“Asshole, dickhead, bastard…”
“I say them in the nicest way. Just like you do when you call me a bitch.”
“Yeah. I wish I could agree with that. Chances are, if I’m calling you a bitch, you’re being one.” Sheets rustling come down the phone, and I grin.
Hard to argue with the truth. I wear my bitch badge with pride.
“What do you want, Noelle?”
“Did you interview the boyfriend yet?”
“How did I know you were gonna say that?” he grumbles, and the toilet flushes in the background.
“Did you just pee on the phone with me?”
Silence.
“Now, I’m hoping you peed on the phone with me,” I say hesitantly. Wow. This relationship is going at warp speed.
“How much coffee have you had already? Wait, why are you even up this early to harass me?”
“Since when was your girlfriend calling you at seven in the morning harassing—wait. Never mind.” I scratch my forehead. “Well, did you?”
“No. I’m talking to him this morning. I’m sure Carlton will be able to give you the full transcript by dinnertime.” He doesn’t exactly sound happy about that…
“Ah, I see you have a problem with his information-finding skills now.”
“Nope.” Drawers shut in the background, and Drake yawns again. “Was there anything else?”
“Yes. In the interest of full disclosure, you should know I’ve been up since four thirty after being sleep terrorized by horny, panty-wielding parrots, and I promise to give back the files Carlton borrowed.”
Drake is quiet for a long moment, and since there’s no background noise, I imagine he’s standing in the middle of his bedroom, trying to process that sentence. And I imagine he’s doing it in his underwear, because if I’m imagining him, that fine body is not clothed.
“I have no idea how to respond to that, so I’m going to say you’ve had way too much coffee.”
“Possibly. But it’s all true. Panty-wielding parrots are no joke.”
“You’re gonna have to explain that to me tonight. Maybe. I don’t even know if I want to know about fucking panty-wielding parrots.”
I sigh heavily and rest my chin in my hand. “I wish I didn’t.”
Holly Woods Summer Fair is one of my favorite times of the year. Mostly because of my addiction to sweet things, and it happens to come with an abundance of those. Not to mention Rosie and Melanie have stalls right next to each other, and both of them sell their most popular sweet treats.
This year, Melanie has the most amazing strawberry shortcake cupcakes, and Rosie has a brand-new berry pie that no one seems to be able to figure out.
It’s like a sugar addict’s heaven.
I also love the smell. Of candy apples and cotton candy, and burgers and hot dogs, and let’s just all accept now that no amount of time on the treadmill is gonna make up for the next two weeks. If I make peace with that now, I won’t hate myself at the end of the month.
Okay. I will. I’ll fucking hate myself for eating so much gooey goodness, but hey. I’m gonna do it anyway. At least I’m ready to hate myself.
I saunter through the stalls, having swapped my workday high heels for thick-heeled cowboy boots. The fields the fair spreads out on are hired out to the council by the farmer who owns them, and the council in turn hires it out to the travelers that provide most of it. The field with the stalls is separated from the fair field by an open gate, but rides and stalls are rammed right up against the gates running between them. Every inch of space is used.
For fifty weeks of the year, I forget how diverse our little town is. Alonso is here somewhere with his freshly made pizza, and between the cultural wares of the travelers and other things, there are several mystical stores. One of which obviously belongs to Dina White, Holly Woods’ own mythical expert.
Or so they say. Witches and ghosts and things aren’t really something I’ve ever taken an interest in. I think that stems from the time my brothers forced me into the old, abandoned theater on the edge of town after they’d filled my nine-year-old mind with stories of the otherworldly. Their subsequent tricks have scarred me for life.
Bek is different. I know she regularly goes into Dina’s store—heck, I don’t even know its name—and buys candles. She also has a few crystal things because “they’re pretty.”
Yeah, well, so are shoes. And I can use those puppies.
I feel like I should probably wander over there, but I’m kind of a chicken and scared I’ll end up buying something out of politeness. Because, despite my affinity for bitchiness, I am actually a genuinely nice person. I just have to, you know. Like you.
Okay. I’m not a total bitch. I’m more…strong-willed. Yeah, strong-willed. I like that. I need to make a note to tell Drake that. And my brothers. And my grandmother. And my employees.
Never mind.
“You look like you’re fixin’ to cause trouble.”
I smile at the deep voice and turn. “I don’t cause trouble. It finds me. You should know that by now.”
Drake grins, his arms folded across his chest. His white shirt is as well-fitting as always, stretched across his biceps, and the sleeves are rolled to just above his elbows. He’s missing the tie, and I don’t blame him. It is kinda hot out.
“Hmm,” he hums. “That’s why you’re wandering around here by yourself.”
“I was looking for you, actually,” I lie.
His raised eyebrow tells me he’s seen right through me.
Yep. Gonna have to cut him loose. I’m starting to think I’m not nearly as mysterious as I thought. He, however…
“You were checking out the food stalls, weren’t you?” he asks, a twinkle of laughter brightening his ice-blue eyes.
I lick my lips. “I have absolutely no idea what you mean.”
“No?” He smirks and reaches for me. He slowly wipes his thumb over the corner of my mouth, holding my gaze, then pulls it back and holds it in front of me.
There’s a telltale sign of deep-red sauce on it. The tiniest amount, mind you.
“Then what’s this? Berry lipstick?”
Dammit, Rosie’s pie. I knew I shouldn’t have been her guinea pig.
I drop my head back like a petulant child. “Ugh, okay. I had pie for dinner. I’m an adult. I can make bad life choices like that.” Although, if you ask me, there’s nothing bad about pie for dinner. Which is why no one did, or will, ask me. “Rosie made one to see if it bakes as well in the trailer as in the café and I just happened to be there.”
Drake wipes his thumb on his black pants, still smiling. “Did you save me any?”
I snort and start walking.
His laughter catches up with me as he does. He tugs on a lock of my hair. “Just kiddin’, cupcake. I’m not that dumb. I know you’ll never save me pie. Or cake.”
“Thank God. It’s so much easier when we’re on the same page about that stuff.” I shoot him a half smile.
“Rosie will though.”
“Only because Miss Rosie is sweet on you and the way you compliment her every time you walk through the door.” I elbow him lightly.
Rosie is in her early fifties, completely gray, and the kindest woman I’ve ever met.
“I’m just bein’ a gentleman.”
I give him a suspicious smile, and the one he returns makes my stomach flip.
One thing is for sure. I will never get used to the way he makes me feel.
“Sooo…” I hook my thumbs over the belt loops of my shorts. “Did you speak to Brook Meyers?”
“Fuckin’ knew it,” Drake mutters. “Always an ulterior motive with you.”
“I’ll buy you pie.”
“Add a blow job and I’ll consider it.”
“That’s so childish.”
“So is your pie bribe.”
“Whatever. You know I’ll find out anyway. You may as well just tell me—”
“Or you’re gonna bug the shit outta me until I do because you know I can’t leave until everyone is ready for the opening tomorrow,” he interrupts me, finishing with a deep sigh. “You’re a real fuckin’ pain in the ass. You know that, Noelle?”