by Brea Viragh
“What’s wrong with that?” she protested. “Akron sounds plenty boring to me.”
“We’d only been seeing each other for a month. Like I’m going to hop on a plane and go out of town with a guy I just met?”
She pursed her lips. “You’ve done worse.”
I pointed to her. “We don’t talk about them. Remember?”
“I know, I know. Sometimes I just like to push your buttons.” She held her hands up in front of her in surrender and glanced at the growing masses of children with their chaperones. This crowd had a set of lungs on them. I could hear them coming from across the midway. Essie burped. I squared my shoulders.
“Well, stop it,” I admonished. “Now isn’t the time to discuss my failures with men. We’re here for the eighth-graders.”
“Sure, the eighth-graders.” Essie sighed in annoyance.
“It’s show time,” I murmured under my breath, watching the horde roll in like a wave of screaming hellfire. It wasn’t that I disliked them in any way—kids, I mean—beyond the crying and whining and constant drain on the bank account. I just wasn’t in a position to have any around, besides my niece Kaylen. Her I could tolerate for more than an hour at a time.
“That girl is going to owe me for this.” The thought was voiced aloud to no one in particular. Throwing back my espresso-colored braid with a dramatic flair, I struggled to get into the part I’d been asked to play.
It took five attempts before someone finally managed to hit the target and send me plummeting into the vat of lukewarm water. The shock was enough of a jolt to cause a small earthquake in Kansas. Which was a problem since I lived in Virginia.
Yeah, a big girl with curves in a few hundred gallons of water...I didn’t see it as a recipe for success. This was going to be the longest five hours of my life.
Essie sent me a look laden with a combination of regret and amusement. Then she took the next child’s tickets and handed him a baseball. Judging from the pitch and quality of her voice when she instructed him how to throw, I was fairly certain my best friend secretly had it out for me.
Maybe she was better at the teaching part than I’d thought.
The trend continued for the rest of midmorning into afternoon. I glanced down at my feet, bright red toenails wiggling up at me amidst white prune-y skin. Any more of this and I’d be waterlogged for days. These kids had great aim. What were they putting in the milk these days?
“I need to take a break,” I announced with an hour left to go.
“You getting a little lightheaded from having to hold your breath?” Essie asked. A dig on my constant dunking.
I grabbed hold of my braid, dripping water back into the tank, and gave it a squeeze. “Stop showing them how to properly throw.”
“I’m not doing a thing. Their form needed a little help so I offered my advice. I didn’t know it would work.”
“Let’s trade places and see how you feel then.”
It took effort getting down from the stand, maneuvering the ladder with slick feet and hands that refused to grip the rungs. Eventually I made it to the ground. Legs shaking. Goose bumps rising on my skin even with the May heat.
“You look like Venus just stepping out of the ocean,” Essie commented nonchalantly. She crossed her arms over her chest and shot me a shit-eating grin. At least, I was pretty sure she thought it was shit-eating. The closest Essie could get was cheesy self-awareness falling a hair short of smug.
I raised an eyebrow and landed hard on the grass. “If Venus was about two hundred pounds with feisty Latina blood running through her veins.”
“You’re too hard on yourself.”
“And you’re jealous of my bootie.” I shook my generous rear in her direction, then turned toward the concession stands. “Did you say you saw funnel cakes earlier?”
“Yes. But they only take tickets.” Essie dug around in her pocket and pulled out a wad of crumpled paper. “Here, have some of mine. And bring me back a cake while you’re there.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Good thing she’d had those tickets, otherwise I would have been left starving. There’s a certain emotion called hangry with which I was close friends. I didn’t want the kids to see my hangry persona, and I was pretty sure no one else wanted her around either. Beatrice. What a nasty bitch.
“Have you seen Kaylen?” I asked as I tried to figure out my next move. “She was supposed to stop by but I haven’t seen her since this started.”
“No, sorry,” Essie answered with a half-shrug. “I think your sister said she’d be helping out with the kissing booth today.”
I started. “The kissing booth? Kaylen? She’s only thirteen!”
“And in junior high school. Things aren’t like they were when we were that age. They grow up too fast nowadays.”
Fairly certain Essie and I had had different experiences when we were that age, I kept the thought to myself. “Well, keep your eye out,” I told her with a parting wave over my shoulder. “If you see my niece, send me a signal.”
Essie puckered her lips and blew, scowling when no sound came out. “You know I can’t whistle!”
I walked away laughing. That was the good thing about our friendship. She had the singular ability to make me laugh whenever I needed a pick-me-up, and without any prompting. Through no fault of her own, either. I liked to think whatever half-assed charisma I possessed was starting to rub off on her. And maybe her penchant for scheduling and organization would rub off on me one of these days. I was great when it came to my job, manager of a swanky art gallery and retail spot on Main Street. But for me? Personally? My brain was about as scattered as they came.
Thank God Essie had agreed to come out with me today. Not just come out, but stick by my side even when her bakery had set up shop amidst the colorful and festive concession stands.
The afternoon sun was bright overhead, a warm breeze indicating that summer was not far. I drew in a deep breath and let my nose lead me off into the bright blue yonder.
It had been about eight months since the last great upset in our lives. We’d figured out the culprit behind the attacks on Essie—turned out her ex-boyfriend had some pretty substantial connections to a drug-trafficking ring—and I’d been enjoying the calm after the storm. No more drama to occupy my time and keep me distracted from more pleasurable pursuits. Whether they be financial, emotional, or otherwise. My favorite was otherwise.
I moved between the stands, all trying to raise money for the school’s summer programs. It didn’t take long to navigate the entirety of the setup. Leslie sat on a stool behind the ticket counter, light brown hair sticking out in every direction. I shot her a salute and she glared at me, the same glare my sister used to give me when I would pull the arms off of her dolls.
Then I spotted a familiar face to the left. “Kaylen Vest!”
“Aunt Shari! Over here!”
Pale-skinned, with a headful of golden-tipped black curls, the teen had brown eyes and a little toothy smile that made my heart feel uncomfortable and gooey. The spitting image of my sister, with the exception of her height. Kaylen would pass us all in a few more years. Our Amazon princess. Her father was out of the picture and not coming back. My sister had decided it best to give Kaylen our last name. It was easier for everyone involved.
“Hi, sweetie-pie.” The smile was genuine. I squinted through the heat rippling off the dry, compact ground and crossed to the tent where my niece sat. “Please tell me you aren’t the one doing the kissing here.”
Instead of answering me right away, she pointed upward to the sign above her head. “You must be eighteen or older to participate. I’m just here to make sure the old ladies don’t get out of hand.”
“And you’ve done a great job so far,” a masculine voice cut in.
Stupid me for not having noticed we weren’t alone. I spared a glance over toward one half of the male duo manning the booth. Then blinked. Blinked again, and inhaled so sharply I had to hack up a lung for a few seconds. When
I recovered, I asked, “Sorry, you are...?”
He was leaning against a tent support, beefy arms folded over his chest and one sneakered foot leveraged against the support. This was one fellow I hadn’t seen in town before. I would have remembered if I had. His arms were roped with muscle, adding emphasis to the breadth of his chest. My god, did the man swim a mile a day? Those were shoulders wide enough to paddleboard on. His mouth was full, set in a sweetly upturned line, and light blond hair curled around his ears.
“Fenton Novak,” he said in answer to my question and held out a hand, seeming not to care that I was drenched and dripping. “Head babysitter and part-time groping victim. Pleased to meet you.”
I took his hand with a degree of reluctance. Not that there was anything wrong with the guy. He had a good smile and a decent body. What I could see of it, anyway. Those shoulders made the tent feel three sizes too small. But he’d been eavesdropping on my conversation, and I didn’t care for the interruption.
“Shari Vest.” I returned the handshake. “You’re watching out for my niece? I don’t want anyone trying to hand off tickets in exchange for some hunka hunka burnin’ love behind the curtain.”
“Jeez, you think I would do something like that?” Kaylen cocked her hip to the side in a classic gesture. “I have standards, Aunt Shari. There are little kids running around.”
Little kids? To me, Kaylen was still a little kid. Running around the house in her pink Underoos and telling me about how she’d like to be a fairy princess when she grew up. Hopefully she’d learn to be a little more discerning than her mother and the endless line of bad choices she’d made.
Hell, I shouldn’t talk. I was the same way.
“I guess you guys have to fight them off with a stick, then,” I said to Fenton, leaning against the counter and glancing over my shoulder at the nonexistent line.
His companion, a guy I’d gone to school with but could never remember his name—Rex or Tex or something—nodded. Not like he was an impressive specimen. A foot too short and a mile too loud. “You hit us during a lull. You should have seen the lips we’ve been kissing for the past three hours.”
“We’re exhausted,” Fenton said, the words barely audible. A fitted polo outlined his broad build. His facial features may hold too much boy-next-door wholesomeness for my taste, but he had an allure about him.
“Oh, I bet. These kinds of promotions can zap your energy,” I said.
He gestured toward my outfit, plastered against me and showing every curve. Every nook and cranny. Every everything. “They roped you into something worse, I think.”
“I’m fine.” I ran a hand over my front and adjusted it with a wet squelch. “It’s not so bad on a hot day like this.”
“At least we’re doing something good for the community, right? Raising money for the school kids.”
“Don’t call us kids,” Kaylen admonished again, using her elbow to catch him in the side. “I’m thirteen.”
Fenton had the grace to look properly chastised before shooting me a wink. “You’re right. I apologize.”
I pretended I hadn’t seen the wink.
“I feel like I’ve seen you around before,” he commented, turning back to me.
“Well, it’s a small town. I’m sure we’ve run into each other somewhere.” I would have remembered, though, I thought. Under different circumstances, I would have tried to weasel my way into a date. Then I wondered if he kept his socks on when he showered. Yuck.
“I’m a bartender down at the Tooth.”
“Ah, of course. I bet you’ve seen it all.”
“That’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life,” he told me quickly.
His companion bumped him on the shoulder. “My friend is trying to get into house flipping.”
They said it like it made a difference. Like I would somehow be invested in the answer. In spite of myself, and the grumbling in my stomach which had Beatrice my hangry persona begging for a funnel cake, I turned back to Fenton. And looked forward to his answer. “What kind of house flipping?”
The odd little blush working its way toward the apples of his cheeks was adorable. “It’s not flipping, exactly. I bought an old bed-and-breakfast just off the parkway and I’m trying to rehab the building. Get it in some sort of habitable condition and open in the next couple of months.”
“That’s awesome.” The weird thing was, I meant it. “What kind of plans do you have for the place?”
“Aunt Shari, are you going to buy in or not?”
Kaylen’s sweet voice held a wealth of irritation at being ignored. The pout I saw pasted on her face was one designed to get her what she wanted. I was determined not to let it affect me. “I don’t know what you mean,” I answered.
“Buy in.” She gestured to the sign above her head. “You can’t just stand here all day. You’re scaring away the other women customers.”
“I prefer to think I’m a magnet for beauty, Kaylen,” I responded with just as much sarcasm. “And watch the attitude. I’m doing this for you, ya know.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. Now are you buying in or not?”
“I think she’s asking if you’d like to enjoy a smooch from one of the two handsomest men in town,” ol’ Tex Mex joked.
I looked down at my hand and the tickets I still had clutched there. They were soggy around the edges. “I’m not sure I have enough to afford you.”
“The two handsomest men in town are on sale today. For pretty cheap, actually,” he stated ruefully. “Only five tickets.”
“You’ll still have plenty left over for food. I haven’t eaten anything since this morning.” Kaylen said it in a way that let me know she expected a snack as well. Hopefully I’d have enough left for three funnel cakes.
Glancing around at the crowd, I said, “I’m not sure. I wouldn’t want to push your lips over the edge. You guys said they were exhausted. A kiss from me tends to lay a man low.”
Tex Mex leaned forward on his elbows, shooting me a look. One of those looks. “I’ll make an exception for you.”
“Well, who am I to say no.” I smoothed the front of my shirt, looking like a hot mess. “Since you’re making an exception and all.”
“Five tickets, please.” Kaylen tried her best to hide a smile while holding out her hand.
I slapped down the desired number with a gleeful gurgle that had her face scrunching. “There you go.”
“Thanks, Aunt Shari. Enjoy.”
Fenton stepped forward and casually elbowed Tex Mex aside. “I’m off my break now.”
I watched Tex Mex’s face drop. “Now? You’re coming off your break now?”
“Sure. Didn’t you say you were hungry?”
“Wait, what’s happening?” My gaze swung back and forth between the two men. The sudden butterflies in my chest cavity were a surprise to me.
“Only one of us at a time mans the kissing booth.” Tex Mex jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Guess it’s time for me to clock out for a bit. Have a great day, Shari.”
“Yeah, you too...”
I blinked until my eyes went dry, still not quite sure what was going on. Tex Mex shot me a brief farewell before parting the sides of the tent and stepping out. My eyes locked with Fenton’s as he leaned forward, elbows on the booth, heavy-lidded eyes shaded from the sun by the overhead awning.
“I think you made Rex mad,” Kaylen interjected with a giggle.
Fenton shrugged and kept his eyes on me. “He’ll recover.”
“What is this, you stepping in at the last minute to get the girl? Claiming your kiss?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“Like I said, Aunt Shari.” The girl glanced up from her phone for a split second. “Enjoy.”
“She’s not the only one who’s going to enjoy,” Fenton remarked.
My hands went to my hips. “Pretty sure of yourself.”
He shrugged again and caused a ripple effect in Japan from those shoulders. “What kind of impression would I make on
a pretty girl if I said she’d only be mildly pleased?”
I chuckled. “Not a good one.”
“There you go, pretty girl.”
His compliment rolled over me like spun sugar. As sweet as cotton candy and gone just as quickly. “So, how do we do this thing?”
“You lean in and close your eyes. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“How embarrassing. Normally I’m the one making the first move. Not used to taking the back seat.”
“Relax and let me handle this, will you?”
Oddly self-conscious, I did as he asked and closed my eyes before shrinking the distance between us. A sound of approval rumbled in Fenton’s throat a split second before his lips closed over mine. And the world exploded.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My cover designer, Kim Killion...you are amazing! You caught the ideas swirling around in my head in a single image, a single proposition, and we ran with it.
My mother, Cathy, always there when I need her.
My editor, Deb. I heart you!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BREA VIRAGH IS A WRITER based in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia with degrees from Berea College and Nova Southeastern University. When she isn’t writing, her hobbies include binge-watching HGTV, scouring thrift shops for goodies, and maintaining her alpha status among her boyfriend, puppy, and three cats. A recipient of a 5-Star Writer Award from NY Literary, her work includes the Promise Me series, available online, as well as short stories published in New Realm, eFiction, and Conceit magazines.