Page 40 of Every Little Kiss
“And what will that cost me?” she asked, but instead of looking suspicious, she looked genuinely interested.
“This one’s on the house.” Ford grinned and picked up a stack of kid-friendly craft ideas to flip through them. “There must be five dozen ideas here.”
“And that’s just the Stroller Patrol and Living for Love. I haven’t talked to the senior center, the Wag and Waddle, or any of the other local clubs.” Liv opened the second file and handed Ford a smaller, more realistic stack. They were permit forms, already completed and waiting for a signature. “Here are the top five ideas and the list of local businesses who have agreed to donate the supplies.”
He glanced at the firms and gave a low whistle. “When were you appointed?”
“Wednesday.”
Impressive. In two days, she’d managed to organize a team, secure donors, and complete the majority of the paperwork for the county. Some of his search teams in Reno weren’t this prepared.
“But the new paperwork needs to be signed and in to the county by Tuesday morning. Which means I need to get someone from this department to sign off on it before the city will consider granting me the permit.”
She sat back and quietly encouraged him to read the forms. Her eyes following his every move and her teeth worrying that lip again made concentrating on anything else damn hard. But he warriored on.
He turned to the second page and met her gaze. “A bounce-house lagoon and kid-zone island?”
“Yeah, the Stroller Patrol didn’t have to worry about gaining departmental approval.” She snatched the packet back and handed him a new one. “These are the ones I thought would get kids excited, make parents feel comfortable, and be a slam dunk for your department to approve.”
She leaned in to point to the first one, and it took everything he had to keep his gaze on her face, because the V-neckline of her dress puckered, giving him a lovely peek of silky skin and the scalloped edge of what he knew was the black lace from earlier.
“This one is simple,” she continued. “It’s just a giant tent at the end of Lake Street for a make-your-own Wild West badge for the little ones. I already have the team to run it, and Mavis will donate the fabric. I just need a signature.”
“Easy.” He scribbled his John Hancock and flipped to the next page. “A s’mores bar?” He looked up at her through his brows. “A raging fire on the middle of the beach is your idea of a permitting slam dunk?”
“A controlled fire on a safe section of the beach, and yes, I thought it would be a fun nighttime thing for the whole family,” she explained, her face so animated he couldn’t look away. “Ned from Neddy’s Lumber and Garden Gnomes offered to donate the wood, and Bunny Slope Supermarket will donate the rest. All I have to do is find the right location.”
“And get safety-first Harris to agree to an event that includes giving fire and sticks to a sugared-up pack of preschoolers.” He set the papers down. “He’d never sign off on this, and he’d have my ass if I did.”
She crossed her arms a bit smugly and said, “Then why did he suggest it?”
“Harris suggested a bonfire and s’mores bar?”
“Adult s’mores bar, but I went with the family-friendly experience,” she explained, and Ford corrected his earlier assessment. She wasn’t impressive. She was a force.
Nurse Cupcake might be a tiny thing, but she had a will big enough to save the world and enough soft curves to make things interesting.
“Well then, we’ll make sure Harris is listed as the officer in charge,” Ford said, scribbling his good buddy’s name down in the respective box. “What’s next?”
“Just wait,” she said, flipping the page, the spark in her eyes telling him this was the one she’d come up with. The one that had her smile on full tilt.
She sat back, patiently waiting for him to read the outline. He loved how her eyes followed his every move, proving that her earlier huff was for show, because she was as excited as a kid on Halloween.
Ford got to the grand finale and looked up. “You want to do a fireworks show? You do know that we’re in fire country, right?”
“Keep reading—there’s more.” Her elegant finger pointed to the schedule of events that was long enough to fill a state fair.
He closed the packet and looked her in the eye. “What’s your goal here?”
“A perfect old-fashioned carnival to honor the founders of Sequoia Lake, with some added modern pizzazz for the newer generations. A perfect old-meets-new day of fun for the entire family,” she said, as if she had this in the bag.
It was complete bullshit, of course, which made him even more eager to help. Her voice was all sweet enthusiasm and big dreams, but her uncertainty was right there beneath the surface, if one knew what to look for.
And when it came to this woman, Ford knew what to look for, and right now she was too busy troubleshooting to have any kind of fun.
“Been rehearsing that long?” he mused.
She sighed. “It sounded good when I pitched it in the mirror today. Better than the whole ‘I need to prove to my boss that I can be a company girl.’ To do that, I need to prove I’m a community girl and kick the Carson City carnival’s butt with the best Wagon Days since its inception.”
