Page 41 of The Grump I Married
His expression shifted, his brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to say more. But I cleared my throat, cutting him off.
“Anyway, just doing my job.” A shiver flickered up my spine, and I fought it off. This was all for appearances, I reminded myself. It wasn’t real.
“Welcome, everyone!” Jo called, waving the committee members into the rows of foldable seats jammed into the center of the space. Some of them hurried onto the stage, settling in next to us. Isla plopped herself down on my right.
“C’mon in,” Jo continued. “Don’t be shy. Get right up close. I’d like to thank everyone for showing up on time.” She pointedly glared at a couple who darted through the door, rushing to take a seat. “And I’d also like to give a warm welcome to Weston and Lena Kincaid, who have graciously agreed to step into Pete’s shoes this year.”
My breath caught.Lena Kincaid.
I hadn’t thought about that much since the judge had pronounced us married. That day had been far too hectic to overthink things like my last name. But hearing it now stirred a flutter in the pit of my stomach.
“I’m going to hand it over to them now,” Jo said.
Every head in the room turned our way. As Weston got to his feet, buttoning his suit jacket, I suddenly felt like I was back taking notes during one of his board meetings. “Thank you, Jo. We’re very excited to be here,” he began, “and to carry on the long tradition that meant so much to my grandparents. Lena has painstakingly gathered what notes she could find in my grandad’s office. And anyone who’s ever had the pleasure of reading his handwriting knows what a daunting task that was.”
Laughter echoed around the hall.
I smiled softly at the sound, confident that Weston would continue to win over the town. He turned to me, and I realized he was waiting for me to say something.
“I’ve got a lot of notes here,” I said, raising the folder. “But I’m eager to hear from everyone. Many of you have been attending this festival for years, and Weston and I want to make sure we do it justice. So, with that in mind, I guess, let’s open the floor.”
Half a dozen hands shot into the air.
Weston pointed at the nearest gentleman. “Go ahead.”
The man shot to his feet, pulling his cap off his head and wringing it in his hands. “I’m begging you, don’t forget the port-a-loos! We forgot to order them one year, and I had a revolving door of people through my restaurant to use the loo. I’m not having that again.”
“Port-a-loos,” I said, making a note for myself. They were already on the list, but it couldn’t hurt to add in another reminder. “Okay, they’re number one. We won’t forget them.”
He nodded, sitting himself down.
Weston pointed at an older man. “Go ahead, Tam,” he said.
“Aye, thanks. It’s tradition to have the caber tossbeforethe food stalls open,” he said. “Not after. Last year, it got all muddled up and we had people getting sick on the side of the road. I motion that the food stalls don’t open at all until after the games are done. If not, people will be too full to toss the caber.”
“What’s a caber toss?” I whispered.
Isla leaned into my shoulder. “Traditional Scottish athletic event,” she whispered. “You know that long, tapered pole you see them throw at the Highland Games?”
I nodded, thinking through logistics. “Where do we get poles?”
“I’ve heard they’re stored somewhere up on the Kincaid property,” she said. “Aiden would know best.”
I made a note.
“Don’t forget the tug o’ war and the kilted dash,” someone else called. “Those are popular events too.”
“Please tell me the kilted dash is what I think it is?”
Weston nodded. “A sprint in full Highland dress. Kilts flapping. Bagpipes blasting.”
My cheeks flushed as my dream came back in snippets. This time I envisioned Weston in his kilt, standing at the top of a hill, chest glistening with sweat. I lowered my head, refusing to make eye contact with him until the heat beneath my skin faded.
“Let’s move on from activities,” Weston said. “What’s next on the list, Lena?”
“Entertainment,” I said, checking the file.
“We need to book the pipe band!” a voice cried.
