Page 33 of Something Borrowed

“So, what are you in the mood for?”

She stifled a groan. It wasn’t so much what she was in the mood for, but what her stomach could handle, and she didn’t see much choice in front of her. Not that she would ever admit that to Grady, or anyone. So she hedged instead.

“Up to you.” She shrugged. “We need cheap and quick.”

“We have time. We could almost dine instead of stuffing our faces quickly.”

She snorted. “Fine. But it’d better not put us too far behind. What did you have in mind?”

He escorted her around the first trucks and down the row, scanning, then discarding options with a mumble. Finally, he stopped in front of a truck. “This will do fine, I think. Would you agree?”

Dread accompanying the usual pain in her stomach, she looked up. “Gyros?”

He grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I thought they’d be less stressful on your stomach than fried food or spicy stuff.”

She smiled, charmed despite herself. “Taking care of me again, Grady Coughlin?”

He winked. “That’s my job, isn’t it?”

He ordered her a gyro and grabbed himself a sausage, pepper, and onion grinder and joined her at a picnic table. They ate quietly, listening to the fair music and the chatter of people around them. She’d never been a big fan of Greek food, but the gyros were actually pretty good, filling and soothing on her stomach, mostly. She finished and wiped her mouth and eyed Grady and his grinder.

“How can you eat that? Even without stomach problems, that would kill anyone.”

He popped the last piece into his mouth. “But, oh so good. How was your dinner?”

She looked at the receipts and frowned. “That dinner was too expensive. We’re going to have trouble solving the rest of our list with no money. I could have lived with something cheaper.”

“Well, I couldn’t.” He wiped his hands on a napkin. “So, what’s next on the list?”

“We have to win a prize, a stuffed animal.”

“Well, that’ll be cheap. One ticket, one prize.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Awfully confident there, cowboy, aren’t we?”

He grinned a lazy smile. “I’m good with my hands.”

She shuddered. He certainly was, in so many ways. And just like that, her arousal, that she thought had been put on hold since the morning, was back in full force.

* * *

Six dollars and no stuffed animal later, Brigid was getting bored and frustrated. After another dart fell to the ground, missing the balloon yet again, Grady growled, glaring at the kid manning the booth. Brigid smothered a grin and tried to drag him away.

“Maybe we can find something easier for you to do. We can’t afford to lose much more money.”

“Those aren’t regular balloons. They’re extra strength, heavy-duty balloons, and these darts are not sharp enough.”

“Right,” she agreed, no longer hiding her laughter.

He stopped and folded his arms in front of him, looking like an obstinate toddler. “If you think it’s so funny, then you try.”

“Fine. If it will shut you up and get us out of here.” She stalked to the ticket booth and bought one ticket.

She positioned herself, legs shoulder width apart, and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, focusing on the balloon waving gently from the breeze generated by the fan the kid had supposedly to keep him cool. She suspected it was designed to screw with the players. Any cooling effect was a pure side benefit.

She raised her arm and, with a flick of the wrist, tossed the dart at a balloon and it bounced off the wood wall behind it, falling to the sawdust on the ground. She cursed softly, and Grady laughed.

“Told you it wasn’t easy.”

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