Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
As much as it galled him to admit it, interacting with so many blasts from his past while getting sugared up on baked goods and perusing the wares littering the sidewalk sales was not the worst way to pass time. Especially not with Liz by his side.
While the goal of his kiss was initially to give the townsfolk something to talk about, he wound up not being able to get it out of his head. How soft her lips were. How her momentary hesitance quickly dissolved until she was the one taking charge. How he liked that she had.
Then there was the way she ran her fingers through his hair. As if easing his fears. Massaging away his misgivings. Making him feel like it was okay they hadn’t yet solved his uncle’s troubles. That he wasn’t sure his “fulfilling” life was actually all that fulfilling.
And making him feel better about wasting so many years being mad at someone who hadn’t really done anything wrong.
Before he knew it, it was time to relieve Arnold at the Digit Defender booth. Relief flooded his uncle’s eyes when he spied them. “Thank you. Mervin’s been bugging me to get over to The Busted Gut for a pregame shot.”
“They have liquor at the Busted Gut now?” Carson asked.
“No. Sausage gravy.”
Arnold gave them a quick rundown on the booth while Carson tried not to gag. “A sausage gravy shot? Before singing?” he asked after his uncle left. He didn’t remember much from his gen ed biology courses, but he did remember that dairy was a big-time mucous producer.
“Yeah. We keep trying to tell them about the whole dairy-mucous connection, but…” Liz shrugged. “Not like they’ll be winning any awards anyway.”
“Are they not good?”
Liz leveled him with a look. “Mervin is tone-deaf, and half the time one of the Johnson twins forgets his hearing aids.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
“And they let them sing? In public?”
“I think they bring more money in by getting people to pay for them to stop.”
“Ah. Maybe they are onto something.”
Liz shrugged again. “Possibly. We haven’t gotten complaints as a committee. Other than from Mabel.”
“Chicken gang Mabel?”
“Yep. It seems the guys’ singing sends Big Bertha into a tizzy, and Mabel has trouble calming her down for the next few days.
” She glanced around and dropped her voice.
“I know for a fact at least twice a month Eli lets the Croonafellas use his backyard as a practice space, and they sing through the fence.”
“Ah. Nothing like a good old-fashioned spite sing.”
Or a good old-fashioned thumb wrestling competition, apparently.
Carson had to admit that when his uncle initially described the premise of the Crawford’s Manufacturing booth, he was somewhat ambivalent.
Two opponents, each with a Digit Defender in place, wrestled not only to trap the other’s thumb, but to steal their rubber.
But he’d underestimated the competitive spirit of the Flurry Fest attendees.
The determination on the faces of the competitors.
The good-natured name calling and taunting between old friends.
The cheering when a green and purple polka-dotted lizard furry took down Walt despite the lizard only having three available furry digits.
A particularly raucous crowd was dispersing after having watched the old high school principal get his ass handed to him by his own grandson when Clem sauntered up to the booth.
A satisfied grin stretched across her face as her gaze bounced back and forth between Carson and Liz.
“Nice to see you figuring out your purpose, Carson.”
“Um, thanks?”
Liz turned to him, her eyebrow raised in question. “Is your purpose yelling at people as they try to annihilate each other while thumb wrestling?”
“One, it’s called encouraging, not yelling, and two, maybe?” Carson wasn’t sure what Clem was referring to.
Seeing the confusion on his face, Clem continued, “The Major told me all about it.”
“Ugh. The Major,” Liz muttered. Frowning at him, she added, “Wait. You’ve been talking to the Major?”
Carson’s shoulders bounced in a shrug. “Not so much talking to him as him randomly showing up and asking questions.”
“As well he should.” Clem gave an emphatic nod. “I’ll have you know his questions are some of the most insightful I’ve had the pleasure of answering.”
“Well, good for you,” Liz said.
Clem skewered her with a glare. “You can pretend to be angry at me all you want, Liz Pierce, but deep down you know the truth.”
“If you mean that you’re a meddling busybody who—”
Carson clamped a hand over her mouth. “—knows exactly what she’s doing.” Liz tried to murder him with her eyes, but he merely smiled. After all, they were supposed to be on the reconciliation train, weren’t they?
Clem clapped her hands while bouncing on her toes. “Oh, yes. This is good. And here I was beginning to think we were wrong.”
The look Liz gave him was a big, fat, What the hell is the matter with you?
“Here,” Clem said, stuffing a five dollar bill into the jar on their table.
Liz flexed her fingers and swiped Carson’s hand from her face. “Oh, it’s on, Clem.”
“Oh, no,” Clem said. “You’d break me in two faster than you could say soul mates.” She held up her hands, showing off delicate bird-like fingers.
“Exactly,” Liz muttered.
“I’m paying for you to wrestle each other.” Clem wagged her finger back and forth between Carson and Liz.
“Ooh, I didn’t know that was an option,” Pete said as he stopped next to the booth. He pulled out his phone and tapped away before placing it back in his pocket. “I’ll take five on Liz.”
“Five on Carson,” shouted someone from the booth next door.
Judging by the pings of phones and the gathering crowd, Carson was fairly certain their impending thumb war just became a side bet. He let a slow smile creep across his face as he turned toward Liz. “You ready for a beatdown, Pierce?”
Liz matched his grin with a maniacal one of her own while putting on a show of stretching her digits. “Ooh, breaking out the last names. Bring it, Atwell.”
“Consider it brought.”
Carson smirked at Liz as they donned their armor—a green Digit Defender for him and a purple one for her—then took their places across from each other at the little table someone set up to resemble a mini wrestling ring.
Tension hung in the air, gathering force as Pete yelled, “Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the fight we’ve all been waiting for! In this corner, wrestling with the green Digit Defender as well as his own demons, is Carson Atwell.”
Carson gave his former friend a raised eyebrow and a shake of his head.
“And in the purple corner,” Pete continued, grinning at Carson before pointing at Liz, “is Liz Pierce. Friend to all things Cloverfield, and a local celebrity!”
Liz beamed as the crowd cheered.
“Let’s get ready to wrestle!” Pete crowed.
Arms on the table, they curled their fingers and hooked them together. “Get ready for a naked thumb, Pierce.”
Liz’s eyes sparked, and her gaze sharpened. “In your dreams, Atwell!”
Tension hung in the air, gathering force as Pete began the familiar chant. “One! Two! Three! Four! I declare a thumb war!”
Carson’s body tensed as his eyes locked on his purple opponent. Watched for an opening. Waited while her thumb twitched. Left. Right.
“Make a move, Atwell!”
“Shut it, Pete!” he called back, eyes still trained on purple.
Come on, Liz. Aha! There! Her thumb suddenly twitched forward, and he went in for the kill.
Clamped his thumb down on hers. Had her pinned.
Until he didn’t. Before he knew what was happening, she rolled out from under him and somehow managed to get on top.
Damn, was she strong. No matter how much he tried, he wasn’t able to wiggle out from under her grasp.
At least, not until she managed to strip him of his green protector.
The crowd let out a mixture of celebratory whoops and disgusted utterances as Pete lifted Liz’s arm. “Winner and still undefeated champion!” Pete shouted.
Carson eyed Liz as she shimmied around the table. “Wait. What do you mean ‘undefeated champion’?”
“Oh, did we forget to mention that Liz, here, is the five-time champion of the thumb wars?” The innocence on Clem’s face belied the twinkle in her eyes.
“Yes, I believe you did,” Carson drawled.
“Wouldn’t have mattered.” Liz smirked. “I would’ve smoked your weak thumb anyway.”
“Ringer,” he muttered.
“Don’t hate the player. Hate the game.” Liz grinned.
Carson wasn’t going to lie. He kind of hated them both at the moment.
Although if he was honest with himself, it wasn’t so much hate as it was something else.
Something he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Something more like determination. Desire.
Like he wouldn’t mind wrestling her again.
With more than just his thumb. And without all the people watching.
He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed their banter. How her competitiveness turned him on. How dangerous something as simple as a thumb war could truly be.
“Wow, Aunt Liz. That was amazing!” A young girl with Liz’s same dark hair bounced with excitement as she high-fived Liz.
“Thanks,” Liz replied.
“Is that him?” The girl craned her neck to get a better look at the other inhabitant of the booth.
“If by him you mean the humiliated loser who must now bow to my obvious excellence, then yes. This is him.” Liz tugged the girl over to Carson. “Carson, this is my niece, Emily. Squirt, this is Carson.”
“I told you not to call me that,” Emily replied, almost as if on autopilot, while her eyes remained firmly on Carson. “Wow,” she breathed.
In spite of himself, Carson felt a grin work its way across his face as he held out his hand. “Nice to see you again, Emily. The last time I saw you, you were barely walking.”
Liz caught his eye and grinned back then had to nudge her niece forward and lift her hand. “And this is how we shake hands…”
Emily blinked, her eyes widening as pink stained her cheeks. “You want me to touch him?”
Liz pressed her lips together and helped her niece complete the hand shake.
“Sorry about her,” said a man a few inches taller than Liz with her same coloring. “She’s in the fun stage of discovering boys.” He gave Carson a chin nod. “Hey, man. Heard you were back in town.”
Carson noticed Liz’s brother skipped over anything close to welcoming him back to town or saying it was good to see him again. Not that he could blame him. If Carson had a sister who’d gone through something like what he’d put Liz through, he wouldn’t be rolling out the red carpet either.
“Hey, Trent.”
“Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?” All eyes zeroed in on Emily, and he wasn’t sure which of them seemed more surprised by her question. Judging by the look on her face, Emily was just as surprised.
“Uh…” Carson scratched the back of his neck while he waited for someone else to either confirm or deny the request.
Trent studied his daughter, then Liz, then Carson before glancing at Liz again. “Sure. We’d love to have you.”
“We’re making tacos,” Emily added.
“How can I say no to tacos? As long as I’m not imposing.”
Following a brief and silent sibling conversation, Trent said, “Nah, man. No imposition at all.”