by Piper Rayne
“There was a girl named Del at Growly Bear Bakery,” I say as we approach the bridge.
“He took you to Growly Bear?” she asks, looking even more surprised than before.
“Yeah, why?”
Her lips twitch. “Just … never mind … how did Del react?”
I watch Annika for a moment, not sure I should be prying like this. “Angry.”
“She’s totally psycho.” Annika sighs but it’s more like a groan. “He was such an idiot to sleep with her.”
“He said that he was missing home.”
A sad look captures her face. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” The car cruises over the wooden bridge. The clear river below cascades over pale cobbles, bringing its mineral scent into the car. “I only heard about it later. Small towns, you know? I just wish she’d leave him alone.”
“What do you mean?”
“She practically stalked him. Transferring to State so she could be at the same school.”
“Were they dating?”
“No.”
“Yikes. That’s creepy.”
“Our moms are friends, used to be really close.” She takes a big breath. “So, we kind of grew up together—Delaney and Ian, her brother.”
I polish off the last of the cookie. “It must be so hard when everyone knows your business. How do you stand it?”
She shrugs. “It can be good, too. People really come together. Like when my dad died last year, they were like one big extended family.”
“I’m sorry, Annika,” I say, wincing. A bunch of questions get solved all at once: Caleb feeling homesick, Maggie’s comment about their mom.
“Thanks,” she says, her eyes pinched at the edges.
I want to ask how he died, but I’ve intruded enough.
Annika turns left onto the highway. “So, big decisions,” she says as she accelerates. “Pie eating, dunk tank, water balloon toss, cake walk, or pitching contest.”
Thankful for the transition, I roll up my window slightly to reduce the amount of hair blowing in my face. “Which cookie did you enter into the baking contest?
“My molasses crinkles and Cowboy Heaven.”
“You have to win,” I say. Her cowboy cookies are aptly named—crispy on the outside and soft in the center and loaded with peanutty goodness.
Annika just shrugs. “There’s also a high school baseball game and square dancing.”
“Square dancing? People still do that?”
“Heck yeah, they teach it in P.E. all through middle school.”
I laugh out loud. “That’s fantastic. I’d love to see it.”
“Careful, some old timer will probably ask you to dance.”
“That actually sounds really sweet.”
“Oh, and don’t forget the carnival too. Nothing crazy. Ferris wheel, the Zipper, ring toss, stuff for the little kids.”
Normally, I’m not much of a ride person, but the “yes” plan is working for me, so why turn it off now? “I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Okay,” Annika says, brightening, as if I’ve just given her a gift.
“Oh, and I’m buying your tickets,” I say.
“What? You don’t have to do that,” she says with a look of shock.
“I want to,” I say. “You’ve done a lot for me.”
She shakes her head.
“Think of it as payment for these,” I say, stealing another cookie.
“If you put it that way, all right,” she replies, turning off the highway at Penny Creek.
“By the way, my friend Sam’s older brother can fix your car.” She eyes me. “Nine hundred bucks.”
“Wow, really?” I say. “That would be awesome.”
“Cool,” she says. “I’ll let him know. You’ll have to get it towed to his shop.”
Annika and I walk from where she parks on a side street into town. We join the many other people heading the same way, as if we’re all ants returning to the nest. Along the way, Annika introduces me to about a dozen people, and when we meet up with a few of her friends, some of which I met the night before, they pull me into their group like we’ve known each other for years.
We watch the floats pass—two marching bands, classic cars, the mayor, and an old, wooden ore train pulled by a dozen huge horses. The biggest surprise is the two hockey players roller blading behind it to scoop poop off the streets: Caleb and Grady, dressed in sports jerseys and shorts.
The moment our eyes connect, my stomach drops into my knees. Caleb grins, his whole face lighting up. Butterflies fill my chest and my skin prickles.
He swoops by scooping a pile of poop into his giant snow shovel, then circles back to where another teammate mans a trash bin on wheels.
Caleb circles back, coming to a hard stop right in front of me. His brow is damp with sweat and his curls are loose and wild. I relive their silky texture gliding between my fingers while we kissed. A low ache starts thumping between my thighs.
“Having fun?” he asks with a grin.
“Yeah,” I say, practically breathless.
“I’m in the dunk tank at three,” he says with a wink, then skates off, his powerful muscles making the work look easy, graceful.
The looks I’m getting from Annika and her friends makes me blush. “What?” I say. “I promised to play. It’s for a good cause,” I add because who wouldn’t want to support the volunteer fire department?
Then the Homecoming King and Queen arrive on a majestic float—kids Annika and her friends obviously know, so they all blow kisses and exchange frantic waves with the Queen.
Meanwhile I’m watching Caleb skate down the road after the horses, his body gliding over the pavement with ease. But across the street, tucked into the crowd but easily visible because of her glare, is a woman I recognize: Del. She looks away before I have time to react, instead turning her attention to Caleb.
After the parade, we drive a few miles up a dirt road to the county fairgrounds. As we crest a slight rise, the rows of cars glint under the bright sunshine. Beyond are the rides, a large barn, and what looks like an arena.
By three o’clock, I’m feeling sunburned and my feet ache but it’s the most fun I’ve had since my family vacationed at a theme park when I was in eighth grade. Annika and I have eaten cotton candy, been soaked by water balloons, ridden the Ferris wheel, and driven bumper cars.
“Can we visit the dunk tank?” I ask.
She gives me a knowing look. “Absolutely. I can’t wait to see the look on Caleb’s face when I slam that bullseye.”
When we arrive, Caleb is climbing onto the little seat inside the cage. His gaze roams the crowd. Once again, I get that jolt when our eyes meet.
Grady’s first in line but misses his first pitch.
“That’s all you got, asshole?” Caleb cries.
Grady winds up again but the ball goes high.
“Ha!” Caleb says. “Last try. Bet you ten bucks you miss again.”
“You’re so going down, Morgan,” Grady calls. “How about twenty?”
“You’re on,” Caleb says, then shifts in his seat, his eyes on Grady.
“C’mon, Grady,” Annika cries.
Grady gives her a steely look. I swear Annika blushes. Maybe I’m not the only one playing with fire this summer.
Grady winds up and throws. The ball hits the mark and Caleb falls into the water with a giant splash. He comes up hooting, then swims to the ladder and flips his head to clear the hair from his eyes. His completely wet t-shirt outlines his sculpted chest and arms. I have the sudden urge to run my fingers over his chest, or maybe peel off the shirt and lick him.
A shudder passes through me, but I fight it. What the heck is wrong with me?
“Just wait until your turn,” Caleb says to Grady with a laugh. “You are so going down.”
“Bring it, butt munch,” Grady replies. He steps closer and the two trade a stream of insults. Grady flips him the bird and trots off.
I step up and offer my donation to the
attendant, a shirtless man dressed in red suspenders and firefighter pants. He and Annika say hello while I take my first ball and approach the line.
“Whatcha got, sweetheart?” he taunts.
I give him the stink eye.
He raises his eyebrows, and it’s the sexiest look I’ve ever seen.
I’m not a ball sports person. As a kid, I never played catch. In P.E., I was the one with my hands over my eyes when they threw me the ball. My real dad is a research scientist with little interest in sports besides his road bike. My stepdad is more of a sports guy, but we’re not chummy enough for him to teach me to throw.
So, it’s no surprise that my first attempt flies up and over the cage.
“Try a little lower next time,” he teases.
“Thanks,” I reply, trying to hold back my grin.
I try to wind up like I saw Grady doing, but this one flies too far to the left, hitting the outside corner of the tank.
“Hey, you don’t have to go easy on me,” Caleb says. “I’m a good swimmer.”
“Shut up, Caleb!” Annika says.
But he just laughs.
Annika steps close and takes the ball from my hands. “When you pull back, keep the ball closer to your shoulder, and stand sideways.”
“Hey, that’s cheating!” Caleb calls out.
I shift my position this time and try to do as Annika says. The ball gets closer this time but still misses.
“Can she have one more turn?” Annika says to the attendant.
There are a few people waiting behind us.
“Please?” she asks them. “I think she’s almost got it.”
“That’s not fair,” Caleb shouts. He runs a hand through his wet hair.
“She’ll make it worth your while,” Annika says to the attendant, then urges me to cough up more money.
I fish out a twenty. “How’s this?” I ask.
The attendant grins. The people behind me give a collective cheer.
I stuff the bill into the cash box, then step up to the mark painted on the grass again.
My first throw flies wide to the right, but I’m getting the feel for it now.
“Didn’t your dad teach you to throw?” Caleb jeers.
“My dad taught me calculus.”
“How’s that working out?”
I double over with laughter while Annika warns him off.
I throw my second ball. It soars toward the target but misses by an inch. Closer….
“Okay, now I know what we’re doing on your next day off,” Caleb says.
“Oh yeah?” I ask, though I’m too busy trying to channel Babe Ruth. Though did Babe Ruth even pitch? Or was he only good at hitting?
I pick up my final ball.
He hooks his finger at me, beckoning me closer. “Pitching practice,” he says when I near the edge of the cage.
“What if I don’t want to?” I ask.
“Come on, Adventure Girl,” he says with a smile as bright as the sun.
“Baseball isn’t an adventure,” I reply.
“Everything with me is an adventure,” he replies.
He might as well have thrown a ball at my stomach because it lurches inward—bullseye.
“If you miss, you have to say yes,” he adds.
“And if I don’t miss?” I ask, poised with the ball in my grip.
His eyes sparkle. “Then you get to teach me something.”
My heart flutters with delight that he’s getting so much enjoyment out of this. “Like what?”
“I’m sure an idea will come to you.”
I bite down on the smile threatening to blow my composure. Such a dirty mind, is on the tip of my tongue. Takes one to know one, he might reply.
I return to the line and spin to face him. After a hard exhale to clear the ridiculous thoughts spinning through my mind, I throw my ball. This time, I manage to put more power behind it.
The sounds of the carnival fade as the ball soars through the air.
12
Caleb
Slam.
I drop into the cold pool. I come up with a splash and tread water for a moment so I can wipe my eyes.
“Sorry,” Lori says. Her fingers wrap around the metal cage as she peers at me.
“Nice shot,” I say, and reach for the ladder. I’m still thinking about that look on her face when I offered that she could teach me something.
I groan. What I wouldn’t give to know what went through her mind.
Even though riding dirt bikes with Grady this morning helped clear my head, the minute we returned, so did she. The ten minutes I spent in my room getting dressed was near torture because her scent still lingered, bringing back her soft breaths in my ear and her limbs wrapped around mine.
I just want to have fun this summer.
Why do things have to end so soon between us? Why can’t we just see where it goes, knowing it will naturally end when summer’s over?
“Is it cold?” Lori asks, looking concerned.
“Nah,” I give her a wink. “Meet me later?”
Lori’s eyes brighten. “Where?”
“I have an insatiable craving for pie,” I say.
Her face blushes crimson. “Uh,” she stammers.
“The pie-eating contest. It’s at five o’clock.”
“Right,” she says.
“I’ll meet you.”
Annika grabs Lori’s hand and whisks her away, but not before sending me a warning look.
Several of my so-called friends stop by to drench me, plus half the town seems to want to join in. I tell myself it’s because they want to support the fire department, not to punish me for my many mistakes.
Grady gets his turn in the tank, and I proceed to empty my wallet to soak him. Then we join up with a handful of others and roam the carnival. We play a couple of games, have a bone-jarring round of bumper cars, and eat several loaded hot dogs.
My gaze sweeps the crowd constantly, looking for Lori.
“Congrats,” Grady says under his breath as we watch one of our friends play a shooting game.
“For what?” I reply.
“Getting back in the game,” he says. “Last night?” He makes a mildly obscene hip thrust.
I cross my arms. “Whatever.”
“Were you two on the roof?”
“Dude, are you spying on me? That’s sick.”
“No, someone told me they saw you two necking up there.”
I shrug. There are no quicker tongues than in a small town. It’s why I can’t wait to leave Penny Creek for good.
“You’ve been looking for her all night. Are you guys a thing?”
“Is that a technical term?”
Grady rolls his eyes. “It’s just not like you. I’m wondering if you’re getting soft on me.”
I suppress the surge of anger. My friend doesn’t mean to piss me off. “I like her. We’re just hanging out, that’s all.”
“Whatever you say, man.”
At five, I peel off and head for the pie eating contest. It’s in the large tent with all the crafts, so I have to pass quilts and collections of wool and hand-carved furniture before I get to the food section.
Not surprisingly, Annika’s cookies have won some kind of prize. She’s been winning these things since she was twelve. At least she stopped entering her baby orphan animals—the one-eared rabbit, the spring lamb, the litter of kittens. Though she still adopts plenty.
“Hey Caleb,” a voice says from behind me. My skin prickles as I spin around.
“Delaney,” I say. “Enjoying the carnival?”
She shrugs. “Our pig got second place.”
“Congrats,” I say.
“Saw you in the dunk tank.”
I’m surprised she didn’t jump at the chance to take her shot. Or get her brother to do it. “Yeah, for the fire department.”
“You should wear your firefighter uniform for me some time,” she says, her eyes flashing.
“Uh, no, Del, we’re not tog
ether, remember?”
Her face twists like she’s just sucked on a lemon, then she looks away. “I know, but we could be.”
For the thousandth time, I curse the moment of weakness at that party. It had been a shitty spring semester and our team had just lost the playoffs. She looked different that night, confident, wearing a sleeveless top that revealed a patch of smooth belly. When it was over and I took her home, I’d never felt more like a complete ass, made worse by the look on her face when I told her it hadn’t meant anything other than what it was.
I cross my arms. “No.”
“That girl doesn’t know you, not like I do.”
I take a second to process what she’s getting at. “Maybe I like it that way.”
She purses her lips. It pains me that they are lips I once kissed. They’re thin and pale, not like Lori’s. Lori’s bottom lip is plump, perfect for gliding my teeth against.
“I bet I can get you to change your mind,” she says in that needy voice that makes me cringe. It’s the crazy voice she used sometimes when we were kids being forced to play together while our moms drank instant coffee upstairs, oblivious.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” I say before spinning away.
At the far end of the booth stands a long table lined with pies. Lori is waiting in line and I sidle up behind her. She’s gathered her hair into a ponytail, revealing the smooth curve of her neck.
Lori senses me close and glances over her shoulder. Instantly, her eyes sparkle with delight.
Damn, it feels good to have someone look at me like that.
“That’s cutting,” she protests, raising an eyebrow.
A heat wave flashes through me at her sass, making my fingertips throb to touch her. “You were saving my place,” I reply.
She shakes her head, grinning.
It takes everything I have not to wrap my arms around her. “So, it is weird?” I ask her, my lips so close to the back of her ear I could close the gap and lick it in less than a second.
She turns, which makes her ponytail swish. Instant fantasies of what I could do with that ponytail flare to life in my mind.
“Is what weird?” she asks.
“This,” I say. “Hanging out like this.”
She seems to think about it. “No. I guess not.”