Page 2 of Fake It Till We Fall
“I don’t know if we’re?—”
“The new snowflake banners we ordered are in, and they need to be hung,” she said. “And most of the lights that need to be wrapped around the light poles in the plaza are still in the storage shed.”
“That’s because they’re all a tangled nightmare.” I lifted the knot of bulbs and wires in front of me. “This is just the first of many.”
“Well then, you’d better get moving,” she said briskly. “I told the committee you’d start hanging them this afternoon.”
“You did what?” I froze, mid-tug. “Why would you say that?”
“Because you’re the only one who knows how to work the lift without taking out a tree or a storefront,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I don’t think that’s true?—”
“And because people rely on you, Grayson. You know that. You’re the guy who gets things done.”
I blew out a breath. That much was true. Somewhere over the last ten years or so, I’d fallen into that role, whether I wanted it or not. And that was a toss-up some days.
I didn’t have a chance to protest, not that it would do any good, before the bell over the door jingled again, and my youngest brother, Preston, pushed inside the store. “Hey, do you still have that heavy-duty extension cord—” He stopped, taking a second to stomp the ice from his boots and brush the snow from his jacket while he looked around. “What the hell happened here?”
“Tinsel explosion.” I shrugged helplessly. “You look like you just got off the ski hill,” I said. “And that maybe you wiped out a few times.”
“Not the hill.” He laughed. “I was in the back country.”
“Of course you were.”
“The powder is fresh out there, man. You should get out?—”
“Don’t even say it.” I held up a hand to stop him before he could tempt me with some backcountry ski adventure. “As much as I’d love to join, there is literally no time.”
“Not if he’s going to get all these lights hung in time for the festival,” Tilley chimed in.
Preston looked between us and lifted the knot I was working on. “These lights? They look like?—”
“A total mess.” I cut him off.
“I was going to say something else.” Preston grinned. “But sure, let’s go with mess.”
I shot him a look. “If you’re not going to help, you can?—”
“I’m leaving.” My youngest brother held up his hands. “Just as soon as I get that cord. Don’t get your cables in a knot.” He laughed at his own joke, and I clenched my teeth to keep from saying something rude in front of Tilley.
“Well, I’d better let you get to it.” Tilley adjusted her scarf and tucked her clipboard under her arm. “The plaza isn’t going to decorate itself.”
Didn’t I know it.
She started for the door, pausing long enough to throw me a look over her shoulder. “You never know who you might run into over there, Grayson.”
I didn’t respond, but Preston caught the exchange. His mouth quirked. “She talking about who I think she’s talking about?”
“Don’t start.”
He only grinned wider and wiggled his eyebrows. “Uh-huh.”
“Preston, I’m?—”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m going.”
“That extension cord is in the back.”
