She laughed. “Maybe. Kind of. It’s not awful.”

He ate a tostada. “People keep talking about it snowing tomorrow.”

“We’re all hoping. It’s so late this year. The town makes a big deal of the first snowfall, so tourists always want to be here when it happens, but there’s no way to be sure of the date.”

His gaze lingered on her face. “I’m sorry I’m going to miss it.”

“You are? But you can’t. Where are you—” She held in a sigh. “Is it already time for you to go to Los Angeles for the variety show?”

“Yes. I fly out early in the morning.”

Ugh. He was leaving. Worse, they were already well into the second half of the month. Her parents’ wedding was next week. Then it was Christmas, and then Micah would be gone.

He surprised her by taking her hand in his and lacing their fingers together. “I’ll be gone three days, and then I’ll be back.”

She tried to smile. “Oh, I don’t know. You might land in LA and realize what you’ve been missing all this time.”

“I know what I’ll be missing, and it’s not anything in Southern California.”

Ah, what? Did he mean he would miss her? Was there a way to ask without risking having him laugh in her face?

“They grow avocados in Southern California, so at least you’ll have that,” she said instead.

He laughed, then leaned in and lightly kissed her. “Yes, they do. I’ll bring you some.”

“That would be very sweet.”

“Anything else you want from the city?”

“Just you.”

The words fell out before she could stop them, and then they just hung there, big and alive and un-call-back-able.

Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no. How was she supposed to explain that?

“I, ah, um, meant to say,” she began, only to have him shake his head.

“Don’t take it back. Please.”

His blue gaze was steady, his expression intense. Her heart fluttered a few times as she tried to keep up with the conversation.

“Your parents are renewing their vows next week,” he said.

The change in topic was both a relief and a little disappointing. “They are.”

“Are you taking anyone to the wedding?”

“You mean like a date? No.”

“Would you like to take me?”

She would have squealed, but as he asked the question, he began brushing his thumb across the back of her hand. It was nothing, really, or it should have been nothing. He probably wasn’t even aware of the movement. It wasn’t his fault that her entire body went on alert.

“If you’d like to go,” she said, grateful she didn’t stutter.

“I would.”