Page 41 of Scent of Home

“Yeah, let’s go back to your place and eat.”

“But the races!” Alma shouts.

I freeze in the motion of turning away. My shoulders curling in. I forgot. How could I have forgotten?

“You’re right, Alma,” I say to the tiny old woman who brushes past Locke and grips my arm. “We’ll stay for the races and then go back for dinner.”

Erin and Shane side-eye me, but I don’t take my eyes off the woman holding my wrist. She could break in a stiff wind. Her t-shirt looks like a dress, and her feet swim in her sandals. Rheumy eyes stare up at me with a shrewd intelligence. The woman is easily half my size, but she’s a typhoon. She looks like she’s dressed for summer, not spring, in Twin Rivers. Still, Alma is a long-time resident, one of the oldest. She was good friends with my grandfather.

“You can’t leave, we need you here,” Alma coos and pulls me with her very little strength. I allow her to guide me across the road. The others follow, but I can see they aren’t happy. Regret and guilt twist, but I keep my attention on Alma, following where she leads. I have responsibilities and commitments.

“Alma, slow down!”

She gives me a severe frown. “What are you doing, hanging around the likes of Brayson?”

My mouth opens and closes as I try to think of something to say. “He’s hanging around Erin and Locke, who I am showing around here. It’s nothing.” I feel like I’ve been caught stealing or doing something equally as bad.

“Finn, I worry about you sometimes. You are too good. Too kind. The town’s been talking. We’re worried.”

“Bray isn’t going to hurt me.”

“No, but he will lead you into temptation and wickedness. We’ve seen bad seeds like him before.”

Something aches deep inside, and my face burns as I fight not to look over my shoulder.

“I’m not going to be swayed. Listen, I’m simply helping some paying tourists enjoy our festival,” I hiss.

Alma searches my face. “All right, I hear you. Just remember your parents, rest their souls. They would want better for you.”

I wince, and that guilt becomes a noose.

We turn off the main street and walk down AppleBee road until we’re standing on the bridge. The shore on either side of the river is covered with cheering people. I lean on the rails as Alma wanders off, wishing I’d never seen her. Wishing we could be back at my resort.

Erin plonks herself beside me. “What are we watching?”

“This is the biggest ball’s contest,” I say and can’t not smile as I watch the entrants rush down the bank of the river. We have two rivers. This one runs on the left of the town and is much deeper, though not as wide. It’s named the Lauren River. The other is the Laurel River. The Laurel is the one that cuts through my family’s land. About half an hour’s drive away from our mountains, those two rivers join and become the Laura River, one of the biggest water sources in this region.

Erin watches all the men plunge into the water, and her eyebrows shoot up. “I want to say maybe you named this event wrong.”

I snicker. “So, the point is to prove one’s virility, endurance, and strength by plunging one’s entire body into the icy depths.”

“Sounds insane. Did someone put something toxic in the food down here? Hallucinogenic?” Erin mutters.

A guy gets in deep, dunks his head, lets out a shriek that has me laughing so hard I have to lean on the rail, and promptly runs out of the water.

“Marbles,” Erin whispers to me.

I snicker. “Peas.”

Shane is on my other side, staring down impassively.

“You should go prove yourself, Shane,” Erin says with a winning smile.

Shane frowns. “Why would I need to prove myself?”

I shake my head, but my smile stays. I’ve never shared an event like this with anyone. Normally, I’m watching over it or organising something, I don’t get to enjoy it.

“Because I want to see you without clothes on,” Erin purrs.

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