Page 3 of Stripped Down at the Fair

Or don’t. I wanted as few people around as possible. That might give me a reason to strike up a conversation with the caricaturist.

I was all too aware of her as I knelt to check out the very spot I’d fixed just two days ago. Sure enough, the bolt had wiggled its way loose again. I tightened it within an inch of its life, but that was only a temporary fix. It would probably work its way out again. No, I needed to get to the root cause.

And that was how I ended up spending a good hour tooling around with the mechanics of the Tilt-A-Whirl. The beauty was nearby, which meant I was battling distraction every step of the way.

Finally, the repairs were done, and I stood, sliding the wrench back into its slot on my belt. That was when I turned and made direct eye contact with her for the first time since our initial meeting.

“Hi,” she said.

“Between customers again?”

I dropped my gaze to her easel. Part of me wanted her to have been drawing me the whole time I was working.

“It’s blank.” She lifted the oversized notepad as if she needed to prove that to me.

I couldn’t help but smile. “I thought you liked to practice between customers.”

I had to admit I was disappointed that she’d been staring down at her phone the whole time, not even paying attention to me. Okay, so I’d given the appearance of being so absorbed in my work that I’d forgotten she was over there, but I’d been all too aware.

I crossed the small distance between the Tilt-A-Whirl and where she sat. No sign of my boss in either direction, but I didn’t want to linger too long. Word would get out.

“You travel around with the fair?” I asked.

I really had no idea how this sort of thing worked. I’d gone straight from a military base to a cabin in the woods. The only interaction I got most days was with the others on my crew, and they weren’t exactly talkers.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” she said. “No, I live a few hours away, and my cousin told me about this fair when I saw her last winter. She has a friend who lives here.”

That was a lot of information. None of it really answered the question, but I figured she’d get to it in time.

“I’ve been looking for a way to make money off my art. We don’t have anything like this in Springfield.”

That surprised me. “You don’t? I figured fairs like this went through every town.”

“I guess not.” She shrugged. “What about you?”

“I’m a local. Work on one of the construction crews. My boss had this opportunity to make a little extra money.”

Actually, it wasn’t extra money. I’d make the same working at one of our regular sites in town. But it was too complicated to explain why I needed a change of scenery.

She pointed to the Tilt-A-Whirl. “It looks like they might need your help full-time with that thing.”

I turned to look at it. One of the workers had gotten it fired up again, and a line was already forming.

“I think I got it fixed,” I said. “For now.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “So, you’re going for a ride on it?”

“Hell, no. I wouldn’t ride on any of these.”

“Well, that doesn’t give me much confidence.”

She was still seated in front of that easel, but there was a twinkle in her eye. She was definitely flirting with me, and that had my entire body standing at attention—especially one particular part.

“I wouldn’t want anyone I cared about to go on these portable rides,” I said. “All it takes is one missed screw, and the whole thing…”

I shuddered. No point in going any further. She knew exactly what I was saying.

After verifying my boss wasn’t nearby, I returned my attention to her. “Do you get a lunch break?”

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