Page 169 of That Rush

She takes a drink, her eyes locked on mine. “I’m choosing coffee.”

“Good choice.”

Josie pushes the purple tote toward her. “I’m your prize helper.”

“For twenty minutes,” I add. “Then she’s with me.”

Paige looks at Josie. “Your job is to hand each reader the prize they choose. You do not get to influence the selection.”

“What if they pick wrong?”

“There are no wrong prizes.”

Josie glances into the bag. “Even the pencil?”

“Especially the pencil.”

“That seems suspicious.”

I crouch beside her. “You heard the rules.”

“I can follow rules.”

Our eyes meet.

“Fresh chance,” she says.

Josie takes her position beside the prize table. I stay close enough to redirect her first attempt to explain why a dragon sticker has greater long-term value than a pencil.

Paige handles questions, registrations, and a microphone that stops working halfway through the opening announcement. I replace the batteries before she has to ask. When the wind lifts the reading tent, I secure it with the extra tape. Josie comes with me to refill the cooler and restock activity sheets.

I watch Paige work, uninterrupted. She doesn't have to find Josie, feed her, or pull her away from the glitter glue. I handled it.

When the final story begins, Josie settles beside me on the grass with Sprinkle in her lap. Paige reads beneath the canopy, changing her voice for every character and pausing each time a child interrupts with an important correction.

She glances toward us twice.

Both times, her smile is quick and private, a flash of warmth meant only for me before she returns to the page.

When the event ends, I send Josie inside with one of the volunteers to wash marker from her hands. Paige catches my wrist and draws me behind the supply cart.

Her voice is low, meant only for me. “You remembered everything.”

“You gave me a list.”

“I did not put my coffee or muffin on it.”

“You always forget to eat during events.”

Her fingers slide into the front of my shirt. “You noticed.”

“I notice you.”

Paige kisses me.

Her mouth is warm and tastes faintly of coffee. I settle one hand at her waist and keep the kiss private, even though the pleased sound she makes tempts me to forget the library lawn ten feet away.

She draws back and brushes her thumb over my lower lip. “Thank you for making today easier.”