Page 53 of Not Exactly a Small-Town Romance

I refuse to regret pushing him. Something about Zachery is broken, but I can’t quite get to the heart of it.

His parents used the “busy rich” style of parenting, often leaving him with nannies or staff while they jet set around the country.

But he does have fond memories with his mother, which is why he knows so many show tunes. I wanted to tap into that, but apparently something in our musical conversation triggered him.

It’s about three hours of quiet until we pull up to the town in the throes of preparing for its Dillfest.

While I showered earlier, Zachery booked a bed-and-breakfast right on Main Street so we could walk to all the festivities. I didn’t think we would be able to get something so last minute, but apparently, it’s more of a local event than one that draws outsiders.

We had something similar in the small town closest to our dairy. It was called the Root ’n’ Toot, and as far as I know, they still hold it. Vendors sell roasted corn, deep-fried candy bars, and homemade jams. There are crafts for kids and a balloon-twisting clown and always a beer trailer.

They make the principal of the high school sit in a dunk tank so the kids can pay a dollar to pitch a ball at the mechanism that will drop him into the pool.

The principal during my years was so unpopular that we made more money than usual. In fact, we got to upgrade prom from a recorded soundtrack chosen by the home ec teacher to an actual DJ from two towns over.

The only drawback was he played too many songs that weren’t radio edits, and the same principal who paid for him with his students’ disdain pulled the plug. The last third of prom was relegated to the local country and western station piped through the intercom.

With that history, I know what I’m getting into as I slow down to let two teen boys cross the road from a small grocer to a park, where I presume Dillfest will be happening.

The bed-and-breakfast is ahead, pale blue with two stories and a white lattice trim.

A small sign hand-painted with the words VISITORSGOHEREguides me along a concrete drive to the back side. A matching sign saysPARKHEREagainst the outer wall of an old carriage house, meticulously restored to match the blue Victorian.

A woman leads two horses tethered to a beautifully preserved cart with a double row of seats and a canopy with fringe along the edge.

She’s dressed in a long pale-green skirt with a green-and-white-striped shirt, the sleeves puffed out at the top and buttons tight along her forearm. A green hat with a tall white plume sits beside her on the seat as she guides the cart out of the carriage house.

When she spots us, she pulls the horses up short and waves.

I roll down my window. “Hello! Wow! Look at that!”

“Isn’t it marvelous?” she calls. “Park right here. I’ll be down in a minute!”

I pull in by the blue wall. Zachery is not far behind me, and I watch the woman as she takes in his silver Jaguar, and then her eyebrows lift as she spots Zachery exiting the driver’s side.

Yeah, he’s pretty. And famous enough to light up a town like Dillville. I don’t know why I overreacted to his Ken song. I’m an idiot. This man has life on lock. He’s pulling up in a sexy car in front of a gorgeous woman who might actually start singing “I Cain’t Say No.”

No matter. I’m here to find my own meet-cute. And the recipient of my attention might be across the road, bringing a heavy sledgehammer down on a platform that will ring a bell for his superior strength. The giant teddy bear he wins will get handed to me.

So there.

I hop out of the car and move to the back seat to snag my overnight bag. I already packed my bear-winning, man-attracting yellow sundress, with cute white tennis shoes and a matching bow for my hair.

He’ll nickname me Sunshine, and we’ll walk arm in arm through the fair, sharing cotton candy.

I can feel it.

By the time I make it to Zachery, Miss Green Stripes has hopped down to talk to him, her cheeks flushed like she pinched them.

“You must be Kelly,” she says. “It’s not often we get Hollywood at our doorstep! Come inside.”

She can’t even get my name right. And Hollywood! I’ve been trying to fit in with the small towns like I used to.

I realize that Zachery is a liability. I can’t walk around with him if I want to shed my big-city glitz.

Why did I bring him on this trip?

I sling my bag over my shoulder. “It’s Kelsey.”

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