I was up for it.

I think she thought I could use the distraction, and I could, but I was no longer looking for ways to suppress my concerns or feelings.

Yesterday had shown me in stark, painful detail that no matter how few plans I made, no matter how much I lived in the moment, no matter how much I distracted myself from things I didn’t like, life’s plans had a way of making themselves known.

And I’d made it through intact, despite the knot still in my stomach. Now it was time to act like a grown-up, face the future, and stop worrying about myself so much.

So, I was standing out on the curb, waiting for Lucy to pick me up.

Even through all of this, my heart still beat double at the thought of spending time with her.

But in the spirit of putting others first, I needed to figure out what she needed from me.

Help getting her job? Leave her alone? Attempt some sort of long-distance dating when she went back to the States?

I wanted the last. I really, freaking wanted the last. But I would do what she needed.

At the sight of her rental car pulling into the parking lot, I lifted a hand to flag Lucy down.

“How are you?” she asked once we were driving. She didn’t ask for an update on Pops, I had texted her one that morning already.

“Better.”

She shot a quick smile my way. “I’m glad. Does your grandma need anything?”

I shook my head. “She has some friends from the neighborhood coming to sit with her today. She asked me to handle things at the B&B, so you’ll get me instead of Ishmael today on the tour. I hope that’s okay,” I said in an attempt at lightheartedness.

“I don’t know if I can come today. My flight got changed.” She looked over at me, and I noticed for the first time the tightness around her mouth and eyes. “I… leave tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow,” I repeated.

She nodded, swallowing before she said in a rush, “I don’t want to. I want to stay, and I want to help you, but I don’t have much of a choice—my company made the change.”

“Don’t worry about me,” I said, though I was currently trying to find my mental footing with this news. “We’ve always known you were only here for a while. Does this put extra stress on your timeline? Are you ready to present your tour?”

“We don’t need to talk about that right now. It seems pretty inconsequential in light of everything.”

“My hard stuff doesn’t negate yours. Besides, I want to know how things are going for you—how are you feeling about the presentation?”

She sighed but answered, glancing out the window as she changed lanes. “I’m mostly ready. I’ve got the tour all figured out and most of the presentation as well. But I feel like I’m missing something. I’m worried it’s not enough.”

“I’ll help you tonight. Maybe going through it all will help?”

“You don’t need to help me. You have enough going on.”

“I want to help you. Plus, if my grandpa knew that I wasted my last night with you, he’d hit me upside the head.”

Her lips lifted in a halfhearted smile. “Is he known to be a violent man?”

“Nope. That’s how you know how serious this is.”

She let out a light chuckle. “Okay, if you’re sure, I would appreciate the help. I was thinking I might need to FaceTime one of my cousins and talk it through, but you would be even better.”

I reached over and grabbed her hand almost without thinking. I was just grateful that what she needed in that moment was my help.

Gram: No change, but that’s not a bad thing. The infection is responding well to antibiotics. The doctors think his brain just needs a rest. I will keep you updated.

I tucked my phone into my pocket and pushed into the B&B looking for Lucy. The Hastings family was playing a game of what appeared to be charades in the main area. Lily caught my eye and pointed upstairs. I nodded my thanks. I felt her gaze on me as I made for the stairs.

“Come in,” Lucy called when I knocked. I pulled the door open and took in the room.

She had stacks of clothes on the bed, and her bag was open on the top of the dresser.

My chest squeezed uncomfortably at the sight of her preparing to leave in less than twenty-four hours.

I felt a bit like I was being waterboarded with feelings lately—everything with my grandpa was hard enough, but add to it the situation with Lucy, and I was about ready to give up the ghost.

But I wasn’t going to.

“Hey,” she said, turning to me while folding a shirt. She tossed it into the bag and looked around, grabbing her laptop. “Any update on your grandpa?”

“No, but Gram reminded me that’s not a bad thing.”

She nodded, her expression pensive. “You sure you’re up to helping me?”

“Honestly, it sounds pretty amazing.”

She lifted a brow. “Oh yes, helping someone with work that isn’t your own sounds like the best way to spend a random Wednesday night.”

I shook my head in amusement. “No, Lucy,” I said, reaching for her laptop and holding it while she gathered whatever else she needed.

“I mean spending the evening with you sounds amazing.” And not even as a distraction.

I cringed to think how often I’d used her as one in that first week, simply because I couldn’t face everything going on with my grandparents. She was so much more than that.

She froze for a moment before smoothly getting back to grabbing papers from her side table. Her eyes lifted to meet mine from the other end of the bed. There was a question there. But then she blinked, and it was gone.

“It will be easier to work at a table,” she said. “Do you mind if we go downstairs?”

“That’s fine, but the Hastings are playing charades. Want to go over to my place?”

Again, there was the briefest of pauses before she nodded. “That sounds great, thanks.”

I followed her down the stairs and out the door, then walked side by side with her across the gravel drive. She had her folders and papers held to her chest so I couldn’t hold her hand. Had she done that on purpose? Was she putting distance between us in preparation for her leaving?

When we reached my house, I gestured her inside.

“You don’t lock your door?”

“Not when I’m right across the parking lot,” I said, chuckling.

She walked in, eyes immediately skimming the entire space.

There wasn’t much to see: a little kitchen tucked into the corner with wood cabinets, dark counters, and a peninsula, a TV too big for the space, a leather sectional, a couple of bookshelves, and a bar-height table for four.

That’s where I headed with her laptop, setting it down on top, then making for the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”

“Water would be great.”

I grabbed a water bottle for her and a couple sodas as well, setting them on the table as she spread her things out.

“Okay, so what are you worried about?” I asked.

She bit her lip and shifted her feet. “I wondered if I could show you a different presentation first.”

My mouth turned down. “Sure. I’m here to help.”

Pushing aside a few papers, she grabbed one near the bottom of the pile, then she got something set up on her computer and turned it around to me, a PowerPoint presentation open.

“I want to pitch this year’s Barnside Pick n’ Picnic.”

My startled eyes met hers.

“I looked up what you guys usually call it—I figure for marketing it’s best to keep the same name, and this one is so cute.

Anyways. My pitch.” She gave a sharp dip of her head, and immediately, I saw her transform before my eyes.

She brushed her long hair back into a bun, straightened her shoulders, and held her papers in a relaxed hand as she launched into her plan.

“I propose a week-long event, but with emphasis on the weekend. I believe this will give ample opportunity for guests.” She leaned forward, clicking the arrow on her laptop, which moved to the next slide with dates and a schedule.

“The U-pick will be open all week long. Anyone can come by, rent a basket, pay the entry fee, and pick, but I think we should have evening events as well, to draw people in. Nothing fancy—” She clicked the arrow again.

“I’m thinking karaoke night, yard games, maybe even a treasure hunt through the orchards.

” Another click. “On the weekend, I want to increase the fun a little. I think we could get local shops to put up some stands—kind of like a farmers market. There would be a small entry fee, but nothing exorbitant. I would also like to connect with businesses to put together a silent auction. The goal is to get your trees completely bare by the end of the week, but if we haven’t…

I talked to a few school groups this morning who would be interested in donating their time to help.

And, if your family wasn’t against it, we could donate those final proceeds to the hospital your grandpa is in. ”

I hadn’t even had a chance to sit down. A cold soda was slowly numbing my hand, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the laptop.

“I know. I know it’s a lot, and we can totally scale back if you want.

And… and if you hate it completely, that’s fine too.

But if you like it, I want to plan it. All of it—I want to handle the whole thing, and I think I could, even from Utah.

I think we could easily get it set up for early next month—we just want to give ourselves enough time to market and the businesses enough time to plan booths… ” She trailed off, staring at me.

“You remembered,” was all my brain managed to produce.

She nodded, still watching me.

“This is amazing.”

“You think? You don’t hate it?”

I was shaking my head. Slowly at first. “Not at all. Lucy, this is incredible. It would be fantastic for the inn and the farm but I also think it would be the perfect send-off for my grandparents and their plans to sell.”

Her gaze locked on mine, and silent communication passed between us. Yes, I was on board with the selling, but no, I wasn’t really ready to talk about it yet.

“Okay. Okay, if you’re sure, I’m going to nail down the schedule. I don’t want to bug your grandma with this, but I don’t want to overstep either.”

I waved her concerns aside. “Let’s not tell her. She’ll love the idea, but let's keep it a surprise.”

“Sounds good.” She flipped her paper over and produced a pen that I’m pretty sure she’d tucked into her bun at some point and made a few notes on the back.

“Once you have a tentative schedule, send it to me and I can reach out to the businesses about the silent auction. I have connections that I think might help.”

“Perfect, I’ll do that.” She was scribbling away.

“And Lucy?”

“Hmm?” She tucked the pen between her teeth and skimmed over her notes.

“I don’t want this to interfere with your promotion. Let’s get all of that nailed down, too.”

She grabbed the pen and nodded. “Yes. Okay, good point. But this is a priority too. I need you to know that.”

I took the pen from one hand and the paper from another and set them on the table, cradling her face between my hands. “I know it is. Thank you, Luce. This is all… It’s incredible, and I know I couldn’t pull it off without you.”

She beamed up at me, her hands still raised a bit into the air where I’d removed what she was holding. I couldn’t help it, I pressed a kiss to her smiling lips, restraining my hands from sliding around to the back of her neck and deepening it.

I was sup posed to be following her lead, doing what she needed, not what I wanted. But I was still a man, and how could I not kiss her after everything she’d just done?

Her eyes were a little glazed when I forced myself to step back again, and she cleared her throat.

Pink touched her cheeks. I almost kissed each one of them, but backtracked to my seat again.

If I were to keep kissing her, it would be hard to stop.

And then it would be hard to keep my newfound pledge to be less selfish.