Page 29 of Simply Yours

“I’ve sold one,” she admitted, arms crossing as she prepared for the inevitable teasing.

“Two now,” he corrected, fishing out a few bills and handing them to her.

She didn’t take them. Instead, she met his eyes, unwavering, unimpressed. “No,” she said, voice flat. “I’ve sold one—officially—now.”

The grin slid from his face like butter on a hot skillet. He hesitated, eyes scanning hers, searching for a joke that didn’t exist. “Oh,” he murmured, the playfulness in his tone vanishing. “Dang, Caitlin—really?”

“I’m trying,” she shrugged, lowering her voice as she leaned in slightly. “Look around, though.” She gestured with her chin at the bustling crowd, at the way people clutched greasy paper bags filled with pork cracklins, fried pies, and funnel cakes—food that smelled sinful enough to make someone forget their diet and their dignity.

“People are in line for all the good stuff. And me? I’m stuck down here in the dead zone. Oh, and bonus—I’m getting plenty of side-eyes from the people waiting for the kissing booth.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

Matthew followed her gaze, frowning as he took in the setup. “Ohhh,” he echoed, drawing the word out like he’d just now put the pieces together. A small line creased between his brows, and for the first time since sauntering over, he looked genuinely concerned. “I guess they didn’t think about that when they planned this out.”

“Yeah,” she muttered, studying his face carefully. “I guess next year I’m gonna have to ask to be near the Morrisons so I can push my bread with their homemade honey butter.”

“That would be smart,” he nodded, but then his expression shifted, brightening. “But you’re near the kissing booth,” he pointed out, far too cheerful about this fact.

She turned her glare on him. A glare so sharp it could have peeled the label off a soup can.

“That’s a good thing,” he pressed on as if his optimism could outlast her patience. “I mean, when ol’ Mabel gets done puckering up—you could step in.”

Her face twisted in disgust. “I’m not kissing anyone.”

“You could kiss my brother.”

And just like that, her already frayed patience snapped. She sucked in a sharp breath, eyes flashing with something dangerously close to fury.

“And have my heart trampled on further? No, thank you.” The words came out like venom, hot and bitter, and she nearly slapped the loaf of bread right out of his hands when he started waving it around like a magician’s wand.

Matthew stilled. He had the decency to look at least a little sheepish, but not enough to make up for what he’d just said. Her stomach twisted. A new, far more unsettling thought took root.

“You didn’t have anything to do with me being down here—did you?”

Silence.

The kind of silence that saidmaybe he had.

Her heart thudded hard in her chest.

“Did you?”

And this time, when Matthew didn’t answer right away, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Oh, he was in so much trouble.

Caitlin barely had time to react before Matthew thrust the loaf of bread toward her again, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper, thick with incredulity.

“It’s thekissingbooth,” he hissed in disbelief, holding out his hand again – with the loaf of bread – and hit the mayor in the shoulder without batting an eye as he continued speaking to her in a hushed voice as he gestured wildly. “Kissing.Kissing, Caitlin. Peoplelovekissing, heck, I love kissing, and kissing booths make peoplehappy. Happy people buy bread. Happy peoplespend money. My brother spends money when he’s happy,andif you kissed him then…”

Caitlin’s breath hitched, and she shoved her hands onto the counter of her makeshift stall as if grounding herself.“I’m not kissing Jason.”

Matthew’s head snapped toward her, his eyes narrowing.“Why not?”

She clenched her jaw, feeling the heat crawl up her neck.“We’re not talking about this.”

Matthew took a deliberate step closer, pressing the issue with maddening persistence.“Why?”

Her fingers curled into her apron.

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