Chapter 10
Fifth Weekof Faire : Food and Wine Weekend
The turkey legs were out of control.
Another satisfied customer walked past the bookstore, ripping into a juicy turkey leg, leaving the smell of roasted meat trailing behind them. Lilian managed to suppress a groan. Her stomach did not.
“You should go get one, if you’re so hungry,” Margo said from the doorway.
“I’m trying to limit my intake of faire food,” she huffed. After a few weeks of packing her own paper bag lunches for the faire, it was getting harder to resist. But eating greasy, fried faire food all the time would take a toll on her wallet. And she needed to save every dollar she could.
Margo shrugged. “Suit yourself. But Wine Weekend only comes once a year.”
“I think that’s only half of the theme for the weekend.”
“Is it?”
Lilian bit the inside of her cheek to keep her smile in check.
Food and Wine Weekend. Another fan favorite for the guests, as well as her and Margo.
Local wineries from three surrounding states came to set up tastings for interested visitors.
Restaurants tried their hands at the faire’s competition for best roast pig, most elevated Renaissance meal, and the best medieval desserts.
Historians were called in to educate the masses on what real Renaissance royalty ate.
Not to mention the bar crawl that slunk across the faire in the evenings.
People loved visiting all seven taverns on the faire grounds, escorted by their own parade and served by the bar wenches.
As a wench herself one year, Lilian knew things often got rowdy. But never unsafe.
“I heard Food Network is here this year,” Margo said, jarring Lilian out of her hunger spiral.
She gasped. “No.”
“Yeah. They’re doing a special on fun food festivals. King Rothbury is losing his mind about it.”
That didn’t surprise her in the least. The king was already strict about trying to protect the sanctity of the faire. Having actual expert judges would certainly make anyone stressed out.
“I wonder if Hawk is feeling the pressure.”
“Feeling the pressure about what?”
She nearly jumped out of her skin at the question. Her eyes immediately went to the doorway, but Hawk’s familiar tall shape wasn’t there. She turned to the window and saw him leaning in, his monstrous metal clipboard in one hand and a pair of sunglasses perched on his elegant nose.
“What are you doing there?” she asked. “Were you… spying on us?” Not long ago, she might have meant it as a real accusation, but the words didn’t have any serious bite.
He snorted. “Hardly. I was walking by when I heard my name.”
“Is it true?” Margo interrupted. “Is the Food Network here?”
He frowned, but gossip around the faire was its own kind of beast. Not even the tyrant prince could stop the tidal wave of rumors from traveling around. “A show from the Food Network is filming here. Yes. But that shouldn’t concern you.”
“I only want to walk by,” Margo said. “Just two seconds on camera, so I can claim to be on TV.”
“No,” Lilian and Hawk said at the same time.
She blinked, shocked that, for once, she agreed with the manager. She cleared her throat, adopting a gentler tone. “Margo, you’ve already taken your break, and I need you here.”
“Come on,” her friend pleaded, “this place isn’t busy right now. I could go get you something to eat.”
On cue, Lilian’s stomach made a noise that resembled a garbage disposal. Blood rushed to her cheeks. There was absolutely no way Hawk hadn’t heard it.
The offer was tempting. The sad turkey sandwich she’d packed for the day was nothing compared to an actual hot meal. And she’d managed not to eat out as much and was being diligent about leftovers.
No, she reminded herself. Every penny counts.
“I can get you something,” Hawk offered.
Both women looked at him.
“Really?” Lilian winced; she knew it sounded rude, but hearing the offer from Hawk of all people had caught her off guard.
He frowned at their disbelief. “Sure, I have to head over to the food vendors anyway. And I can sneak into the back and grab you something quick.”
Margo gasped. “You’re a line cutter?”
“I’m not cutting anything.” Hawk held up his clipboard as if it were a badge of honor. “Another benefit of the job.”
Yeah, I’m sure they love having their manager come in and demand a meal. Lilian knew exactly what the vendors thought of Hawk, but the offer still stood. And it was tempting.
“Okay,” she agreed, reaching for her purse. “Could you get us a turkey leg to share?”
“Easy,” Hawk said, waving away the twenty she offered. “You don’t have to pay me. I’ve got it.”
“No. Take it.” Lilian leaned forward and slipped the bill into the front pocket of his polo. She gave the bulge of fabric a quick pat, smiling. The muscle underneath was… firm.
Her hand snapped back at the thought. Ew, no.
She did not admire Hawk Carlisle’s pectoral firmness!
There was no universe where she was going to be indebted to him.
The fact that he'd even offered at all still puzzled her, but she had bigger things to worry about. Maybe it was pity, after seeing the state of her bookshop. Maybe not. Either way, she didn’t care.
Her stomach growled again. That was her first concern.
Hawk looked like he wanted to protest but wisely thinned his lips instead. “All right, I’ll be back.”
“Hurry,” Margo cried as he disappeared down the road. They watched until he crested the hill before turning to one another. “What do you think that was about?”
“I honestly have no idea.” Lilian turned to the fantasy bookshelf and distracted herself by rearranging the children’s section. Hawk was definitely not the kind of guy to offer to buy lunch for any of the other faire vendors. And what had he been doing outside her window?
The sight of his tall frame leaning over it like some roguish hero in khakis was laughable.
Hawk returned to their shop within thirty minutes, a glistening turkey leg in hand.
“Here you go.” He pushed it to Margo in a stiff, business like hand-off.
Then he turned that same stiff attention to Lilian and gave her the change.
Their fingers brushed, letting her feel a delicious lick of heat from his skin.
“Thanks,” she said, unsure how much gratitude she was willing to show outwardly. Her stomach made the decision for her with another low, monstrous bellow. Her face grew hot in embarrassment, but Hawk graciously acted as if he hadn’t heard a thing.
“No problem. I have to go check on the camera crew.”
“Try to lure them over here for us,” Margo suggested as she licked her fingers and handed the turkey leg to Lilian. “We could use a little extra exposure.”
“It’s the Food Network,” Hawk reminded her, deadpan.
“They can get some shots of me putting away a turkey leg.”
He rolled his eyes and walked away without further barbs.
“Huh,” Margo said once he was out of earshot. “Was it me, or was he not as annoyed as I would have expected?”
“He definitely seemed… different.” Lilian bit into the turkey leg.
It had a local glaze of Kansas City BBQ sauce, which added a flavor of spice to the meat.
The leg was cooked to perfection, falling apart in her mouth as she chewed.
She refused to rush the bite, taking the time to savor it instead before she continued talking.
“Must be because we have cameras here today. That’s good marketing for the faire.
I’m sure they gave him lots of numbers and contracts to look over. He loves that kind of stuff.”
“He does?” Margo raised her brows. “Since when do you know what he loves?”
“Well, uh…” Was that a nonfiction book on the shelf with the children’s fantasy? Not on her watch. She bent down and diligently removed the misplaced specimen. “He’s been helping me with the bookstore. That’s all. He knows a lot about business and marketing.”
Margo snatched the book out of her hands, forcing Lilian to meet her bewildered expression. “You’re cavorting with the enemy?”
“There is no cavorting,” Lilian said. “He’s only come over once, where he unsurprisingly bossed me around and told me I was screwing everything up.”
“He came over?” Margo’s voice pitched into a squeak.
“To Ten Cents,” she clarified. “Only because I asked for his input on business.”
“And now he’s getting us turkey legs.” Margo drew out the sentence like Sherlock Holmes analyzing a clue.
Oh, no. Lilian could see exactly where her mind was going, and she was putting a stop to it. “He’s… being helpful.”
“Three weeks ago, you couldn’t say a single nice word about the man, and now he’s being helpful?” Margo pointed out. “What changed?”
A lot. Now that she thought about it, Hawk had encouraged her to do the Sunday show.
He’d apologized, he’d given her honest advice about the bookshop.
He didn’t have to do any of that, and Lilian had to admit she appreciated the effort.
Sure, he still had the personality of a cactus, but they weren’t best friends or anything.
“He’s helping me out,” she concluded. “That’s all this is.”
“Whatever you say,” Margo sing-songed, tearing another bite out of the turkey leg.
That night, Lilian woke up in a cold sweat. The paperback copy of The Raven King lay next to her bed, but something else had dragged her out of sleep. As she blinked into the quiet darkness of her room, a sharp pain slashed across her stomach.
She frowned, waiting for it to fade. But it hit again, harder than the first time. Then came the overwhelming urge to get out of bed.
She just barely made it to the toilet in time, her dinner coming up in a colorful spray of orange chunks. Her fingers gripped the porcelain as she heaved all the contents of her stomach up for an endless amount of time.
When she tried to crawl back into bed, another lurch dragged her back into the bathroom. She had enough sense to grab her phone and glance at the time. Three a.m. Oh, this was bad.