I sucked in a sharp breath as I realized what he was doing. Oh, no. No, no, no . . . This was terrible. Terrible! But what could I do? Other than watch Arthur chat with Steve before offering him the two wrapped sandwiches and bottle of water, all of which Steve accepted with a smile, sitting up in his lawn chair and even straightening his elf coat as he and Arthur engaged in conversation of some nature, and this was unquestionably the worst thing Arthur could have done to me.

Because it was kind.

It was generous.

It was so very, very unexpected.

He didn’t hand over the food then take a selfie with the funny-looking homeless guy and post it on social media as proof of his awesomeness or the hilarity of it all because (haha!) homeless people are funny. Woot!

No. He stayed and listened as Steve started talking (and talking and talking) and he occasionally got a few words in edgewise, at least enough to make Steve laugh until the older guy hacked up and spat out something wet, which was gross, then he recovered and smiled brightly back at Arthur, who miraculously didn’t cringe.

For a second or two, I tried to imagine Brody doing something like this, but it didn’t mesh. Not that Brody was a bad guy.

But he wasn’t . . . Arthur. And what was I supposed to do with that?

I sighed to myself in heartfelt misery as Arthur waved to Steve, who was already halfway through the first sandwich, and started back toward the Hummer, with me tracking him every step of the way.

He opened the door and climbed back in, shutting it quickly and rubbing his chilled hands together.

“Right,” was all he said, his focus on the process of turning the Hummer around on the narrow, two-lane street to go back in the direction of the inn.

Other than giving him instructions, I didn’t utter a word the rest of the ride, but my heart was pounding the entire way.

What to do, what to do, what to do . . .

Fourteen

In the end, I made cookies. Or, at least, put forth my best effort with Arthur and Aunt Esha. Along the way I learned that having an ever-increasing crush on someone whom you cannot be with for a litany of reasons did not make that crush go away.

Quite the opposite.

I also learned I am not good at cooking, or baking, or really anything to do with a kitchen, though I suppose it just confirmed what I already knew.

We also burned the pans. Badly.

Yeah . . .