11. BRIGGS
CHAPTER ELEVEN
brIGGS
brIGGS: Want to go to the county fair?
AUTUMN: What’s this? You’re willfully inviting me out to something that doesn’t involve us and a bed?
brIGGS: Against my better judgment. You’re the one who wants to become friends. Besides, I’ve been contracted to haul off the trash at the end of the fair, so I want to scope out the place.
AUTUMN: So, we’re calling this a work trip? LOL Works for me.
The ticket booth stands at the eastside edge of the fair. A small wooden structure, it houses two employees who look like they’d rather be anywhere but here on a muggy Thursday night.
Once Autumn and I have our neon green wristbands for entry, we head through the open gate to wander down a wide lane of carnival booths and food trucks.
“Let’s grab a drink while the line is short.” She tugs my arm in the direction of a white trailer with the words ‘LEMONADE’ and ‘FUNNEL CAKES’ written in bold black above a sliding window.
Waving off her offer to pay, I slide my card across the scuffed metal counter as we wait for our two lemonades in the commemorative tumblers, because why the hell not?
“I wouldn’t have expected you to spring for the expensive cup. I would have been fine with the plain disposable kind.”
“When at the county fair, right?” I brush off the weird tickling at the back of my mind. Like this is a date, and I’m trying to impress Autumn with souvenirs.
Ridiculous.
“Besides,” I continue, “You get more in those large tumblers, and since we may be here a while, it’s fiscally responsible.”
“Fiscally responsible… Two words that have never been uttered at a county fair where prices are jacked up on every little thing.” Autumn laughs as we gather our drinks with a word of thanks to the teen working the register.
“When’s the last time you went to the county fair?” she asks, changing the subject. Despite the lower crowds for a weeknight, we still stick close together, random guests bumping into us occasionally.
“Last year. When they contracted me for the trash service.”
Autumn drops a hand to my bicep and squeezes. I ignore the bolt of electricity the touch elicits in favor of watching the Tilt-a-Whirl spinning to our right.
“Wait, so you’ve already done this before? Why do you need to ‘scope’ anything out if you’re already familiar with the set-up?”
Shit, why does she have to be so curious?
I can barely explain it myself why I wanted to hang out with Autumn outside our usual fuck fests, especially after our tense conversation about my trust issues when it comes to women.
Honestly, I should want to avoid Autumn; she’d pried too close to shit that didn’t concern her. Yet, instead of running away, I pulled her closer.
“I like to be thorough.” I shrug with forced nonchalance.
She hums beneath her breath but lets it go.
The next hour passes with easy conversation as we wind our way through the fair, stopping to check out a few local exhibits like the tent for Miss Patty’s Apple Orchard and a log-carving demonstration sponsored by Olson-Keller Lumber & Construction.
Everything is going surprisingly well until a familiar head of bleached blonde hair with a signature couture purse appears ahead of us near the carousel.
“Fuck.” I try to steer Autumn back the way we came, but she digs her heels in, refusing to turn.
“What are you doing? The map said Pickle & Rye is at the end of this row.” We’d decided to grab dinner after Autumn’s stomach had growled the second time, and Suitor’s Crossing’s popular deli seemed like a good choice, since neither of us make it into the brick and mortar location very often.
Now, I’m regretting that decision.
“Let’s cut back and over where there’s less of a crowd,” I say, holding her hand in a firm grip.
“Not until you tell me why. You look like you’re about to howl at the moon like a freaking werewolf.”
“Well, they do say I act like a beast,” I try to joke, but it falls flat when Autumn levels an unamused stare at me.
“Talk to me. What’s suddenly got you feeling all itchy and feral-y.”
“Feral-y?” A bark of laughter bursts free before I can bottle it. Somehow, despite the groups of people between us, it draws Ashley’s attention.
Her perfectly shaped brows lift as she wrinkles her nose in distaste. Guess she’s still pissed that I’m the one who broke things off with her after getting sick of how she treated me.
Autumn follows my focus, and the two women study each other before I manage to manhandle the too-curious-for-her-own-good woman in my embrace into the empty space between two tents.
“Was that…?”
“Ashley. My ex,” I confirm. No use denying anything. She witnessed Ashley’s reaction to seeing me.
“The woman who pretended to care about you,” she recalled.
“One of them anyway.”
“Do you still have feelings for her?”
I jerk back in shock. “What? No!”
“Just checking, since you were so quick to want to run and hide.”
“I was not trying to run and hide.” Mostly. “I didn’t want her to cause a scene by spying on me with another woman. Things didn’t end well.”
“Who ended them?”
“Me.”
Her mouth rounds. “Oh.”
Music from the carousel drifts on the air as we stand there staring at each other. Rather than a happy tune, it sounds creepy—a scary clown’s theme song—to my ears.
Or maybe everything is now glossed with a negative sheen after bumping into Ashley.
“Davie… Me… We remind you of her?”
My muscles stiffen in a visceral reaction. Weeks ago, I would have immediately agreed. Hell, even during our phone call, I had similar thoughts.
Autumn grew up in a wealthy family. Her parents expected certain things from her. A classy aura trails her every word and action.
But that’s not all there is to her.
She’s kind and sassy, and she wore dirty sneakers and an oversized tee tonight rather than Ashley’s perfect, but inappropriate for a fair, get-up.
“You did… before,” I admit.
“Before…?”
My gaze bores into hers, silently pleading for her not to push.
I’m not ready to completely bare my soul to her.
I’m barely able to acknowledge how my heart is threatening to beat out of my chest to jump right into her soft palms.
She must read something in that quiet communication because a gentle smile flits across her plush lips. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “I think I understand.”
Autumn rocks to her tip toes, so our mouths meet in a tender kiss, and it’s then I realize how fucked I truly am over my little valkyrie.