Page 52 of Fairground

Jenni lights up, and the two of them disappear into the crowd of kids and adults, chatting away like old friends. Meanwhile, I sink back into my seat, feeling the weight of Colt’s presence as he settles across the table from me.

"Is the pizza any good?"

"I wouldn't chance it unless you want a date with the toilet tonight," he says shaking his head.

"Good to know."

“So…” His voice is low, casual, but there’s a gleam in his eye that makes me instantly wary. I barely have time to brace myself before he leans forward and drops the bomb of his question. “Cash can’t shut up about you and now I need to know why.”

I blink, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, probably because I’m a pain in the ass, emailing him at all hours about this damn State fair. Two weeks left, and we’re still knee-deep in planning.”

Colt rubs his jaw, his scruff just enough to be noticeable. Where Cash’s beard is thicker, darker—a perfect black mask I may or may not have imagined rubbing against my skin—or sitting on—Colt’s is lighter, trimmed close to his face, more restrained. But the way he's studying me right now?

Yeah, not so restrained.

“Nah, that’s not it,” he says, his voice calm, almost amused. “My brother doesn’t talk about women. He hooks up with them. That’s it. No names, no stories, no mentions. Lots of inappropriate comments to me, but never to them.”

And that’s exactly when Molly reappears, sliding into the seat next to him. I feel trapped, pinned under the weight of their gazes from across the table, and suddenly, it feels less like casual conversation and more like an interrogation.

“Where’s Jenni?” I blurt, my voice an octave higher than usual. My mouth is dry, and I have to wet my lips because all I can think about is what happened with Cash the last time that I saw him down by the creek outside their home.

The orgasm I had in his lap still burns bright in my memory. I’m too scared to face him again because the way things were left was… weird. Why didn’t he let me take care of him too? Why didn’t he kiss me goodbye? Hell, the only kiss we shared was the first one. And then he’d lifted me like I weighed nothing, set me on his very hard cock, and made me feel like I was flying while I literally dry-humped his jeans to bliss.

How embarrassing.

And the worst part? I have no one to ask these questions to. Lydia’s gone MIA, probably off chasing kids or charming someone into a volunteer shift, and Laken’s been buried in work. Plus, she’d 100% judge me for hooking up with the town’s golden boy slash my not-so-friendly rival.

So here I am, left with exactly one option: Cash’s massive, ex-felon brother—who could probably break me in half with one hand—and his cop wife, whose eyes are so intense I feel like she’s reading my soul. It’s mildly terrifying. And yet, somehow, weirdly comforting. Like if anyone could handle my unraveling, it’s probably them. They’ve certainly seen some shit.

“Jenni’s playing with the kids,” Molly says casually, but the look on her face tells me everything. This is a set-up and I'm about to be under arrest if I don't tell them something. I wonder if she’d use the cuffs on me.

I feel like I’d enjoy that way too much.

My laugh comes out nervous and pitchy. “Oh, ha-ha, cool.”

Her eyes narrow, sharp as a knife. Maybe deciding to be friends with a cop wasn’t my best idea. A cop and an ex-felon—what a duo.

“Something happened,” Molly says, tapping her finger against her chin like she’s solving a murder.

“Nothing happened,” I squeak, my voice cracking like I’m a teenage boy at choir practice.

“It wasn’t a question. It was a statement,” she replies flatly.

Oh.

Shit.

Chapter 21: Rae

Colt, who I’d almost forgotten was sitting there with his quiet, tree-like presence, nods at his wife. “Yeah. Something definitely happened. And it’s not just about them working together on the fair.”

“Uh… maybe we’ve been getting along better?” I offer weakly. “Maybe that’s why you think something happened?”

“Nah,” he says, his voice as calm as ever. “When I got home from the distillery Wednesday night, there were two blankets tossed down by the creek. Cash always cleans up after himself if he’s been there. He’s courteous like that. He’d never leave behind a mess.”

Of course he is.

Of course, my thoughtful, annoyingly perfect rival didn’t clean up after weleft because we’d left in such a rush. He'd been flustered, I'd been shocked, neither of us had thought about the mess we were leaving behind as we walked to the golfcart to escape the awkwardness.

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