Page 34 of The Worst Possible Plan

She stared at me for a long second. Whatever she’d expected me to say, it hadn’t been that.

Another volunteer approached with a heavy roll of orange extension cords slung over one shoulder. Late twenties, work boots, faded jeans, sun-tanned skin, and the easy confidence of someone who spent more time outdoors than behind a desk. He shifted the weight of the cords as he reached us.

“Sheriff Walker?” His breathing was a little heavier from hauling the cables across the grounds, but he still managed an easy smile. Around here, volunteers always smiled first and complained later.

I nodded toward Hartwell next to me. “You’ll want Hartwell.” It would’ve been faster if I answered. Easier too. But that wasn’t the point anymore.

The young man offered Sophie an apologetic smile, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Sorry. Ms. Hartwell?” Even he looked a little uncertain, like his instincts told him to ask me again anyway, but he was willing to give the new event planner a chance.

Hartwell gave him a confident smile. “Yes? What is it?”

He lifted the roll of extension cords slightly. “Where do these go?” He shifted the weight again, patiently waiting while the heavy orange cable slowly tried to slide off his shoulder.

She glanced around at the food trucks. “I… uh…” Her eyes bounced from the electrical boxes to the trucks and then back to the cords. I could almost see the gears turning. This wasn’t really about extension cords anymore. It was about trusting herself to answer before certainty showed up.

For just a second, I watched the panic creep back into her face. It arrived quickly, the same way it had yesterday. Only this time she caught it before anyone else did.

Then… it disappeared.

She took one slow breath. “Leave them beside the power boxes until the inspector signs off.” She didn’t rush the words. She simply picked a direction and committed to it, even if I knew she was still guessing.

The volunteer nodded immediately. “No problem.” He spun around and jogged away, the extension cords bouncing lightly against his back.

She looked at me again. “I guessed.” There wasn’t much pride in her voice. Mostly relief.

“I know.”

“It happened to be right.”

“I know.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you messing with me?” She looked almost suspicious now, like she’d decided there was no reasonable explanation for my behavior other than I was entertaining myself at her expense.

“A little.”

She sighed. “I can’t tell when you’re joking. You’ve got that sheriff face.”

I watched her. “What’s a sheriff face?” I wanted to know.

“It’s like…” She tilted her head, studying my face like she was trying to solve a puzzle. “Your face has excellent customer service. Very polite. Very calm. Very reassuring. But your eyes are impossible to read. They give nothing away. It’s like trying to negotiate with a really attractive granite countertop.” She winced. “That came out weird.”

“A little.”

“See?” She pointed at me immediately, as though she’d just won her own argument. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. I don’t know if you’re teasing me or evaluating me. You could tell me I was doing a great job and then arrest me five minutes later, and I’d never see it coming.”

“Maybe both.”

She groaned. “Exactly. Sheriff face.” She threw both hands into the air before letting them fall to her sides.

That made me smile. Just a little. It wasn’t the comparison. It was the look on her face the second the words left her mouth. Most people measured every word around me because of the badge. Hartwell didn’t seem capable of stopping her thoughts before they reached her mouth.

Her eyes flicked to my mouth, and her cheeks reddened further. She’d noticed I’d smiled. But she was smiling too, despite herself. And I noticed her shoulders relaxed a fraction. Since I’d walked into the lot, she looked less like someone waiting for the next disaster and more like someone who might actually believe she could handle this one.

I looked up as Tony approached.

“What about the propane inspection?” he asked. He hooked both thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans, waiting without the impatience I’d seen earlier. Amazing what solving one problem could do for a person’s blood pressure.

Before I could answer, Hartwell spoke.