18. Lottie
eighteen
Lottie
The float is so much smaller than I expected.
Mom’s been planning this for months, and she made it sound like we’d have a huge semi-trailer, but this is basically a small flatbed pulled by Ham’s truck.
I settle on a hay bale—because Mother thought they’d be festive—and wedge between her and Bodan’s very solid arm.
I have one hand wrapped tight around Cinnamon’s ribboned leash.
Of course, my mother thought it would be good for her wholesome branding to bring one of the goats.
I was stunned she even suggested it, because hello—has she seen what kind of trouble they get into?
But I know better than to argue, and I loaded up Cinnamon, because she’s the best behaved of the three.
Down deep, part of me thinks this is going to be hilarious.
Before I know it, the red, white, and blue bunting flaps against the trailer, and we inch forward in the parade lineup, the unforgiving July sun beating down.
We barely start moving when Cinnamon rears on her hind legs, her front hooves skidding toward the edge as if she’s ready to launch into the crowd.
I can’t imagine how insane my mom would go if that happened.
“Oh no, you don’t,” I hiss, pulling her back just as she tries to leap.
Bodan laughs. “She’s feisty. Kinda like you.”
I give him a look, but he only grins wider. I’m not really into the random flirt attempts. I’m glad they’re rare; he’s professional. But ever since we held hands on that stage, he gives me the ick. I turn away.
My mom clears her throat, her glare drilling into the side of my face as she subtly nudges me closer to Bodan. “Remember to stay in character. People are watching,” she murmurs through a smile. “Try to act like you’re in love.”
“What do you want me to do?” I mutter through clenched teeth, my distain for her lying scheme boiling over. “Make out with him in front of everyone?”
Her smile stiffens. “No. But you need to sell it. You could at least hold hands.”
That’s when Cinnamon headbutts my mom square in the butt.
Exactly what I was thinking about doing.
Man, I love this goat.
Yep. I couldn’t have planned it better.
She yelps as her foot slips, her arms flailing backward in slow motion. Gasps ripple through the crowd as she tumbles right off the trailer, landing in a heap of patriotic streamers. The spectators hush, then rush forward to ensure she’s okay.
Call me cruel, but I’m laughing.
I can’t stop. Laughter bubbles out of me like it’s been waiting my whole life for this exact moment. She’s clearly not hurt. Her pride will be bruised, but honestly? It’s worth it. She needs to be put in her place. I’m giving this goat a hoof massage later because she just made my year.
While I’m laughing, Bodan seizes the opportunity to hero up. He hops down from the float and goes straight to my mom, helping her to her feet. “Hey, Senator Halloway, are you okay?”
Cameras are going wild, people crowding in from every angle, and my mom smiles at them all, milking the attention. “I’m fine, everyone.”
Bodan helps her back onto the trailer and then rejoins me at my side. His hand finds my arm and lingers there. I want to roll my eyes. Instead, I let him touch me, but I turn the other way. My mom looks like she might combust, but the photographers are eating it up.
“Seriously, this is fun,” Bodan says quietly, leaning in. “I’m having a great time. Thank you for inviting me. You’re amazing at what you do.”
I open my mouth to respond when Cinnamon comes to my rescue, choosing violence again. This time she clamps her jaws on Bodan’s pressed blazer sleeve.
“Sorry,” I say, tugging her back. “Apparently, she doesn’t like anyone today.”
“Yeah, sometimes sorry isn’t enough.” He tries to laugh, but it's clearly fake. I let his odd reply hang in the air. It strikes me that if he were Ty, he would have told me not to apologize. I don’t hear what Bodan says next, because something catches my eye.
Not just something, but someone.
Walking alongside his teammates is Ty. Sunlight hits his summer tan just right, and he looks so unfairly handsome as he smirks at the crowd. He carries a hockey stick, shaking hands with as many people as he can as he moves along. Then he gets distracted and looks my way.
For a second, our eyes meet.
I forget where I am.
I forget the cameras.
I forget Bodan’s arm brushing mine.
Unfortunately, Bodan uses that moment to slide his arm around me. Tyson must see it, because his gaze jerks away.
At this point I want to elbow Bodan—even though he’s doing his job.
Thankfully, I don’t have to use any force, because Cinnamon jerks the leash again, pulling me away enough that we’re no longer touching.
I wobble as my heart races and grip the leash as tight as I can, since Cinnamon is doing everything in her power not to behave.
I force a smile for the crowd, but nothing about it feels happy.
Of course, the one guy I have feelings for is watching me fake date someone else while I wrangle a rebellious goat in front of the entire city.
Can this get any more ridiculous?