Page 116 of Scouting the Single Dad

Layla:

It was good chatting with you.

Me:

Yeah, same.

I’d make time for you, I’d make time for you, I’d make time for you . . .

Layla:

Night, Hayes. Good luck Monday.

Me:

Thanks.

Me:

You too.

Chapter 28

Layla

The office smells like kettle corn.

I suspect it’s Nancy’s candle, but am too lazy to get up and walk past her desk now that I’ve settled in.

Fall Fest has left a ghost—the kind that has vendors continuing to call with questions about outstanding invoices, boxes that have yet to be put in storage, and leftover goodies everyone says they don’t want to take home. The break room is full of junk food.

I pulled it off. There were no fires, no ambulance rides, no Facebook comments hating on anything we’d planned. The mayor shook my hand like I invented the event, and his single son, Tim, grinned at me until it got uncomfortable.

I stare at my computer, at a blank document titled Star Lake Winter/Spring Activity Guide.

Email dings. I open a note from a Mrs. Denise Knutson, who wants to know if pickleball will return to its regular schedule now that the godforsaken festival is over. She also wanted to make mention that a new paddle policy should be implemented because of “paddle hogs.”

Long sigh.

I type back, in the soothing language of municipal diplomacy, and thank her for her input.

Focus, Layla. You’re supposed to be working on the activity guide. It’s due at the end of the week.

I start breaking the document into sections: Kids. Teens. Adults. Seniors.

I plug in dates for youth basketball, open gym, craft nights. My fingers remember how to do this even as my brain tries to climb out the window and run back toward Arizona.

The door swings open without a knock, because privacy is a myth in this building. Margo sashays in and leans on the doorframe, donut in one hand, clipboard in the other. She takes a bite and swallows before walking all the way in and plopping into a chair.

“I come bearing news,” she announces.

“Do I need to brace myself?”

“Eh. Depends on what your thoughts are on the board approving more funding for next year’s festival, and Angelina already throwing your hat into the ring to organize it.”

I shake my head. “No. No way. June is a far better fit than I am!”

Margo neither agrees nor disagrees with me, instead barreling ahead with more news. “Grant from Parks says the new LED lights for the baseball diamond have arrived and he’ll install this week.”