I suddenly understood the meaning of “swoon.” Both my mind and my heart fluttered uncontrollably, threatening to give out from the thrill of being attended to like this, even if he was just pretending.
Thank you, I mouthed as he settled in beside me and closed the passenger side door.
“You need me to take you all the way to Dr. Foss’s house?” Siobhan asks when we reach the inn.
“The Right Somebody to Love” abruptly cuts off as I do the never-before-attempted math of figuring out how to make this match between Siobhan and Declan happen.
Having Siobhan drop me off at the doctor’s office is a potentially very good idea. If Declan and his mother are still there, then maybe they could meet for lunch there. Meet for lunch is a euphemism for ‘meet cute’ and ‘fall in love’ that my cousin Krista used to employ before her matchmaking powers changed and lunch became dinner.
But it’s a little early for lunch. And how about if Declan’s mom is crying or something? Now that I think of it, pretending to have a sprained ankle was probably a terrible idea. Oh, Santa, why did I think I could be Krista, even for one day? Stay in your lane, Kristal, stay in your lane.
“Here is fine,” Hayato assures her before I can decide what to do. “We will find some ice to put on her ankle.”
Okay, so the doctor’s office plan is a bust. And, oh no, the old shuttle van Declan and Maeve drove off in this morning is nowhere to be seen I notice as Siobhan pulls into the inn’s long driveway.
We stop right before the inn’s portico, which starts a good three meters before the lobby doors, but hangs too low for Siobhan’s truck to fit underneath. “This is as far as I can take you,” she tells us.
I try not to show I’m panicking when Hayato gets out while Siobhan remains in the driver’s seat, her hands gripping the wheel like she plans to speed off as soon as I’m out of her truck.
“The front door’s too far to hop,” I say. The word’s come out sounding weird and strained because I have to string together a technical truth as I speak. “I’m afraid I’ll slip and take you down with me.”
“I can carry you on my back,” he offers.
And I swoon all over again because J-Drama hero much? But then I remember the mission and insist, “No, no, I’m way too heavy. Siobhan, do you mind helping me get inside?”
Siobhan looks at the front lobby door, then back at me. I can almost see the tug of war going on inside her brain. “Dec’s not in there, right?”
“No, he’s still at the doctor’s office with his mother,” I answer, unable to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
“Okay, let’s make it quick,” she says. “Snow’s melting, so I’ll have a lot to do today.”
I inwardly cheer but act cool when she puts the truck in park and comes around to my side of the car.
I also limp as slowly as I possibly can as she and Hayato help me inside. Please, please, please let Declan get back before she leaves, I silently beg Santa.
Rodge comes jogging out to meet us as soon as he sees us approaching through the lobby doors, his face already set to grouchy.
“Too much trouble for you to even put on some decent clothes before leaving the house, I see,” he says, scanning Siobhan up and down.
Then his grumpy eyes land on me. “And what the hell happened to you?”
“She slipped on the road you were supposed to have salted, that’s what happened, old man,” Siobhan answers.
“I salted it alright,” Rodge assures her. Then he frowns at me. “Well, that’s a left coaster for ya. Can’t even walk on salted snow without slipping and sliding. Maybe if your moon boots weren’t so shiny…”
“You best hope she doesn’t up and decide to sue,” Siobhan warns. “That salt job of yours didn’t even hold an hour.”
I look between them like I’m at a tennis match. With their thick Maine accents, it’s like listening to a Stephen King novel come to life, except they’re arguing over salt, not murder. But main point: yay! Another delay. I send up a silent, Thanks, Santa!
“If she does, it serves me right for agreeing to help Maeve with her harebrained scheme to reunite you and Declan.”
“Yeah, that’s one thing we can agree on,” Siobhan says, her face screwing up with disgust.
“I wouldn’t call it harebrained,” I murmur, coming to Maeve’s defense…and looking over my shoulder to see if Declan is anywhere close. Delay, delay, delay….
“Well, I would,” Rodge grouses. “Like a Marine’s going to want to have anything to do with his hag of an ex now that he’s living an international life filled with wealth and glamour.”