Page 50 of Maverick Mogul

He’s looking at her in that dress in a way I know very well.

“Mmk,” I mutter. “Keep it movin’, Robin Hood.”

“Charlie!” Grace swats my arm. “Let them do their bit!”

“Thank you, milady.” The guy bows quickly, then stands to offer a basket of flowers. “May we tempt you with our wares?”

“Absolutely,” Grace says, before I can talk our way out of the sales pitch. She’s already digging into her purse. “I’d love one of those crowns.”

I shove a twenty into the guy’s hand, and Grace rolls her eyes at me before choosing a daisy chain. “Thank you, kind sirs.”

“We’re actually here for a wedding,” I tell them. “Could you point us toward the private event grounds?”

“Ah, yes,” the little goatee guy says. “Up this lane and to the right, past the biergarten and the stables. You’ll find your abodes past the tree line.”

I pick up both our bags, and we head toward the luxurious, white fabric tents. There are other guests milling around, but no one I recognize just yet. A large sign on an easel directs us to Tent 8, which Grace spots, pulling back the entry curtain.

“Oh, wow,” she breathes, stepping in. “This is magical.”

The tent is enormous. White canvas billows above us, and there’s a beautiful vintage rug beneath the bed.

The only bed.

Grace and I seem to realize this at the same time. She mutters something that sounds like, ‘I’m going to kill Jen’.

“We could— ” I begin, and she blurts out, “Look around? Great!”

So, I guess we’re dealing with this later. We’re adults; we can share mattress space. Will I lie awake all night, sweaty with thoughts of touching the woman next to me? Probably. But it’s doable.

Either that, or I’m bedding down in the stables tonight.

We dump our bags, and go stroll through the faire. Grace is like a kid in a candy store, taking in all the activities and vendors. “Archery! Glassblowing! Men with long pointy sticks!”

“Jousting,” I correct her with a smile, and maybe her enthusiasm is infectious, because I’m having a pretty good time, too.

“Hey look, it’s Poppy and Dylan,” Grace says, and waves over to them. “Hey!”

They stroll over to join us. “Didn’t you get the dress-code memo?” I ask, teasing. They look too city-chic for the Ren Faire, Poppy in a simple black dress and Dylan in his Ray-Bans.

He chuckles. “I’m delaying the inevitable.”

“Don’t be fooled,” Poppy grins. “He looks great in a codpiece!”

“Ahem,” Dylan protests. “No padding required.”

We laugh. “What are you up to now?” Poppy asks.

“Just taking it all in.” Grace replies. “I’m getting seriousKnight’s Talevibes from this place. Rest in peace, Heath,” she adds.

Poppy loops her arm through Grace’s.

“Come with me. I want to try archery without being heckled by the peanut gallery here.”

“I wouldn’t,” Dylan protests, but the girls are off without another word.

“Knock ‘em dead, Katniss!” I call after Grace.

Dylan turns to me with a meaningful look. “So…” he starts.

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