For instance, a surprise party was fine, so long as the surprise wasn't on Aiden-she had to warn him in advance so he could plan it into his day. Just about anything, in fact, was fine, so long as it was in his schedule.
This trip? She knew he'd planned most of it down to the hour. Impulsive and spontaneous were two words he was practically allergic to, so this little stop in small town Ohio? Had to have him near panicked.
Which was why she'd reached out to touch him. Funny thing, that … no one ever seemed to touch Aiden. Well, other than the women he dated, but that was hardly a touch intended to inspire comfort. He lived in this bubble of his own superior-ness, and few felt comfortable enough with him to do more than shake his hand.
But Waverley showed none of her father's reticence at the impulsive. The little girl was alight with excitement. So far, she'd collected candy off the street when the firefighters threw it from their place in the parade, managed to make friends with a little girl in a princess dress, and danced when the marching band went by. While her father, looking stoic and worried, stood a few feet back-well on the curb-with his hands stuffed in his pockets and a dark expression on his handsome face.
She stepped back to join him and was able to hear Aiden's soft words, clearly intended for her ears only. "I hope you're not planning to let her eat that candy. They threw it on the road. The same road those horses are using for a toilet over there."
He gestured with his shoulder, and Chelsea bit back a giggle. "Five-second rule?" she tried.
Her boss glared at her. "I can call back to the city, have the service send me another driver. I have no clue how we lost the car load of security, but likely they're stopped behind this parade somewhere. I'm sorry that this happened. I should've had a backup plan."
From Chelsea's perspective, that would've been a terrible idea. "Sometimes, in life, we are better off working without a plan. I can drive."
She waited, watching Waverley as she grabbed more candy, this time thrown from a float covered in local cheerleaders. Her father cringed as she unwrapped a sucker and popped it into her mouth without the slightest hesitation. "I could've bought her candy if she'd wanted it," he said, ignoring her offer to drive. "I know of some great gourmet chocolatiers and candy makers back in the city."
Chelsea didn't bother to resist the eye roll that his words evoked. "Dude, seriously … she's a kid, not one of your paramours. She likely prefers that candy to anything you could've bought her. Besides, she's having fun."
He grunted. She took that to mean he couldn't disagree to the fun but wasn't thrilled with Chelsea right that second. She reiterated, "I can drive, Aiden."
"Don't be ridiculous," he practically snarled. One of his hands came out of his pocket briefly, reaching out as if to stop Waverley, who'd bounced back into the road to pick up more candy. But the child was clearly safe, and the little girl in the princess dress was by her side as they each accepted a balloon from a clown in the parade. His hand went back into his pocket, and he didn't say anything more.
"Look." She turned to face him head on so that she knew he had her attention. "The pamphlet says there are rides, fun, games, and food at the Strawberry Festival. When this parade is over, I vote that we walk over there," she pointed in the general direction that the signs indicated led to the depot where the festival was to take place, "and have a fun little distracting day. No one knows who we are here. Security will just draw attention, and then someone might recognize us, so this is a unique opportunity. Waverley will have a blast, it will give Jimmy time to recover if you don't want me to drive, and we'll be back on the road in no time. Sure, we'll lose part of a day of travel time, but according to your itinerary … "
She tried not to sound as disgusted by the itinerary as she felt, but none of her family trips included a schedule. Planning time like that didn't allow for any fun, in her opinion, but it wasn't her place to argue with him. Only to help him make the best of what was going on, help him bond with his kid, then go back to her normal life at the end of this fiasco.
"I'm not obsessed with my schedule," he asserted, looking down his nose at her.
This time, she resisted rolling her eyes, but it was a real struggle. "I never said you were."
"But you think I am. You think I can't just have fun, roll with the punches, be spontaneous," he accused.
No, she didn't think that … She knew it. Well, unless it involved "entertaining" in her office. He managed spontaneity then, apparently. "I didn't say you couldn't be spontaneous, either," she pointed out.