Page 32 of The Ex-cavenger Hunt

With a flick of my wrist, the beanbag launches through the air, landing with a thud against metal. One by one, the cans topple in a metallic waterfall, and I let out a victorious cheer. “Did you see that?” I beam, turning to Ethan with wide, expectant eyes.

“Remind me never to challenge you to an arm wrestle,” Ethan chuckles, clapping his hands in mock surrender.

The game operator grudgingly hands me the prize—a stuffed bear with a red bow tie. I hug it tight, its softness pressing against my chest, and then thrust it toward Ethan. “For you, kind sir, a token of my undeniable skill.”

“Ah, Lady Harper, your generosity knows no bounds,” Ethan teases, giving the bear a faux gracious bow before taking it from my arms. For a moment, we’re just two kids again, caught up in fairground fantasy.

“Come on, let’s grab some snacks. I’m starving,” I say, tugging at Ethan’s sleeve as we leave the clatter of the booths behind.

We make our way to a nearby stand where the aroma of kettle corn hangs thick in the warm evening air. As the vendor scoops the golden popcorn into a striped bag, I can’t help but salivate, my mouth watering at the sight of the glistening kernels. Ethan orders two oversized cups of lemonade, and once our hands are full, we find a worn wooden bench to take a load off.

I sink onto the bench, feeling the rough wood beneath my thighs. “Here’s to us, conquering the carnival games,” I toast, raising my cup before taking a long sip of the tart, sweet lemonade. The cool liquid slides down my throat, quenching my thirst and leaving a pleasant aftertaste on my tongue.

Ethan’s eyes sparkle with amusement as he grins, his dimples making a brief appearance. “Here’s to your freakish aim,” he retorts, clinking his cup against mine. We munch on the kettle corn, the sugary crunch mingling with bursts of salt. The combination of flavors is heavenly, and I can’t resist reaching for another handful.

The fluffy kernels melt in my mouth, coating my tongue with a delightful sweetness that’s perfectly balanced by the subtle saltiness. It’s the ultimate carnival treat, and I find myself savoring each bite, letting the flavors linger before swallowing.

As we sit there, enjoying our snacks and each other’s company, I can’t help but feel a warmth spreading through my chest. It’s moments like this that make me realize how much I cherish our friendship. But there’s a nagging voice in the back of my mind, reminding me that friendship might not be enough.

I glance at Ethan, taking in his strong jawline and the way his hair falls over his forehead. My heart skips a beat, and I quickly look away, afraid he might see the longing in my eyes. I can’t risk ruining what we have, but the desire to be more than just friends grows stronger with each passing day.

Chapter Twenty

Ethan

As I push open the heavy oak door of the inn, a wave of warmth washes over us. The hinges creak slightly, adding to the vintage charm. “Wow,” Lily breathes out beside me, her brown eyes widening in wonder. I can’t help but agree, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth despite my travel-weary state.

The place is like something out of an old romantic comedy or a Hallmark movie, all soft golden lighting that casts a warm glow over the polished wood floors and plush armchairs upholstered in rich jewel tones that practically beg you to sink into them. Intricate tapestries adorn the walls, their threads telling stories of times gone by.

I catch Lily glancing around, the designer in her no doubt cataloging all the charming and quirky touches—a vintage gramophone here, a stack of worn leather-bound books there, an antique globe beside the stone fireplace. And permeating everything is this inviting aroma, like cinnamon and cloves and something else wonderfully comforting, wrapping around us like a well-worn cashmere blanket.

I breathe in deeply, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders. Lily glances over at me, her lips curving up. “This place is incredible,” she sighs, her voice warm with appreciation and contentment, conjuring up thoughts of lazy Sunday mornings tangled in soft sheets and the rich, familiar scent of coffee.

“It’s charming,” I concede, sighing because I was afraid that the pictures on the website were just stock images bought from some website to make sure suckers like me will travel all the way out here.

We make our way over to the check-in desk, our shoes sinking into the plush rug. Behind the polished oak counter stands a woman with silver hair pulled back in a neat chignon, her eyes bright and welcoming behind tortoise-shell glasses. She smiles warmly at our approach.

“Well, hello there. Don’t you two make a lovely couple,” she trills, her voice like a songbird’s. “Checking in, are you, my dears?”

“Oh, we’re not—” I start to correct her assumption, but she’s already pulling up something on the computer, her brow furrowing slightly. “Name, please.”

“I made a reservation, two rooms under Montgomery. Ethan Montgomery.”

“Hmm, I see we only have you down for one room, loves. Let me just double-check that . . .” She taps away at the keyboard, the clacking of her coral-pink nails filling the momentary silence.

I dart a glance at Lily, reading my own startled expression mirrored on her face. One room? Surely there’s been some mistake. Before either of us can clarify the situation, the woman looks back up with an apologetic smile.

“I’m afraid that’s all we have available at the moment, my sweets. Our Whispering Willows room, with a nice king-sized bed. Perfect for a cozy couple’s retreat.”

She says it so certainly, so matter-of-factly, that I find myself just nodding dumbly, not quite processing this unexpected development. Beside me, Lily seems similarly thrown off balance, a faint pink blossoming on her cheeks that I’m sure matches my own.

One room. One bed. For us, together. Oh boy. This trip just took another fucking detour . . . What am I supposed to do now? Sleep in the RV.

I would if I hadn’t left it back in Denver and rented a car to drive up into the mountains. Hindsight, you cruel mistress.

“Are you sure there aren’t any other rooms available?” I press, trying to keep the edge of desperation from my voice. Because honestly, I don’t think I have it in me to ignore Lily, especially if she’s going to be sleeping right beside me, close enough to touch.

I’ve been exceedingly well-behaved so far on this trip, keeping my hands and thoughts to myself, but I’m not sure I have the willpower to maintain that gentlemanly resolve much longer. The next time we’re that close, skin nearly brushing skin, I’m probably going to give in to the temptation to kiss her senseless—and maybe even more if she asks me nicely, looking up at me with those big, imploring eyes.

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