Enough…that I know Kylie is going to love this.
I lead her around the small shack that serves up those delicious hot dogs and up the narrow trail.
“Is this where you bury my body?” she asks as the trees close in and the path narrows.
“Funny.”
A sexy smile pointed in my direction. “I thought so.”
Faint music hits my ears and I know the moment that she hears it because her steps falter. “Wh?—?”
But we’re turning the corner and?—
“Oh, my God.”
The hidden clearing is ringed in twinkling lights, small booths set up on the edges—selling everything from hot chocolate to funnel cakes to hats and gloves and trinkets.
“What is this?” she asks, spinning in a slow circle, the smile on her face not sexy in the least. It’s filled with wonder, with awe, with joy, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Winter carnival,” I say. “They hold it for a few weeks every December.”
She stops her revolution, gaze locking onto mine. “Why are we here?”
“Because I thought you’d like it.” I touch her cheek. “And because I still owe you that first date.”
She closes her eyes.
But when she doesn’t open them for a long moment, I start to think I fucked up.
“Baby?”
Her lids peel back and then she’s in my arms, her lips pressed to mine.
“Let’s see everything,” she says, dropping back down onto her heels, taking my hand, and tugging me in the direction of the first booth.
Hot chocolate.
“I thought you were full?” I ask as she places an order for two of “The Works.”
“My dessert stomach is never full.”
Grinning, I swipe my card before she can dig in her purse for her wallet.
“Colt,” she protests softly.
“Date,” is all I say in return.
Her smile is soft, sweet, and then we’re strolling through the booths, hot chocolates in hand.
“Oh, look at that!” she exclaims of a tiny stuffed cow, complete with an adorable mop top of hair, picking it up and cuddling it close for a couple of seconds before putting it back down amongst its brethren and drifting toward the end of the table.
I catch the shopkeeper’s eye.
He smiles and we make a surreptitious exchange—cash for cow—as Kylie searches through earrings and bracelets and hair clips.
I make a few more quiet purchases as she snags a couple of items for the reading corner in her classroom, and then we’re moving toward the dance floor where the soft music is originating. It’s covered by a tent with tables on the perimeter and heaters propped up at regular intervals to make it a cozy place to stop and eat the funnel cake she insists she has room for.
“Want some?” she asks, breaking off a piece and holding it up.
