“Can’t you just…ring them yourself?”
“Apparently not.” His eyes flicked past me, avoiding mine. “She was very specific. The bell maker has to be there. Community spirit and all that.”
Something about his tone was off, like he was making this up as he went. But before I could call him on it, my stomach betrayed me with a loud growl.
His eyes snapped back, and for the first time, the corner of his mouth twitched—like he was fighting a smile. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” I admitted. “I was about to grab tacos before you showed up with your bell emergency.”
He glanced at the taco truck. The line had doubled.
“How long until the ceremony?” I asked.
“Twenty minutes, maybe twenty-five.”
I eyed the bells in his hands, then him. An idea formed. A petty, brilliant, probably terrible idea.
“Here’s the deal,” I said. “If the mayor really wants me up there, I need fuel. Real food. Not candy canes and kettle corn.”
One brow rose. “Meaning?”
“Meaning you’re going to get me two steak tacos with cheese, tomatoes, sour cream, and a soda. Now. While I deal with my booth.”
“You want me to get you tacos?”
He looked like I’d asked him to juggle flaming torches.
“That’s my price for public humiliation.” I shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”
He studied me for a long beat, then glanced at the taco line, then back. “What if the line’s too long?”
“Then you wait in it. You’re the one who needs me up there, not the other way around.”
This time, something shifted in his expression. The sharp edges softened, replaced by something almost amused.
“You drive a hard bargain.”
“I’m a businesswoman.” I gestured toward my table. “Nothing’s free.”
“Fair enough.” He hesitated. “What about the bells? I can’t lug them around for twenty minutes.”
“Leave them here.” I held out my hand. “I’ll keep them safe.”
He stared down at the bells like they were priceless artifacts.
“They won’t vanish,” I said. “And if the mayor insists, she’ll have to trust I’ll show.”
Slowly, he placed them back in my palm. And again—bam. Heat shot up my arm. But this time I was ready, and I kept my face neutral.
“Two steak tacos,” he repeated. “Cheese, tomatoes, sour cream. And a soda.”
“Don’t forget napkins,” I said. “Lots of napkins. No way I’m holding bells with greasy fingers.”
This time, he smiled. A real smile. And wow—when he smiled, his whole face lit up, his brown eyes crinkling in the corners.
“Anything else, your majesty?”
The sarcasm should have ticked me off. Instead, it made me grin. “That’s all. For now.”
