“We’ve grown over the years. The Spring Festival’s kind of famous now.” I dodge a toddler racing by with a pinwheel. “People from neighboring towns come just for the maple kettle corn and Ferris wheel rides.”
Logan’s head tilts back, following the slow rotation of the massive wheel dominating the skyline. “Ferris wheel, huh?”
“So . . .” I rock on my heels, feeling strangely bold. “You wanna ride it?”
His Adam’s apple bobs visibly. “I think I’m good.”
“What’s the matter? Afraid of heights?” I tease, already knowing the answer from his suddenly pale complexion.
“Have you forgotten I fell out of your bedroom window and barely survived?”
“Come on, it wasn’t that bad.”
“We could walk around first.” He gestures vaguely toward the food section. “Look at the funnel cakes.”
“No one will see us up there,” I counter, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the line. The flash of panic in his eyes only emboldens me. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
The line moves quickly, and before Logan can invent a convincing escape plan, we’re being ushered into a swinging car. As the wheel lifts us slowly into the air, I watch his knuckles turn white against the safety bar.
“You okay?” His sudden shallow breathing worries as it reminds me of the day I found him feverish on his couch.
He inhales shakily before answering, “I don’t do well with heights.”
I blink twice. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.”
“The fearless Logan Humphries,” I laugh softly, “afraid of a carnival ride? If only your fans knew.”
“Don’t you dare record this.”
The fright he displays makes me wonder which is real—the bad-boy pop star splashed across tabloids, or this vulnerable man beside me whose leg won’t stop bouncing. We reach the very apex, and the wheel jerks to a stop.
Logan flinches, his entire body seizing like he’s been electrocuted. “Oh, come on.”
“Close your eyes,” I instruct. When he complies, I take his hand in mine. His palm sweats as he squeezes back with surprising strength. “Focus on us. Up here, no one can see you.”
I reach up, gently removing his cap and sunglasses, and setting them in my lap. His black hair is unruly, strands kicking every which way as if they were gel spiked. The urge to rake my handthrough his thick mane comes over me, but I tame it. My gaze falls to his mouth, and I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to kiss his opulent lips.
His eyelids pop open and his startlingly blue eyes collide with mine, spiking my pulse.
“That’s it,” I murmur. “Just focus on me.”
For one brief moment, everything else falls away—the fake relationship, the upcoming wedding, my lingering trust issues. We stare at each other, suspended between earth and sky.
“Maisie,” he begins, his voice but a whisper.
The wheel groans back to life with a jolt that breaks the spell. Logan blinks rapidly, leaning back and reaching for his disguise as our car descends toward reality.
We don’t speak until we’re off the ride, and my fingers fumble with the lacy hem of my dress. There are moments between us that make it all feel so real . . . and I have no idea what to make of them. Does he feel the same way I do?
As we step away from the Ferris wheel, I spot the only couple in town that make me want to throw up. Twenty yards ahead, Lindsey and Andy stroll hand-in-hand through the crowd, looking like they stepped out of a Ralph Lauren commercial.
“Let’s get out of here,” Logan says, his hand finding the small of my back. I catch him glancing in their direction before he steers me toward the food stalls. “Urgent ice cream business.”
We end up at Granny Jo’s booth, which gives off the sweet scent of waffle cones and fresh berries. Logan stares at the chocolate fountain like it personally called his name.
Granny Jo squints at him from behind her pristine counter. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
