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“Should I turn the page?” Marta asked.

“How about we see if anyone else wants to read?” Marta smiled and nodded, which I appreciated since I didn’t want her to be disappointed.

The young man in the Bears T-shirt got his hand up first, so I called on him.

“I’m Bart,” he said as he sat down.

“Good to meet you, Bart.” We traded fist bumps before he took the book, read two pages, and talked about the pictures. I for sure had messed up not doing that, but it didn’t seem worth going back since everyone seemed entertained.

My earlier anxiety faded to background noise. Everyone seemed to have a good time—some readers even did voices for the characters. Andre remained too, his constant smile directed at me even though he must have a thousand things to do.

I also realized that I desperately wanted to kiss his smile.

Luckily, that didn’t hit me until we reached the book’s last page just as Miss Patterson arrived.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, unpacking the puppet theater, “but thank you so much for filling in.”

Some older kids helped her set up, which was apparently a routine.

“Thanks for being such a wonderful audience,” I said to the kids. “I enjoyed reading Josh’s story with you all and learning about someone who lives in a different small town. And thanks to each of you who read too.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ethan,” they said collectively. A couple of kids even came up for fist bumps or hugs.

“You’re welcome. Have a great time with Miss Patterson.”

I joined Andre as the children settled in for the puppet show.

“That was impressive,” he said in his soft library voice as we moved away. “Thank you for filling in. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”

“You’re welcome. It was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done, but the kids being so good helped me stay calm.”

“Want to head to my office? We can talk about the judging.”

“Let’s do it. I need to pick up one thing at the desk.”

Andre raised an eyebrow, and I replied with a grin.

As we approached, Clara held up the bag. “Thanks so much for that last-minute help.”

“My pleasure.” I took it and gestured for Andre to lead the way to his office.

Boxes were everywhere, some stacked in a corner or other available spaces.

“These are for you,” I said, holding out the paper bag. “From Special Blend. I remembered you liked their maple pecan scones.”

Andre’s eyes lit up. “Thank you so much. Perfect afternoon snack. I can’t believe you remembered that after that one visit.” He accepted and pulled out a scone. “You’re having one too, right?”

“I’d love to.” I sighed. “It’s occurring to me now that I should’ve brought drinks too.”

He held up a finger. “I’ve got it covered.” He pointed behind me to a small refrigerator. “There are some bottles of coffee in there. Want to grab a couple?”

He’d stocked up with several flavors. I took two mochas, thinking they’d pair well with the scones.

As I turned and held out a drink, we laughed, realizing our hands were full. Our fingers brushed as we traded a pastry for a drink, sending that familiar spark through my chest just like the other day.

“So.” He settled behind his desk, sounding flustered. Had that touch affected him too? We stared at each other, his smile giving me goose bumps. “Let’s talk judging criteria. We can start with the crafts fair. We’ve got four criteria: Creativity, originality, use of a maple element, and relevance to the Pride theme.”

I took a seat, moving closer to the desk. “Theme incorporation?”