Page 16 of The Dangers of Daydreaming

“You’ll have to, I need you to drop me off on the way back to the inn.”

He glanced at his watch. “I’ll go inside with you, too.”

I rolled my eyes, but didn’t argue.

He stood.

“In other, more exciting news, it’s time to head to the potato museum.” He held out a hand to me, his smile stretching wide.

“How long do we anticipate being at this riveting museum?” I took his hand, his fingers tightening around mine as he pulled me up effortlessly.

“I havethree hours booked for us, but if you need longer, we can make that work.”

“Bummer, I was really hoping for a full day.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, tugging me toward the van, “I’ll bring you back.”

He dropped my hand then, and despite the warmth of the day, it felt cold. I shook it out a bit and stuck it into my shorts’ pocket. “I’ll send you the list of places I need to see.”

“I can just let you know which Anne-related trips we’re going on.”

I nodded. “Okay, go ahead.”

His eyes cut to mine, and he shrugged. “I don’t have them memorized.”

“None of them? Do you not know where you’re going tomorrow?”

“I will by tomorrow.”

“But it’s your job to have the plan.”

“No, it’s travel agencies like yours that have the plan, I just execute.” He waved at a couple in the Hastings’ group, motioning them to the van.

“It would drive me crazy not to know what came next.”

“It would drive me crazy always thinking about tomorrow instead of today. Would take all the fun out of visiting the potatoes today if I was thinking about the turnips of tomorrow.”

“Please tell me there’s not a turnip museum too.”

He lifted his shoulders. “Guess I’ll know when I check tomorrow’s itinerary.”

I shook my head, trying to hold back a smile. With the annoyance slipping away, I couldn’t help but find him a little entertaining. A little. “Well, I need a plan so I can schedule my extra tours around whichever ones you’re going on.”

“I’ll take you on the ones we aren’t already going on.”

This wasgetting exasperating—we were talking in circles. “One, I’m getting a rental car, and two, you won’t know which tours I need to add on if you don’t tell me which we’re going on.”

We’d reached the van, and he stopped, eyeing me. “I’ll check them tonight. Send me your list… and I’ll send mine.” He opened the passenger door for me, but his face was twisted in disgust as if the idea of a list was truly disdainful.

I smiled up at him, pumping it with sugar. “Thank you,” I sang as I slid in.

And I swear he smiled to himself as he closed the door, patted it, and left to get the rest of the group.

There was one difference between preteen Finn and adult Finn. Somehow, at his current age, he did a really great job of helping me forget that I was annoyed with him.

Chapter 6

We Call That a Crush

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