Page 122 of Not Your Average Vixen
“My what?” she asked.
Cole pointed to his eyes. “When you got here, Birdie, Uncle Scooter was helping you get dirt or an eyelash out of your eye. Don’t you remember? Your hair was all messy, and Uncle Scooter’s pants were too tight.”
She shared another perplexed look with Soren.
“My pants fit fine, Cole,” Soren said, glancing at the pair he had on.
The child adjusted his glasses. “They looked a little small below your belly that day.”
She bit her lip to keep from laughing as Soren turned as red as Rudolph’s nose.
“I must have had something in my pocket. That’s all,” he replied, clearly going for nonchalant, but Cole’s frown said he wasn’t buying it.
“A really big banana? I didn’t see you eating a banana,” the child replied as Soren’s blush deepened.
She could watch Cole take this man to task all day.
But as much as she’d love to watch the man squirm a bit more, they were on a schedule.
She clapped her hands, taking control of this conversation on the brink of completely flying off the rails. “Cole, could you tell everyone to start heading up to the chapel. Your uncle Scooter and I need to put the croquembouche in a safe spot, and then we’ll catch the next gondola.”
“Do the pants you have on today fit, Uncle Scooter?” Cole asked, not moving on.
Now it was Soren biting back a grin. “They do now, buddy. We’ll see you up there.”
“Okay,” the boy chimed over his shoulder as he skipped out of the kitchen.
She chuckled. “There’s never a dull moment with Cole.”
“Never,” he agreed, dusting off his hands.
She set the croquembouche in the center of the worktable, then removed her apron.
“He’s great. All the Abbotts are.”
The teasing glimmer in Soren’s eyes dimmed. “Yeah, they are. They’re the best. I’ll get our jackets. It’s really starting to come down out there.”
“Sure, I’ll be right out,” she replied, pretending not to notice that the muted man had returned.
Breathe, Bridget.
The guy’s best friend was getting married. A new Abbott, well, a Dasher-Abbott would be joining the mix. That had to be what had him on edge. She’d already Psych 101-ed him on that, and by now, he had to see that Tom and Lori were not only a good match but madly in love.
Tidying up her workspace, she checked in with Delores and Tanner. The savory scent of the Cornish hens baking away in the oven combined with the aromatic cranberry stuffing—the same meal her parents had dined on thirty years ago—already had her mouth watering. The dinner was coming along nicely, and everything would be good to go once they returned from the chapel.
They were on schedule.
No lost children.
No baking catastrophes.
All was good.
But she didn’t feelall good. A shiver that had nothing to do with the dropping temperatures and thickening blanket of snow covering the mountain spider-crawled down her spine.
Stop overthinking it.
She smoothed her dress and joined Soren at the door. Robotically, he helped her with her coat.
