Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Carson surveyed the scene in front of him while his brain tried to wrap itself around the fact that he was here, at Cloverfield’s Flurry Fest, with Liz. Never in a million years would he have had this situation on his bingo card, yet here they were. Together. With a common goal.
Sure, that common goal was to mess with people, but it was a common goal nonetheless.
He still wasn’t sure what compelled him to suggest it in the first place. In what universe was the two of them spending more time together a good idea?
Who was he kidding. It was the one where his testosterone was in charge. The image of Liz practically licking her lips when he put on his reading glasses kept flitting through his brain. And when she called him sexy? A guy could get used to that.
But when she moaned? With his hands on her? Damn. Yes, it was an innocent massage, but that sound was anything but innocent. It would stick with him for the rest of his life.
He needed to get out more.
Carson tried to dislodge his thoughts with a headshake then focused back on the task at hand. Flurry Fest.
He knew Cloverfield wasn’t the same town from his childhood. Knew it had grown, changed. But he hadn’t been prepared to be intrigued by it.
While the festival didn’t yet look to be in full swing, activity swirled around them. People bustling to finish setting up booths. Calling out to each other. Welcoming friends and inviting strangers to explore their wares.
Davis was right. Parking definitely would’ve been a bitch.
The town parking area near the coffee shop was converted into rows of booths.
The sidewalks in front of the downtown shops hosted tables of merchandise for sale, and the main streets of downtown were blocked off to allow pedestrian-only traffic.
Not how Carson would typically choose to spend his Friday, but given the circumstances, not the worst place to be, either.
Especially when he spied the donut booth. “Please tell me those are good.” Carson pointed across the parking area at the booth that already had a line.
Liz followed his finger and nodded. “Phenomenal. Remember Margie Pinkman who used to make donuts for all the local fundraisers?”
“Of course.” Her donuts had been a thing of legend.
Doughy bites of heaven. He’d never found anything even approximating their perfection.
“But she’d have to be what, two hundred years old by now?
” She was old when they were kids. If she was still alive, it would be a miracle.
Huh. Maybe the secret to longevity was a daily diet of donuts.
“Well, she died, but her grandson and his wife took over, and I don’t know how, but they’re actually better.”
“What? Impossible.”
“Swear to God.” Liz raised her hand in oath.
“This I’ve gotta see. And taste.” Carson started toward the booth, and Liz followed.
“Sorry we don’t have access to the golf cart,” Liz said. “Etta May already loaned it out for festival use today. You sure you’re up for being out and about?”
“As long as I don’t overdo it, I should be fine.”
“Well, tell me when you need a break.”
“Will do.”
The familiar scent of baked dough hit Carson as they got in line. “That smells good.”
The older man in front of them turned around. “Well worth the wait, I assure you.” His expression cycled from benign reassurance to surprise to something like excitement as his eyes bounced from Carson to Liz and back to Carson again. “Well, I’ll be. If it isn’t Liz and Carson back together again.”
“Hey, Walt,” Liz said.
Walt. From the hardware store. Carson mentally de-aged the man and immediately recognized him. “Walt Rawley,” Carson said. “Good to see you again.”
“You too. Heard you were back in town.” He took in Carson’s crutches and winced. “Heard about Dennis, too. Sorry about that. If it’s any consolation, Janice has been cited to within an inch of her life.”
“Walt’s on the town council,” Liz reminded him.
Right.
“The joys of small-town politics,” Walt added with a shrug. “Although if I have a choice between dealing with Janice and Dennis or making sure the town doesn’t slip into bankruptcy, I’ll choose the former.”
“Is that a possibility?” Carson asked.
“Always,” Walt replied. “Not in an imminent kind of way, but it’s not like we’ve got unlimited funding coming out our wazoos. Small-town budgets like ours need a lot of massaging and creativity. It’s a carefully created ecosystem that needs a lot of love and attention.”
Carson didn’t miss the knowing look Liz gave him. Nor did he miss the twist in his gut as he thought through the potential impact of losing his uncle’s business to the local economy. But he still knew change was inevitable. It didn’t necessarily need to be a bad thing.
“Next!”
Walt turned back around and stepped up to the register. “Hey, Todd. A dozen powdered, please.”
“Got it.”
Walt paid while a woman got his order together and slid a box toward him. “Here you go, Walt. Enjoy.”
“Oh, I will.” Walt plucked a donut out of the box and stuffed half in his mouth. A cloud of white powder dislodged from his mustache when he sighed. “Heaven.”
“Take it easy, Walt,” Liz said. “We don’t need you choking on a donut to kick off Flurry Fest.”
“Definitely not,” Todd added, giving Walt a rather dubious look.
“I can think of worse ways to go,” Walt said, shoving the rest of the donut in his mouth.
“Same.” Carson nodded in solidarity. Especially if the donuts were even better than he remembered.
Walt grinned. “Well, it was good running into you. Hope to see you around some more, Carson. But if you’ll excuse me, these donuts and I have somewhere to be.”
Liz rolled her eyes and asked Todd, “Is there a cutoff this time?”
“Nah. Thelma finally gave up. At least when it comes to festivals.”
“Probably wise. Walt has a bit of a cholesterol issue, and not much control when it comes to good food,” Liz explained.
Carson grinned. “Never would’ve guessed.”
Todd grinned back. “What can I get you?”
Carson slid his gaze to Liz. “Can we take care of half a dozen?”
“Oh. Easily. Three powdered, three sugared?”
“Absolutely.”
Carson nodded at Todd and whipped out his credit card.
“But you paid for the drinks,” Liz said.
“Yep, and I’m paying for the donuts.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Liz’s eyes narrowed. “Wait. Are you paying so you can eat most of them?”
“Would I do that?”
The rise of her eyebrow made Carson grin. “I promise to share. Fifty-fifty. Unless you can’t eat three. In which case…” He shrugged.
“You’ll take one for the team. Got it. So giving.” Liz rolled her eyes, stacked their coffee cups in one hand, and swiped the box off the counter with the other. “Unfortunately for you, I’m the one with all the goods.” With a dazzling smile, she took off.
“Hey! Get back here!” Carson crutched as fast as he could, which unfortunately wasn’t all that fast. But at least it was slightly easier than the past couple days.
Except when he had to maneuver around a giant pink squirrel who was stopped in the middle of the sidewalk asking for directions.
Damn thing’s tail practically knocked him on his ass.
“Seriously?” he asked, when he caught up with Liz. She was seated on a cement planter at the edge of the coffee shop’s parking area, their coffees and donut box next to her.
“I can’t help if you’re a slowpoke. Besides, space is at a premium.” She gestured to the empty spot on the other side of their food. “Had to find a seat.”
Ugh. He hated that she was right. He was a slowpoke.
And sitting would be easier. Crutches were exhausting, and they made simple acts like eating and drinking much more complicated.
“Thanks.” He eased himself onto the planter and carefully angled himself toward her.
“You guys get giant pink squirrels around here a lot?”
“Ummm, no. The Bontrager twins have been known to dye their poodle though.”
Huh. He was on the verge of asking additional questions when Liz handed him a powdered donut on a napkin.
“Cheers,” she said, gently touching her donut to his.
The gesture made him fight back a smile. He’d forgotten how easy it was to be around her. How much fun they had.
Carson took a bite of his donut and forgot everything else.
Damn. That was the best donut he ever had.
“You two need some time alone?” Liz asked.
“What?” he mumbled through a mouthful of perfection.
“With the way you’re moaning over there, I thought you might need a moment.”
“How are these better than before?” He took another bite, and this time he heard the moan himself. In any other situation he might’ve been embarrassed, but here? With her? And this donut? He didn’t care. Not like she hadn’t heard worse.
“Right? We’ve tried to get the secret out of them, but they’re not telling.”
“Is it crack? I bet it’s crack.”
Liz’s eyes darted around. “Shh. Do not go around telling people they put crack in their donuts.”
“There’s no crack in these donuts!” Carson announced.
“Shut up!” Liz swatted him.
“What? Make up your mind. You want me to tell people there’s crack in the donuts or not tell people there’s crack in the donuts?”
“Great. Now people are staring.”
“Probably because you have powdered sugar on your nose.”
“What? I do not.”
“Yeah, you do. That’s what you get for hitting me.”
She scrubbed at her nose. “I did not hit you.”
“Sorry, my mistake.” Louder, Carson said, “There’s no crack in these donuts, and you didn’t hit me.”
“Shut up!” Liz swatted him again, her eyes widening after the fact.
“See? Face it, karma for hitting an already injured man is gonna be a bitch.”
“I can’t help it! You’re infuriating.”
Carson took another healthy bite of donut and grinned. God, he loved getting under her skin. Loved the way her eyes flashed. Loved the pink hue of her cheeks.
Damn he’d missed it.
Sure he dated. Had sex. Had relationships. But they were short-lived. Surface level. And unfulfilling as fuck. Hell, he had more stimulating interactions with Liz in the short time he’d been back than he had in the entire time he’d been gone.
“Carson Atwell. As I live and breathe.” A woman with a slight hunchback and a headful of tight curls stared at him, hands on her hips, a wide smile on her face. “Thought you were done with us, for sure.”
Fear gripped him for the briefest of seconds while he racked his brain before it hit him. “Mrs. Randolph! Hi.” He attempted to stand up to greet his old algebra teacher, but she waved him down.
“Heard about you and Dennis. No need to get up on my account. So, you’re back with this one, huh?” She waved a finger at Liz. “Thought you had more sense than that.”
Carson patted Liz’s knee. “Sadly, when it comes to Liz, I have no sense at all.”
Mrs. Randolph grunted. “Well, I hear you’re doing great things. Keep up the good work.” She flicked her eyes to Liz. “Just don’t let your hormones get in the way.”
Liz kept her mouth shut until the older woman was out of earshot then swatted him yet again. “Seriously? You didn’t stand up for me?”
“Why didn’t you stand up for yourself?”
“You know she hates me. Why would I poke a hateful bear?”
“Because you’re you?”
“Thanks.” Liz’s tone said the opposite.
“No problem.”
Liz shoved the remainder of her donut into her mouth and chewed like her life depended on it.
It was cute. The way it looked like she was trying to murder Mrs. Randolph with her eyes. The way her cheeks bulged like a chipmunk as the donut filled them. The clump of powdered sugar that hadn’t quite completed the journey into her mouth and instead clung to her lips.
And her lips themselves. Inviting. Tempting. Intriguing.
Before he knew what he was doing, Carson found himself leaning closer. Unfortunately, there was a whole ass box of donuts, two cups, and a groin injury in his way.
Liz eyed him. “Uh, what are you doing?”
“You’ve uh…” He licked his own lips then swallowed past the sudden dry spot in his throat. “Got some powdered sugar on your lips.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed, and she followed suit, darting her tongue out to her own lips. “Did I get it?”
“Kind of.” His voice sounded raspy to his own ears. The way Liz’s tongue darted out again did nothing to help.
“How about now?” she asked, leaning closer.
“Uh…” Carson’s eyes bounced from her lips to her eyes and back again.
What started out as a clump of innocent sugar suddenly morphed into something much, much more.
Did she want him to kiss her? Was she simply trying to save face from walking around with powder on her face? Was there still something between them?
Movement in the corner of Carson’s vision snagged his attention, and suddenly, he was aware of the amount of people in their immediate vicinity. Of how many of them were watching him and Liz.
“We have an audience,” he murmured.
Her eyes locked with his, and a slightly evil smile spread across her lips. “Well then, I guess you’d better make it good.”
Good? Hell. He’d make it fucking great.