Page 88 of Old Habits

“You want to join the party planning committee?”

“Yeah.”

He snorts.

I raise a brow. “And what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing.” He fights the laugh growing in his throat. “Just hard to picture, that’s all.”

“It’s the only town committee taking on new members right now and it honestly doesn’t sound all that bad, you know?” I shrug. “Hang some balloons, cut some cake, rinse, repeat. People love parties. If I plan enough of them then, eventually, they will love me. It’s science.”

He bites his lip. “Is it, though?”

“Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. I fix cars. I’m not a scientist.”

I roll my eyes. “Anyway, they’re apparently meeting tonight at the high school to start working on the Valentine’s Day dance and I’m going to be there to begin my slow coup into the hearts and souls of the people of Clover, Kansas.”

“Okay, but…” he pushes the flier back to me, “you do know who the current head of the party planning committee is, right?”

“No. Who?”

He tilts his head, silently smirking until the answer finally lands in my brain.

“Ugh. You’re kidding,” I whine.

“Nope.”

“Sara runs the party planning committee?”

“She does.” He nods.

“Well, shit.” I stare at the flier again. “I can at least ask, right? Worst she can say is no. Right?”

His face screws up and he lays his palm on my brow. “That’s some uncharacteristic optimism, Jove. You feeling okay?”

I playfully slap his hand away. “This blow is crushing. I had a plan. Now what I am supposed to do?”

“Go ahead and ask, it’s like you said,” he says. “If she says no, I’ll talk to my mother and see if she can put a positive spin on it to Sara. She’s pretty good at that kind of thing.”

“One of these days, I’m going to reach the point when the name Jovie Ross doesn’t need a positive spin.”

“Oh, honey…” He pats my head and sighs. “You sure you don’t need to go lie down for a while?”

I glare at him and he smirks. “Ha, ha, ha.”

“You have a beautiful laugh,” he says. “Have I ever told you that?”

“Go away and take Mr. President with you.”

“Kiss me first.”

We lean over the counter and lock lips as Mr. Trin steps out of the back office.

“Myers, unless Marv wants to trade Barbies for spark plugs, you better stop bothering my employee,” he snaps.

“Yes, sir,” Will says. He lays another quick kiss on my cheek before retreating from the counter. “My place tonight?” he whispers at me.