A series of knocks rapped on the door.
Calm, Justine. Calm.
She could do this.Theycould do it. Heck, they’d fooled Gramps easily enough; he should be the hardest of all to convince the two were in love.
Justine hurried over to the entrance, twisted the knob, and pulled the door open wide.
Holy gorgeousness.Burke—in a flannel shirt, mountain boots, and a pair of jeans—looked exactly like she pictured he might in an outfit like that. A ready-for-print lumberjack with a perfect build, a gleaming grin, and thick, dark hair that could sell any hair product known to man.
“Hi,” she chirped, surprised by how unaffected she’d managed to sound. “You look nice.”
His grin grew. Was that scruff? Her heart fluttered out of rhythm. He’d actually skipped his shave this morning. Or last night. Who knew what his habits were? All Justine knew is that short shadow of dark facial hair did wonderful things to the outline of his jaw and lips.
“So do you,” he said, nodding to the burgundy fitted sweater she wore.
After snatching a folded blanket off the couch, she pulled the door closed behind her, recalling how happy she’d been to see the storm clouds go a different direction, just as the forecast predicted. Sure, a lot of the event took place in the covered lodge, but with all the wide, barn-style doors open, and the numerous events set up along the surrounding land, rain would put a real damper on the festival. And it could have made the bonfire and the live music at the amphitheater impossible.
At his BMW, Burke opened the door for her. She climbed in, mentally counting the number of times she’d gotten into his car. The first day with the cat. Later that night. Then to go to Wilfred’s for dinner.
Wow, a lot had happened in a short time, hadn’t it?
“So,” Burke said, one hand draped casually over the wheel. She glanced over, hardly believing how very much she loved this look on him. “Do you have some sort of outline for this festival?”
Didshe? She was the one who’d typed it up for the whole town. “Yeah,” Justine said. “Tomorrow’s more…packed with events since it’s an all-day thing. But tonight we’ll have the booths going. A bunch of dinner options, grilled hot dogs and hamburgers. Pete’s Pub sets up to serve drinks. There are funnel cakes, caramel apples. Local talent at the amphitheater, and a big bonfire once it gets dark.”
“Sounds nice,” he said. “I think I overheard something about the bonfire. Can’t remember where. Think they were saying couples usually make out there?”
Justine bit her lip as delight washed over her at the mere thought. “Naughty ones do,” she said, and then laughed at herself.
“Well, I’m not about to ask you whether you’re naughty or nice because that would just be creepy.”
Now she laughed some more.
“So, what’s on tomorrow’s itinerary?”
“Tomorrow’s awesome.” Justine spun in her seat to face him as the words rushed to her lips. “Picture newspaper boat races for the smaller kids, a creek run for the teens, and ax throwing for the adults. We let the bonfire go all day so that when the teens are done with their race, they can change into their sweats and gather around the fire.” Memories from years past washed in, many relating to Gretchen and the special contributions she’d made over the years.
She noticed a wistful look in Burke’s eyes as she spoke. Was it possible he could appreciate the simple joy of such times? She hoped so.
“What about food competitions?” he asked.
“There’s a chili cook off Saturday night,” Justine said. She almost mentioned the pie pageant as well, but thought better of it. Better to break him in easily.
“It seems like I heard someone mention some kind of pie pageant,” he said.
If Justine’s eyes could pop out of her head, Burke’s comment would have made that happen. Her jaw dropped open. “Fromwho?”
A slight hint of pink washed over his face. “There’s no such thing?” he said with a laugh.
“No, there—”
“Good!” He sighed out a breath of relief.
“I wasn’t finished. I was saying,no,thereissuch a thing.”
“Ooh.” The pink shade in his face turned red. He was nodding a lot. And it seemed his expression looked caught between one of amusement and…fear?
“Listen, I haven’t been the biggest fan over the years. Itisabout who can bake the best pie, but in some ways it felt more like a beauty pageant than a bakeoff. Only women between the ages eighteen to thirty can enter, providing they’re single, that is, and they get crowned as Pie Princess with an actual crown…” She shook her head. “So when I got a job with the city, I tried to change it. I thought I’d constructed a good compromise—a simple bakeoff where anyone could enter—but I was dead wrong.”
