Chapter Nineteen #2
‘Lee,’ I said with caution. We’d both heard the stories about how it took the pharmacist and his wife three days to get the chocolate out of their hair last year. ‘Pick another job for him.’
‘No.’ Bryce stood his ground. ‘Give me directions, and I’ll do it.’
Lia ignored my searing look and walked him over to the table where we’d set up the dipping station.
Not more than ten minutes later, Mo showed up with vats of melted chocolate and set them out near the table.
The veins in Bryce’s neck pulsed like he knew he was in way over his head.
It was the opening I needed to get him and his prying eyes out of here.
‘Hey. We’ve got this. Why don’t you walk around the festival? Go to the main tent and see the enormous vegetables the locals grow.’
‘Nope. I’m here to do a job and’ – he inched closer – ‘I like watching you work.’
He stared at me with those stunning blue eyes, and I lost all damn thought until Lia cleared her throat. ‘I need more peppers.’
‘Right. I’ll grab them,’ I said.
Bryce walked over to the dipping station, and my gaze veered back to how well those jeans fit him.
‘Dani,’ Lia barked, knowing all too well where I was staring. ‘Peppers.’
Dammit. How did that keep happening? I ignored the heat in my cheeks and tossed a few in her direction.
The music outside changed to an upbeat song, and we all bobbed our heads as we made the final preparations for the kids.
I was back to slicing apples when Aster bounded into the tent.
Her hair was back to its silvery blond, the edges dipped in a vibrant magenta shade. A canvas bag was tucked into her side.
‘Where’ve you been?’ I asked.
A wide smile blossomed on her face, and she whipped a handful of cotton out of her bag. I tried not to snort at the horror in Lia’s eyes. ‘What the hell have you done, Ast?’
With an impish grin, she unfurled the material to reveal three cotton-candy-pink coveralls. Each of our names were embroidered in baby-blue thread on the left pocket.
‘Aren’t they cute?’ she squealed. ‘And look at the back!’
Makin’ Magic with the McGuires spread across the material in a swirly cursive script.
Lia let out a pained groan. Bryce smiled but did a good job of not reacting.
‘Wow, Ast! That’s something!’ I said, unable to contain my laughter.
Lia’s jaw tightened. ‘Absolutely not!’ She lowered her voice. ‘You know how I feel about… pink.’
Aster pushed out her bottom lip. Gave Lia that little frown she hated. ‘Do it for me, Lee Lee. I don’t ask you for a lot. And these are practical. This way we won’t get fruit and vegetable juice and chocolate all over our clothes.’
She turned to Bryce. ‘Sorry, you’re on your own. And stop being an asshole and talking to the couples I’ve matched. It’s starting to piss me off.’ She blew him a kiss that morphed into the middle finger.
This time he laughed even as Lia shook her head. Aster dug her feet in. ‘Wear it or I’ll tell Clo you’re not cooperating.’
For the last few weeks, Lia had complained to Clo that she was too busy to help at a booth during the festival.
That she needed to help man the SAR tent.
Answer questions for potential volunteers.
Clo informed Lia she would help without reservation or face our grandmother’s wrath for a good long time.
Lia could stand up to most people in town, but she always withered when it came to Clo.
Lia held out her hand. ‘Fine but remember payback’s a bitch.’
Aster slapped it onto her palm and then handed over mine. Together the three of us slid the pink coveralls over our clothes. Bryce grinned at the entire spectacle.
Yep. We were definitely giving him fodder for the article.
‘Selfie time!’ Aster said with way too much glee.
Bryce held out his hand. ‘Here, let me take it.’
Aster handed over her phone, tugging us both in before saying in a rare sharp voice, ‘Lia, you’d better smile.’
After snapping at least a dozen photos, Bryce handed Aster back her phone.
Lia, still grumbling, pointed Aster to a square card table near the tent’s entrance.
‘Start setting up for the balloon maker. She left laminated pictures of what she can make. According to her, having a limited number of choices helps the kids make their selection quickly.’
She set her bag down and flounced to the corner.
An hour later, the sound of a steel triangle being rung signaled the opening of the festival.
Lia pulled in an uneasy breath, and I patted her shoulder.
‘Come on, this will be fun.’ She gave me a half-smile and I wanted to shake her.
Insist that she tell me what was making her act like a grumpy bridge troll, but before I could push again, a swarm of eager children flooded our tent.
Over the next two hours, the McGuire girls and Bryce did an odd sort of dance, skirting around each other as we helped with art projects, chocolate dipping and swallowing back laughter as the sweet older woman making the balloons sang funny songs as she worked, many of which were inappropriate for kids.
Think sea shanties laced with a ton of salty language.
At one point, Bryce started singing along in a deep baritone, which the children loved.
Our lunch replacements arrived at noon. I explained the general rules about the stations to the teenagers. Told them the best place for their phones was in their pockets, because they were about to be covered in chocolate and a variety of fruit and vegetable juices.
When we left the tent, I had to squint as the bright summer sun hit us. Aster dashed off to check on the staff at her store, while Lia insisted she needed to talk to her friends at the SAR tent.
I stretched my arms and tilted my head left and right. It’d only been two hours. How was I already exhausted? I saw at least thirty animals in a full day at the clinic, but kids hopped up on sugar and late-summer fun were something else.
I closed my eyes, pulled in a deep breath, until the sound of rattling ice caught my attention. Bryce handed me a large cup. ‘Iced tea. After that’ – he flailed his hands at the tent – ‘I thought you could use it.’
Once I’d drained the glass, he cocked his head to the teeming streets. ‘Want to walk around? I could use a personal guide for the event.’
I glanced back at the tent. Those kids were going to eat the high schoolers alive.
‘If you want to make sure I write an honest article, it’s your job to show me the festival. Unless you’d rather have me talk some more to the shop owners. Get their take on the town’s history. I think Mo said she had a few more details for me.’
Oh, he was evil, because he knew the last person I wanted him talking to again was Mo.