Well Matched (Well Met #3)(81)

Mitch hefted one of the packages like it was nothing. Figured. “See, this is why you need me.” His voice was teasing, so I tried not to make too much of that statement. He directed me to the smaller packages, and I wrangled those into the house while he unloaded the larger ones. Soon my kitchen was full of cabinet doors, stacked along the wall like firewood.

“Not bad.” But I was breathing hard; I hadn’t expected a workout this soon after work.

“Not bad at all,” he agreed. “We can get these changed out pretty quick. One more weekend of Faire, but then after that? Make a weekend out of it?”

I shook my head. “We’ll be in full-on college prep mode for the next couple weeks after that.”

“Ahhhh, right. Is she excited?”

“That’s an understatement.”

“And how about you, Mama? Are you excited?” But he seemed to know the answer to that, wrapping an arm around me and kissing my temple before I could formulate an answer.

“Not sure if ‘excited’ is the word.” I accepted his embrace, even leaned into it as I slipped an arm around his back. “Is there a word for full of dread yet proud yet worried, and feeling like I won’t get a good night’s sleep till I see her again at Thanksgiving?”

“Probably one of those really long German words.” He released me to open the fridge in the kitchen while my phone buzzed on the kitchen island. “Aw, man! Am I out of beer?”

“Hey, you know the rules,” I said lightly as I scooped up my phone. “BYOB around here.”

“Fine,” he sighed elaborately, grabbing a soda instead and nudging the door shut. He reached for his phone in his back pocket, and we both looked at the text we’d simultaneously received from Emily.

Beer and pizza at Jackson’s in an hour? Let’s give Stacey and Daniel a send-off before they go!

“Is Stacey leaving already?” I glanced up at Mitch, who shook his head in confusion.

“She shouldn’t be. One more weekend of Faire and all.” He shrugged. “But it’ll be a busy weekend, and then they’re off to the next festival, right? Getting the goodbyes out of the way early, maybe.”

I considered that. “Okay, then. What do you think? Want to go?”

“Yeah,” he said. “May as well.” He looked down at the soda in his hand. “At least they have beer at Jackson’s.”

I bumped his arm with my shoulder and he chuckled in response. We bent over our phones, and while I sent a quick text to Caitlin at the bookstore (You okay if I go out tonight? No wild parties while I’m gone), Mitch’s response to the group text came through. We’re in. See you in a bit. A chill prickled my skin.

“We?” I looked up at Mitch with alarmed eyes. It felt like he’d announced something without checking with me first.

“Yeah. Wait, you said you were going, right?”

“I did.” But I looked back down at my phone, where the words “We’re in” seemed to be blinking at me in red.

Beside me, Mitch didn’t notice my discomfort. “You want me to drive?”

“No,” I said quickly. His text was bad enough: answering for both of us like we were a couple. If we rode over together that would pretty much seal the deal in a town like this. “No,” I said again. “I haven’t heard back from Cait yet. I’ll drive myself over in case she needs me.”

He scoffed. “She’s eighteen and it’s Friday night. I can guarantee that she doesn’t need you.”

“Almost eighteen.” I gave him a thin smile. “Humor me, okay?” I needed some distance while I got myself together. I needed to keep my cool and not hang all over him at Jackson’s like . . . like a girlfriend or something. In my secret heart I hoped we were heading in that direction, but it was all still too new. He hadn’t made any real declaration, and neither had I. Those words were impossible to take back once they were said. I wasn’t ready to make that leap, and I certainly wasn’t ready to take this public. Not even to the people I felt closest to. No matter how natural it felt to have his arm around me, his lips in my hair.

No, I needed to get a grip. On myself. Not on Mitch.





Twenty-One





On nights that I went to Jackson’s with my sister we usually grabbed a booth in the back, so we could talk quietly while the bad karaoke happened toward the front. But there were six of us tonight, and with Mitch’s huge shoulders and Daniel’s long legs, there was no way we’d all fit in a booth. By the time I got there Simon and Daniel had pushed two tables together, and I helped Emily grab the chairs to put around them. Mitch and Stacey came back from where they had gone to get menus, as though we all didn’t have it memorized. After some good-natured fighting over pizza toppings (Stacey and Emily were pro-pineapple, Mitch and I were solidly against, while Daniel and Simon wisely stayed neutral), we placed our orders for a couple pizzas, far too many mozzarella sticks, and a round of drinks.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving already,” Emily said, grabbing Stacey in a one-armed side-hug. “Didn’t you just get here?”

“Sure feels like it,” she said. “But we’re not going anywhere, you know.”

“You’re not?” I asked. “This is the last weekend of the Faire, right? Isn’t Maryland Ren Fest next, down by the coast?”