Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
A week later, Wren and Hadley approached downtown H-Town, and Wren placed her hand on her heart.
Her godmother might be a loon, but she and her fellow worker bees knew how to throw an event.
The main road was closed, and the ice cream vendors—from every corner of the state and beyond—had parked their trucks and carts next to Blackweather Green.
There were also a few trucks selling food, and close to the bandstand was a pop-up beer garden, aptly named Boos and Brews.
The massive banner across the road welcomed all to the “Ice Scream Spooktakular.”
In the fading light, orange and purple lights twinkled above their heads, drifting diagonally across the road from one lamppost to another, turning the fake cobwebs wrapped around the posts an eerie color.
Wren inhaled the smells of rich dairy, caramel, and chocolate, and grinned when a fog machine puffed blue-gray smoke onto the road to curl around the ankles of the many, many pedestrians.
Wren spotted Tad and Gina, two of her kids from dance class, heading toward them.
The couple had their hands tucked into the back pockets of each other’s denim shorts—Gina’s barely qualified as clothing—and their usual flock of followers trailed behind, desperate to catch a little of their golden sparkle.
“Ugh,” Hadley whispered, “here comes H-Town’s prince and princess.”
Wren shot her favorite person a smile. “That bad, huh?”
Hadley shrugged. “Tad’s nice, but Gina is a pill,” she stated.
“She’s a bully?”
Hadley thought about that for a moment. “Not like … classically evil or whatever. She’s just totally oblivious. Have you heard the way she talks to her friends—and Tad—when they don’t nail a step the second you show it? Or when someone messes up? She’s brutal.”
Wren had, actually. It wasn’t bad enough for her to intervene—yet—but she was keeping her eye on the situation.
“She isn’t…”—Hadley searched for the word—“kind.”
Kudos to Hayes for raising a kid whose highest value was kindness. She wrapped her arm around Hadley and gave her a quick hug. God, she loved this kid.
“They’ve been going together about six months now, and they seem pretty serious.
” Wren recognized the look on Hadley’s face as the laughing group passed her.
Yep, as she’d thought, Hadley had a not-so-subtle crush on Tad.
She’d suspected it from the way her attention frequently wandered to him in dance practice, but the naked longing on her face all but confirmed it.
Wren sighed. There was nothing worse than one-sided love as a teenager.
Actually, as she knew, there was nothing worse than one-sided love at any age. She and Hadley passed a few trucks, then stopped in front of a pink-and-black striped van. She nudged Hadley with her elbow. “What do you fancy, Hads?” she asked.
Hadley pointed to a picture of a white cone splattered with fake blood. “Vampire’s Delight looks good,” she replied.
She was drawn to the Graveyard Gravel (AKA cookies and cream) but thought she wanted to see what other flavors were on offer. “Shall we check out more trucks and then choose?” she asked.
Hadley nodded, and they moved on; three trucks later, they came across Dane and Hayes standing in line. Hadley took the money Hayes offered her and sent Dane a shy smile. Both men were casually dressed in simple T-shirts—red for Hayes, black for Dane—and cargo shorts.
Because she hadn’t seen Dane outside of dance practice and couldn’t stop thinking about their kiss—she’d woken up hot and sweaty this morning after a dream that started with a kiss and went much, much further—she’d spent far too much time deciding what to wear, just in case she ran into him.
After going through all her clothes, and getting more and more annoyed with herself, she’d pulled on a white button-down, slightly oversized, with the sleeves rolled up and the front casually tucked into blue denim cut-offs.
They hung low and had heavily frayed hems, which she thought gave her a laid-back, beachy vibe.
Tan leather espadrilles with ankle straps covered her feet.
Her phone and cash were tucked into the back pocket of her shorts.
Her curly hair, still a bit damp from her shower, cascaded down her back in a heavy mess, and she’d finished it off with a little mascara and a dab of gloss.
She saw Dane’s eyes drop to her legs and caught him closing his eyes with a swift intake of breath. Did he like what he saw? She rather thought he did.
After running from Dane’s kiss in the dance studio, she’d headed home, poured herself a massive glass of wine and took it and her phone to the beach.
There she’d had a two-hour long conversation with Poppy—far cheaper than therapy bills!
—who’d sensibly reminded her that a summer fling could be bright, hot, and temporary.
That it could, in fact, echo H-Town’s Summerween vibe—fast, colorful, and over before it could become too much or too scary.
“Hi,” she smiled at him. She’d last seen him at practice yesterday and had been wanting to run into him here.
In fact, she’d reminded her dance class, a few times, that it was the Ice Scream Spooktakular on Saturday and that she hoped to see them there.
To be fair, writing it in the sky would’ve been more subtle.
Hadley saw two of her friends, told Wren she’d see her later—ditched so soon!—and disappeared into the crowd. Then Hayes got a call and stepped out of the line. Dane gestured to the pretty, colorful flavors. “What’s your poison?” he asked.
Wren eyed the board. Caramel Cadaver. Cookies and Scream. Death By Chocolate, Cursed Cotton Candy. “I’ll have the Phantom Pistachio,” she told Dane, after thanking him.
He stepped up, smiled at the server, not noticing the way she flicked her hair or licked her lips because he was too busy looking at the selection below. Wren stood next to him and second-guessed her choice. Should she rather go for the Black Cat Fudge Attack or the Blood Velvet? Choices, choices.
She stuck with her choice, and Dane ordered a Haunted Kiss she wanted to step into his arms, boost herself up his body, and take and take and take.
No thoughts, just a surrender to the crashing waves of desire breaking over her head.
Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and she saw a fleck of ice cream on his lips.
She stood on her tiptoes to kiss it off, but at the last moment lost her courage and dusted it off with the tip of her finger.
His eyes didn’t leave hers, and his hand holding hers lowered the cone, but he didn’t let her go.
She didn’t care that they stood in the middle of the street, that tourists and residents had to weave their way around them; she didn’t care about anything except that she would either explode with frustration or whimper if Dane didn’t kiss her. Right damn now.
Dane lowered his head, and Wren closed her eyes, buzzing with anticipation. She waited, then waited some more.
And some more.
After another few seconds, she opened one eye and saw that Dane was polishing off her ice cream, amusement in his eyes.
She lunged for the cone and, as she took it, tiny droplets of green landed on her white shirt.
Her annoyance and embarrassment ratcheted up.
Heat turned her face bright red, and she glared at Dane.
She started to accuse him of being a tease, then hauled her words back.
She would not let him know how much he affected her.
And underneath the anger, she flogged herself.
Why was she hurtling into a situation that could backfire on her?
That had backfired on her. She wasn’t good at these man-woman situations.
She’d kissed Alex and read too much into something that meant nothing to him.
She’d slept with Kyro, but he’d misread her, or vice versa. Or both.
Dane’s eyes met hers, and she watched as confusion replaced the humor in his eyes. He swore softly and pushed his free hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he muttered.
Pulling the ice cream from her now too-tight grip, he tugged her out of the flow of the pedestrians to the side of the street. Next to a gelato cart, he tossed her ice cream into a trash can and turned her so that he shielded her from the people passing by.
“Stop it, Wren,” he commanded, and she heard irritation in his voice.
“Stop what?” she retorted, her hands going to her hips. She tossed her head, and, despite being embarrassed, just managed to hold his hot gaze.