She pulled out a towel and re-wiped the same section of the bar. “Never mind. A good thing happened to me today. You want some peanuts?”
He glanced down from the TV again. “I…yeah, I do. I didn’t know you had that here.”
“It’s new. Leonard’s open to anything that’ll get people to drink more beer.”
“Sounds about right. Sure, bring them over.”
She grabbed the burlap sack of peanuts from the back storeroom shelf, which created a small cloud of salty dust. It felt like she’d been at work for an hour, but a glance at the clock only said fifteen minutes. It would be a long shift, and she already knew she’d be thinking about her date tomorrow night the whole time.
Chapter Six
When Chelsea arrived at the carnival the next night, she expected him to be still inside the booth, collecting tickets and handing out balls, but instead, she found him sitting on a large stone near the house of mirrors building, within sight of his booth. She was so used to seeing him in casual clothes that she had to give him a double take.
He wore a short sleeve polo shirt. Its soft, baby blue color contrasted with most of what the other carnival employees were wearing, as many of them seemed to compete with each other on how they could wear the brightest or busiest clothing.
As she walked up, he stood and shoved his hands into his khaki pants pockets. “Hey, Chelsea.”
“Hey yourself. I parked on the other side this time to avoid the weeds.” He gave her a look, and she realized he didn’t know about that part—the burrs and ointments and all that.
“That’s good,” he said. “My relief came a little early, so I had a chance to change.”
You sure did. It was strange seeing someone else in his booth. Sure, she hadn’t known him all that long, but it seemed like his, where anyone else would be a poor substitute. It really wasn’t a fair fight, though. He was a walking contradiction of fitting in perfectly with the carnival yet not being exactly like them. He was different, a category of his own, from the healthy, packed lunch to the way he ran his booth.
“So, where are we heading for dinner?” She couldn’t imagine there was a lack of choices with all the different food options there.
“I decided I want something more interesting than ham sandwiches for us. I’ll show you.”
He gestured to the base of a small hill not far away. Calling it a hill was a bit complementary, almost a large bump in the field, but it looked like there was a seating area pointed toward a raised platform, maybe two feet off the ground.
“This food cart makes the best hot dogs. You probably think I’m a hypocrite, because of what I said about healthy food, but who doesn’t spurge now and then? Besides, a hot dog is healthier than a fried candy bar, right?”
“I’m game,” she said. “What do they do over there?”
“The stage you mean? There’s a guy traveling with us who does storytime. Sometimes he tells stories, and sometimes he does a show for adults, like singing songs and playing instruments. His last job was for a medieval fair company. He wore puffy sleeves and strummed those little guitar things.”
She grinned. “A little guitar thing, huh? Was it a lute?”
“I don’t know what it’s called. It’s too small for a guitar, but it’s not like a ukulele. It’s not that high-pitched. If we see him, I can ask him. He helps out with other things in-between stories.”
The food cart looked an awful lot like the one she and Sophie had purchased the cotton candy from, but in a different spot. Maybe they were all the same type and model, just with different types of food. This one could have cotton candy too, for all she knew.
“So what do you recommend?” she asked.
“There’s all kinds. You can get a Chicago style, or a New York style, or a Wisconsin style…there’s something like two dozen types he can make.”
She had no idea what any of those were. They all sounded pretty complicated. “How about just a normal hot dog with ketchup? Do they have those?”
He raised his eyebrows. “I mean, if you want. But where’s the adventure in that?”
He had a point. As hard as she tried to break out of her routine sometimes, she often came up short. She needed to put herself out there and go for new things. “Okay, I’ll try one of the crazy ones. How about the Wisconsin style?”
The satisfied look on his face made it all worth it. “Good choice. Hey, Kicker. Keeping cool today?”
Kicker?
As if reading her thoughts, Nate said, “Long story. He played football in high school.”
“It’s not too bad,” Kicker said. “Better than last week. That town was hotter than devil’s spit. At least this place has some breeze. Hello. Who’s this?”
“This is Chelsea,” Nate said.
Kicker flashed a thumbs up. “Good. Good. It’s about time.”
Nate grimaced. “Easy, Kicker. Chelsea’s from here. She played my booth and almost won the top prize in one go. She’s pretty good.”
“So,” Kicker said, “What can I get you both?”
“We’ll have a Chicago and a Wisconsin,” Nate said.
Kicker turned and reached into a container with a sliding lid. “Windy city and a cheesy. Got it.”
As he worked on the order, Nate reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. This was always the point where Chelsea wondered if she should offer to pay for her half. It felt like the right thing to do, but she wasn’t quite sure what the context was. Was this an official date, where the guy usually wanted to pay? She wished she could ask just so she’d know.
Kicker handed over the first hot dog, which she assumed was for her, because Nate passed it over. She stared at the hot package in her hands for a good ten seconds. The thing looked so foreign that she didn’t know where to start. First of all, it had two hot dog franks side-by-side, and second, it didn’t come with a bun—more of a firm roll. As strange as it was, she couldn’t stop her mouth from watering.
“You can pay for the nice lady if you want,” Kicker said, “but I won’t let you pay for yours. Not this time, anyway. You paid for my share of the pizza when we went to that place in New Mexico, remember? I never paid you back for it.”
Nate nodded. “Hey, I won’t argue there. You can make all the hot dogs free you want.”
The sound of Kicker’s laugh bounced off the walls in the tiny structure as he continued to work on the second order. She swore she saw him chopping up tomatoes, but that couldn’t be right. “Just this once for now. I ain’t no Santa Claus.”
“You’ve got the stomach for it,” Nate said. “I doubt it’s from cookies, though.”
“Yeah? I can still kick your ass, just as long as I don’t gotta run…or walk too fast. Or no stairs.”
It turned out she was right, and a way she never hoped to be. There was an entire garden on Nate’s hot dog. First off, there were tiny cubes of tomato running up and down either side joined by a long pickle resting along the top, like a green spine. She also spotted bits of something vegetable but had no idea what they were.
“So what do you like about the Chicago style?” Chelsea asked.
“Easy,” he said. “I get everything in one go. It’s practically a multivitamin.”
“I can see that.”
They made their way over to the seating area and plopped down on the metal benches, the ones that folded up for easy transport. The sun had passed the halfway mark, so it didn’t bear down quite as much at that point in the day. Kicker was right, there was a nice breeze, and that certainly made a difference.
“What are these?” she asked, pointing.
“Cheese curds. And it looks like you have some onions and pickles too.”
With a finger, she eased open one side of the roll and saw he was right. The deeper she went into it, the more ingredients she found. She’d never look at hot dogs the same way again, but there still was a small place in her heart for plain ketchup.
She took a bite, and flavor burst in her mouth.
She’d never had cheese curds at all, by itself or on something, so that was new. It didn’t quite overshadow everything else, but it did have a strong contrast. The hot dogs or franks—whatever they were—had the most flavor, giving off a subtle, smoky tone.
“What do you think?” he asked.
She was still working over her first bite, but she shoved it into her cheek enough to respond. “It’s pretty good. I could get used to this.” She finished chewing. “Is it nice to be done for the day?”
“Yeah, it is. Although it’s pretty easy, so I wasn’t in a rush to be done.”
“You don’t exactly have a boring, necktie job. Better than filing taxes for people, I suppose.”
He finished another bite. “Exactly. Although, to be honest, I looked forward to the end of my shift today just so I could see you.”
She didn’t consider herself the blushy type, but she dabbed a napkin against her lips and covered more of her face than she needed to, just in case. “Me too. Was it busy today?”
“Not too bad. It gets a little crowded at night, but it makes the time fly by.”
She angled a little bit more to face him. “I have to ask. Is the game rigged at all?”
She wasn’t quite sure what reaction she expected, but she certainly didn’t expect him to burst into laughter. “What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He wiped the corner of his eye. “I knew you would ask the question. I just didn’t know how long it would take before you did. I get asked all the time.”
She tapped her fingers together. “Well, is it?”
“To be honest, it usually is. The owner of the carnival does a lot of things like that—adding weight to the pins, lightening the balls, and stuff like that. I’ve even heard of more extreme stuff than that. It’s a terrible thing to do, so I don’t come close to any of it.”
“You don’t do anything to the pins?” she asked.
“Not a thing. What you see at my booth is what you get. Normal weighted pins and balls. There’s nothing tricky about the angles or the stacking.”
“What does the owner think of that?”
He shook his head. “He hates it. I get in trouble all the time for making it too easy for people to win.”
“I don’t get why they would want to cheat people out of their money.”
“I know the feeling. We don’t exactly get written up here, but I received another warning about it just last week. Too many people on my shift won prizes, and he didn’t like that. What’s so dumb about the situation is that those prizes aren’t exactly worth a million bucks. Even with more winners, the booth would still be plenty profitable. I mean, if you get a group of guys coming in who all want to outdo each other, it can rack up the tickets pretty quickly.”
An onion fell off the hot dog and landed on the table. Thankfully, she’d placed the wrapper flat like a plate, a catch-all for everything, which turned out to be a good idea considering how many toppings there were. She picked it up and popped it into her mouth.
“Is that why you cautioned Sophie and I against keeping at it and buying more tickets?”
“Part of it. I know that some people can dump their money pretty quickly. I just didn’t want it to happen to you.”
She frowned. “But you said the same thing to Sophie.”
“Sure. I didn’t want it to look like I was playing favorites. Although, I easily could have.”
Smooth. “Well, I appreciate that you were thinking of me…us.”
It took her awhile to finish her hot dog, maybe because she enjoyed it so much. He had his empty wrapper crumpled up by the time she was just over halfway through hers. He eyed a nearby trashcan and curled the wrapper into a tight ball, throwing it like a basketball. He sunk it in cleanly. If it were an actual regulation basket, she would’ve heard the net swish.
The table groaned as he rotated positions, and he sat backward on the bench, leaning back against his elbows on the table. One would think he surveyed a placid mountain lake at sunset with the way he deeply breathed in and out. Especially considering all the times a guy had showed impatience while she’d gotten ready for a date, she appreciated how he waited patiently. He didn’t say a word or lift a finger that indicated at all that he was frustrated or irritated at how long she took. She couldn’t help but notice. So far, he was getting good grades.
“That was delicious,” she said. “A lot better than I thought it would be.”
“At least you’re honest. I’m glad you liked it. I don’t know if there’s a master chef title for a hotdog maker, but if there’s one, it would be Kicker.”
She walked over to the garbage can to deposit her wrapper. She didn’t trust her basketball skills as much as he did. That, and it was darker by that point. “Looks like I’m all done,” she said, wondering what might happen next.
He held out his arm, and she instinctively slipped hers in. They continued walking away from where they had come from, closer to the small hill. While she thought she’d heard voices coming from there while they had been eating, it was completely empty now.
“They do storytime up here you said, right?” she asked.
“You got it. He takes breaks every hour to rest his voice. I timed it so we’d be in-between shows.”
She hadn’t even noticed him checking his watch. “For what?”
“You’ll see.”
They shuffled forward through the grass on the hill, and she was thankful none of those plants with burrs made an appearance. As soon as they reached the stage, he hopped up and offered his hand to help her. She grasped it, and he pulled her up with surprising ease. Her hand grabbed a little further than just his palm, and under her fingertips, she could feel the ripple of his forearm muscles.
“It’s right over here,” he said as he guided them to the edge of the stage.
She’d never seen anything quite like it. It was beautiful.
Chapter Seven
The darkness revealed every pinprick of light scattered across the carnival, delivered by every flashlight, lamp post, strung light, and colored bulb. She hadn’t seen this much color since she’d visited her relatives in the Midwest during Christmas, where many of their neighbors competed with each other on how brightly lit they could make their houses.
From that angle on the hill, she could see over the top of most of the rides, and even in the cases of the largest ones, she was eye level with most of them. Every few moments, a wave of laughter or screams from a ride would float up to her. She saw and heard the excitement of the carnival, but all she smelled was freshly cut grass and the scent of Nate’s cologne.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I love it.” Her voice was a touch breathless. “It’s so bright. We live in the desert, so we’re used to drab colors. But this is something different altogether.” It was like a little slice of Las Vegas.
“The owner wanted to use modern lights, but I talked him into using those old-school Christmas lights—you know, the ones with the round, fat bulbs. I think they have a better look to them. More nostalgic.”
She sat down on the edge of the stage, still facing the view. “I think you made a good call. Do you come here often? If it were me, I’d be up here every night.”
He sat down next to her. “Sometimes. Usually, everything’s flat, so we don’t get a view like this in every town. There must be something special about this place.” He glanced up at her, and she noticed how deep his brown eyes were, like two pools of chocolate she could easily drown in.
She cleared her throat. “I guess so. Well, I’m glad to hear it.” She placed her hands behind her and leaned back.
He did the same, but he spread his right hand a little farther so that his fingers brushed the top of hers. For a moment, she thought he might lift them away, but he didn’t. They felt so warm.
“I am too,” he said.
“So how much longer do you see yourself traveling with the carnival?” She winced inside. That was a bit of an obvious question.
>
He tilted his head forward. “I’ve thought about it.”
“And?”
“I’m still thinking about it. I have a lot of options. Hell, we visit dozens of towns every tour. Any town has got to be better than the one I left behind.”
That tickled her memory. “Is that why you started in the first place?”
He sighed. “Not exactly. I joined because I needed a fresh start.” He paused. “I went through a pretty nasty breakup. I thought she and that guy were friends, but apparently it was more than that. She still stayed in the town I lived in, and it was getting hard to be around. Her whole family and circle of friends lived there, and for the most part, mine didn’t.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. That must’ve been hard for you.” She felt for him. It was the most genuine expression she’d heard from a man in a long time. He was either a very open person, or he trusted her enough to tell her all this.
“It was. Joining the carnival was exactly what I needed at the time.”
She imagined everyone felt that temptation at least once in their lives. It was running away with the circus, so to speak, although in a literal sense with him. He had a good reason for it, though. I don’t blame him one bit. I might’ve done the same.
“You know, one door closes and another opens. I really believe that,” she said. “That door probably closed for a reason, but there’s another one waiting to open for you. I know it will.”
“Thank you. That means a lot to me. I usually don’t talk about this with many people, even ones I’ve known for years, but for some reason, I feel I can with you. You’re really easy to talk to.”
“You are too. I’m glad we got a chance to talk tonight.”
He grinned in that cute way where only one end of his mouth went up. It was a boyish expression on a mature man. “Even though it meant you had to eat a crazy hot dog first?”
She shoved his shoulder with a laugh, but with all her effort, he didn’t budge an inch. “It wasn’t that bad! I mean, it was good. What I’m trying to say is that it wasn’t all that crazy. Different, but not crazy. Sometimes I like a little different.” And he couldn’t be more different than my norm. Somehow, that made him all the more appealing.
Carnival Ride: A Sweet Romance (Red Canyon Series Book 2) Page 5