Page 97 of The Enemy Face Off

We finally shuffle off, Beth cradling her new pink reading bear into her chest, me three pounds lighter from sweating so much. I swear that thing was rigged.

"I love it. Thank you," she says, lifting on her toes to kiss me on the cheek as we walk away from the ring toss from hell.

"You loved seeing me suffer," I say, tugging her into my side.

"I did not." She giggles, and the sweet sound infiltrates into my bones. "That was just an added bonus."

"Are you hungry?" I ask.

"Sure. I could eat."

We make our way over to the food stands.

But something's amiss.

"This doesn't seem right," I say, on the lookout for corn dogs, funnel cake, and cotton candy but only seeing a variety of international cuisines. Don't get me wrong, they all smell delicious, but I've got a hankering for some good old-fashioned fair treats. "Where are the corn dogs?"

"Blame Doyle," Beth says.

"The guy who runs the grocery store?"

"That's him. He's also town selectman, so he oversees all this stuff. And just so you know, he can be a massive pain in the you-know-what, so either stay on his good side or try to slip under his radar."

"And what does Doyle have to do with me not seeing any corn dogs?"

"He went to an inclusivity workshop recently and decided to incorporate international cuisine only."

"So, what? No American cuisine, then?"

Beth grins. "I think that may be the first time corn dogs have ever been referred to as cuisine, but yeah, sorry, you're out of luck."

"I'm boycotting that man's store," I grumble. "Come on. Let's see what they do have."

Ten minutes later, we're sitting at a table with an assortment of dishes laid out in front of us—gyros from Greece, a sliced-up Banh Mi sandwich from Vietnam, Spanish Paella, and some Japanese octopus balls.

"So, how am I doing?" I ask around a mouthful of seasoned lamb and pita bread.

She finishes chewing her Paella. "Doing?"

"Yeah. First-date wise."

"You want me to rate your first-date performance?"

"I do."

"Why?"

"You're basically the queen of romance, so I want to see if I need to up my game."

She snorts. "Queen of romance, hardly." Her eyes widen. "AnnndI just snorted."

"You snorted adorably. Romantically."

"That's not a thing. And there's no need for you to up your game, mister. You're doing great." She lifts her one hundred sixty dollar pink bear as evidence. "Just…just keep being you. And let's steer clear of all the hokey first-date topics."

"Like,So tell me, what do you like to do in your spare time?"

"Exactly." She smiles. "Or asking about birthdays and star signs."

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