Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Zane
The fairgrounds were packed and buzzing with energy.
Live music blared from the stage—some twangy cover band butchering a George Strait song—while kids zigzagged through booths, faces painted like superheroes and unicorns half-melting thanks to the Texas heat.
Smoke from the barbecue pit clung to the air, mixing with the sweet scent of kettle corn and fried dough.
And everywhere I looked, people were smiling, shouting, and calling out my name like I hadn’t fallen off the face of the earth for a year.
I gave a few nods and a few half-hearted waves, but mostly I kept walking.
Because all I could see was her—standing near a long table lined with pies with her hands clasped in front of her like she didn’t know what to do with them.
Her braid had loosened over one shoulder, little strands of it escaping with the help of the day's humidity that refused to let up. She looked flushed and completely unsure of herself, and I…I wanted to take that insecurity away from her. I wanted to march up to that table, frame her face in my hands, and tell her straight that she was strong and brave as hell—even if she didn’t feel it right now.
But I didn’t move because, truth be told, I didn’t know what I was doing anymore.
Kissing her under oak trees.
Licking bourbon-laced peach syrup off her lips in my mother’s kitchen.
Kissing her again after she’d wrecked me with that flinch.
Andi Ford was supposed to be a stranger passing through, but then she went and flipped my whole damn world upside down.
I’d been a dick that first week, and even worse the next.
I’d pegged her as nothing more than a burr in my boot—a nuisance hitching a free ride.
So I’d watched her. Tested her. Pushed her buttons on purpose just to see what she’d do.
But somewhere in between the icy glares and verbal sparring, I started looking forward to her being around.
Started noticing the way she twirled the ends of her hair when she was focused or nervous.
I’d catch myself waiting for her to look my way when she was slinging drinks behind Red’s bar, or leaning in to hear what she whispered to the horses when she thought no one was paying attention.
And that night in the barn? When I scared her by accident?
I didn’t need the words to know what she’d been through.
I saw it in her eyes. I felt it when she flinched.
And, yeah, I kissed her after that. Not because I was trying to make a move, but because I needed her to feel something good.
Something safe. Even if it was just for that moment.
Even if she forgot it—forgot me—the second she walked away from this little town and the life she was slowly building here.
“Want me to get you a bib?”
I startled at the sound of Luke’s amused voice way too damn close to my ear—not enough to make me jump, but definitely enough to piss me off. I immediately scowled to cover it up. “You trying to get your teeth knocked in?”
Luke just smirked and settled in next to me. “You were starin’ hard,” he said, biting into a corn dog. “Figured I’d save you the embarrassment of drooling on yourself.”
“I’m scoping out Mom’s competition,” I shot back, crossing my arms over my chest and deepening my scowl as I tried to sell the lie.
“Uh-huh.” He chewed around a grin. “Mrs. Tennyson’s been Mom’s main competition for the last fifteen years. Funny how you haven’t looked at her once.”
I grunted.
“Just admit you like her.”
I chewed on the inside corner of my mouth.
“She likes you too, y’know.”
“Don’t,” I warned.
“What? I’m just saying—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Oh good. Denial,” he said, nodding and holding up his hand as he started ticking off fingers.
“Let’s review. First, she was a thief, or a con artist, or whatever that too-many-concussions brain of yours cooked up to push her away.
Then you went all horse whisperer on her with that ‘something tells me you’ve never broken a nose before’ line.
Then I find you two making heart eyes by the trailer, and now—”
“She’s leaving.”
“So?”
“So, I’m not starting something with someone who’s packing up and heading out the minute her car’s fixed.”
“Did she say that?”
I paused. “That’s the deal.”
“Okay…or maybe,” Luke said, toning down the humor in his voice and sliding into something more serious, “that’s what she thinks the deal is, because no one’s given her a reason to believe otherwise.”
I stared at him—irritated and perplexed.
He lifted his hands. “Hey, man. You’re the one who’s been dragging your boots ever since that altar stunt last year with Brianna. I get it. You don’t wanna get burned again.”
“It’s not just that,” I said. “She’s…” I paused again. Her past wasn’t my story to tell. “I don't wanna push her.”
Luke nodded slowly. “So don’t push. Just be there. Show up. Women love a man who doesn’t make her do all the emotional heavy lifting.”
My mouth fell open slightly as I narrowed my eyes and stared, hard and unapologetic, at my younger brother. “Since when did you become the goddamn love doctor?”
He smirked. “Since I watched you act like a lovesick ranch dog for the last few weeks. Besides, that barrel racer I talk to from time to time—”
Talk. Pfft. I highly doubt they do much talking.
“—likes romance novels. I’ve flipped through them while she’s in the shower, and I’ve read enough to know that you’re halfway to a love confession.”
I barked a laugh. “You’re insufferable.”
“It’s pronounced irresistibly well-rounded.”
We fell quiet for a beat then, with the crowd buzzing around us and the music shifting into some up-tempo fiddle nonsense. My eyes moved back toward Andi. She was smiling at something one of the judges had just said—soft and small, like it surprised her.
And I felt it again. That pull.
Luke elbowed me. “There’s your opening. Go.”
“For what?”
“To talk to her, genius. Compliment her pie. Tell her she looks pretty. Maybe serenade her with one of those sappy songs you constantly strum on your guitar.” He grinned, and I knew whatever was about to come out of his mouth wouldn’t be good.
“Or you could just cut to the chase, and tell her you’ve been thinking about what her legs would feel like wrapped around your waist—”
“Stop.”
“—and how you’ve been wondering how her skin would taste after a good long tease—”
“Luke…”
“But you gotta say it like you’re already halfway inside her—”
“Okay, okay! Jesus, Luke,” I snapped and shoved his shoulder, pushing past him as I started for the pie table. “Shut your filthy mouth and go find someone else to be a menace to.”
The sound of his obnoxious laughter faded into the crowd as my boots cut a determined path through the dirt and grass.
My heart was beating a little too fast for comfort.
Not because I was nervous—hell, no—but because I hadn’t planned on today meaning anything…
and suddenly, it did. Because I wanted something with her. Anything she’d let me have.
By the time I reached the pie table, Andi was beaming as she accepted a ribbon and a handshake from one of the judges.
It was a third-place ribbon, but she was glowing like she’d just won the whole shebang.
I slowed, taking in the way her eyes sparkled as another one of the judges shook her hand and patted her gently on the back.
She caught sight of me then, and her smile faltered for just a second before resurfacing—smaller, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to share this moment with me, or worse… if I’d take it away.
“Congratulations,” I said, giving her a smile that I hoped would bring that glow back and gesturing to her ribbon. “Third place is great. Especially for your first time.”
“I’m trying not to let it go to my head.” She laughed, and the sound was soft and sweet…and one hundred percent Andi when she dropped her walls.
“You should,” I said, meeting her eyes. “You earned it.”
“Well, I had a great taste tester.” The second the words left her mouth, her cheeks went crimson.
I grinned because, yeah, I was a damn good taste tester.
She pulled her gaze away from mine and looked down at the ribbon in her hands, brushing a thumb over the gold lettering. “I don’t think I’ve ever won anything before.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, and that thing pounding inside my chest begged to differ too.
“Well, it sounds like you need a victory meal,” I said. “Have you eaten anything?” I nodded toward the rows of food vendors. “The whole place smells like a fried heart attack, but I could go for something questionable.”
Andi laughed and pinned her ribbon to her jeans. “I could eat.”
I nodded once, and then—before I could think better of it—held out my hand.
It lingered there in suspense as she glanced at it, and I almost pulled it back, cursing myself for getting ahead of things.
But then she slowly linked her fingers with mine, and it was that hot fence sensation all over again.
“The hotdog stand probably hasn’t passed inspection since the nineties,” I warned, taking a turn for myself to deflect. “How do you feel about brisket tacos? There’s a booth near the Ferris wheel that loads them up with green chile and queso.”
“I’m good with that, but only if we can split a funnel cake after,” she said. “My dad and I used to do that.”
Her voice drifted off like she’d slipped into a memory, and I could sense that I was about five seconds away from losing her to it. I didn’t want her to shut down.
“What was he like?” I asked.
She perked up at that, glancing at me surprised. “You want to know about my dad?”
“Yeah,” I said, shrugging a little. “And your mom, too. Nothing specific…just whatever you feel like sharing.”
Andi looked forward again, our hands still laced between us and her thumb tracing lazy circles against my knuckle. “He was a goof,” she said eventually. “He loved to joke and loved to make everything feel like an adventure.”
I smiled at that.
“My mom was fun, too, but a lot more focused. She made sure the bills were paid and that I ate real food and didn’t go to school looking like a feral child.
” She let out a breath that was a cross between a laugh and a sigh.
“And they loved each other. Like, really loved each other.” Her eyes met mine for a brief moment. “They kind of set the bar high.”
We kept walking, kept holding hands, passing a booth selling hand-dipped corn dogs and another with rows of neon-colored slushies. A family of four darted by with matching T-shirts and balloon animals.
“Was it just you and your parents?” I asked.
She nodded at that, a little wistful. “Yeah. My parents tried for more kids, but it never happened. It would have been nice to have a brother or a sister, though. Someone to ride life out with, ya know?” She leaned into me with a gentle nudge. “You’re lucky you have that.”
I chuckled. “I probably feel more annoyed than lucky most days.”
“Still,” she said, chuckling with me. “You guys stick together, and I love that.” She went quiet for a moment before adding, “It’s hard to picture someone walking away from what you all have.”
“Yeah, well, my dad managed to do it just fine.” My tone was casual, but my jaw had gone tight.
“It’s weird how your mind tends to cling to the worst parts of a person and lets the rest fade out.
” I paused and glanced down at our joined hands for a half a second.
“Right now, I couldn’t tell you if he was a goof or if he ever had that kind of love for my mother like your dad had for your mom,” I said.
“All I remember is that he left us when I was five. I was too young to fully understand what was going on, but old enough to realize I had to step up.”
She squeezed my hand. “That’s a lot for a five-year-old.”
“Yeah.” I shrugged half-heartedly. “Little me taking on big shoes.”
We came to a stop by the Ferris wheel, and she moved to stand in front of me, using her free hand to reach up and lightly trace her fingertip along the semi-permanent scowl line etched between my eyebrows. My breath stalled for a beat.
“You’re a good man, Zane McKade,” she said softly, gliding her fingertips down my neck and letting them settle in the soft dip at the base of my throat.
Her words caught me off guard, as did her touch, and for a second I just stared.
“But do you know what would make you a better man?”
Amused curiosity lifted my mouth. “This oughta be good.”
Her bottom lip went between her teeth as she bounced on her toes, her excitement infectious as she tugged me toward the nearest game booth.
I scanned over the game and the prizes curiously when my eyes landed on something ridiculous enough to make me pause.
A mix of confusion and amusement twisted my lips.
She smiled up at me, eyes dancing with mischief. “Winning me that, cowboy.”