Page 62 of When Sparks Fly

Moving around the crowd, I situate myself beneath a tree providing some shade. It’s solid beneath my weight when I lean a shoulder into it and cross one ankle over the other.

Maci is totally in her element, oblivious to everything else going on around her. She works and I watch, entranced. Before long, a prickle runs along my neck. I scan the crowd intently.

Nothing stands out, and as quickly as the sensation arose, it vanishes. Something coils itself within me. A need to protect fiercer than I’ve ever experienced before. Maci is mine, whether she fully understands that or not, and I will not allow anyone or anything to hurt her, come hell or high water.

Chapter 27

Colt

Why do these motherfuckers insist on ruining a perfectly good day by gallivanting through town, looking at art and buying homemade jams? Fall does not need a goddamned festival. There’s zero reason to celebrate. It’s just a period in time.

My frustration is beginning to boil over at the number of streets closed for this stupid ass festival.The next pedestrian who walks out in front of me is going to experience what it’s like to be run the fuck over.

I’m about the turn, following a detour that hopefully gets me where I want to be, when I spot a familiar Jeep in the distance. I pause on the street and the vehicle behind me at the green light beeps its baby ass horn. That motherfucker gets the middle finger.

I decide to check things out. I’m already here.

The next lot is designated overflowing parking for the festival. Sure enough, it’s Maci’s Jeep parked in the first row. I bet she didn’t see me smoking out front when she first came into The Spur with Leah. She didn’t give me the time of day until I bought their round. Typical.

I wonder if she’s here alone. She’s probably on the prowl for her next cock.

Yet another reason I love this bike. I back it onto a grassy area under a tree on the opposite side of the lot from the Jeep.

The area is a madhouse. Kids with painted faces are running in every direction. Some moron in a striped outfit is selling caramel apples, and trying not to lose them all to the fucking kids constantly cutting him off. Funnel cake frying and Mexican corn mix in the air. Music plays from Town Square. I haven’t figured out if it’s live or not. All it does is add to all the damn noise.

I eye the booths momentarily.Where would I be if I was a slut on the hunt for dick?Instinct tells me to turn left. A block down I’m rewarded when the crowd seems to open up a bit. To the right is a trailer and people milling around. There’s a repetitive clicking sound. I make my way closer.

There she is.

Maci is squatting at the back of the trailer where the gate is flung open. Two kids with missing teeth sit on the blankets near the edge kicking their legs. They look like trouble-makers with unruly hair and gleaming eyes. Something I relate to.

A chick I assume is their mom is off to one side. She beams with pride like they’re the two cutest kids on the planet. They’re not, but I don’t care.

Maci moves around them for another minute, snapping photos with a large black camera. Then she stands and tells them how precious they are and how well they did. She’s bullshitting, but she’s decent at it. She chats with the mom for a few more minutes and motions to a table off to her left, further down the block from me. I wait for the family to walk off before I make my way over to see what’s laid out.

She doesn’t even notice me. Mostly because she’s honed-in on the next family and getting them situated—nice little gig she’s got going here—but also, because I cross behind her to her opposite side as she angles her body to where I had been.

The crowd is denser on this side and I blend in easily. As easily as a badass in all black can blend into a crowd wearing pumpkin spice banners as attire. And fucking plaid. Like there’s no other color available in fall.

The table holds an open photo album and some business cards. There’s nothing special about them. They’re white with a name on them. But there is a QR code which could come in handy. I’m not one to share my personal business on social media, but people make it easy to find them doing that kind of shit. I smirk and pocket the card.

I’m over this nonsense and about to leave when a swift movement from my right catches my attention. That fucking cowboy is coming up. He leans casually against a shaded tree, watching her like he has something to be proud of.Wait til she drops you like a sack of potatoes.

My blood is beginning to boil. Seeing this bastard grates on my nerves, but there are too many people here. I’ll find some other time to break this guy’s jaw. Better yet, maybe I’ll make him watch while I show him how wet Maci gets for me. That oughta really grind his gears.

A satisfied smile spreads across my face as anticipation dances beneath my skin. At least I have something fun to look forward to soon.

I’m heading back the way I came, further into the crowd so I don’t have to deal with the cowboy prematurely, when Leah comes running up from behind me. She doesn’t notice me either, which isn’t surprising since the only thing I’ve seen her pay attention to is Pete. I don’t even understand that. Dude is a wet noodle.

She yells something at Maci, and I swear it sounds like, “Maci Grace McCullough,” but that can’t be right. I stop in my tracks and stare.

Leah babbles on. That chick is all words and hand motions. Or hair flips. She’s fucking hot, but she’s also really annoying. Maci doesn’t seem bothered. I guess she’s used to the annoyance.

I yank the card from my pocket.Southern Grace Photography.No last name.

Alan only mentioned her by name once or twice. That bitch he married was a McCullough before she took his name, though. Maci Grace isn’t a run-of-the-mill name, especially in this town. It has to be her. I can’t believe I didn’t realize sooner.

My excitement around claiming Maci in front of that cow-fucker is overshadowed by anger. If there wasn’t an audience here, I’d grab her by the ponytail and drag her out with me. That slut took everything from me. She’s going to pay.

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