“We’d like to thank all those who participated in the pumpkin-growing contest. There are many more opportunities to get involved with the festival and earn a ribbon or trophy. Check out our social media pages and the list of events posted at the entry gate.” Jenny smiled, and her teeth competed with the dress for brightness. “You don’t have to be a resident to participate. Okay, can I get a drumroll, please?”
A moment of silence rolled over the crowed as it dawned on them that she expected them to provide the drumroll. The man next to Judd began slapping his thighs in a quick beat. The kids joined in, and soon the crowd was roaring with anticipation.
Judd glanced at Wyatt. Their eyes met briefly, and a spark of competition ignited in his chest. He reached behind him for Wynn’s hand. Her cool skin was like a balm to his nerves. He laced their fingers together, not caring who saw them or what happened. He needed her.
“Wyatt Westbrook!”
Judd dropped his chin a fraction. Recovering quickly, he thrust his hand toward his cousin. “Congratulations.”
Wyatt pumped his arm. “Thanks, man.” He climbed the steps, pulling Stephanie by the elbow. She grimaced the whole time.
“What’s going on with those two?” Wynn asked, leaning close so she could be heard over the applause.
“I don’t know,” he replied.
Her hand went to his back, and she rubbed small, comforting circles.
“Does this mean we don’t get a trophy?” asked Laney. Her big blue eyes filled with water.
He scooped her up, and Wynn’s arms came around the both of them. Why did it have to feel so good? “What this means, princess, is that we are going to grow an even bigger and heavier pumpkin next year.” He tickled her until she laughed.
“Come on—I owe Birdie a dirty Dr. Pepper.” Wynn tugged them into movement.
Judd turned to look back at the stage just as Wyatt accepted his trophy. The man wasn’t smiling, and neither was his wife.
Wynn stopped and waited with him to catch up. “I’m sorry you didn’t win. You’ve been working for this for so long, it all feels unfair.”
“I may not have won, but I still feel like I came out on top.” He hooked his arm around her neck and rubbed the top of her head.
She shoved him away. “You’re so grounded, mister.” She smoothed out her hair. “Here I am trying to be understanding and supportive, and you mess up my hard work. Do you think this happens naturally?”
“Shut up. You’re beautiful.”
Her hands froze, and she stared at him as if trying to decipher his innermost thoughts.
He mentally kicked himself, praying that the truth of his words and the deep feelings behind them didn’t show on his face. “I mean, everybody can see it. Right, guys?” he asked Miles and Laney.
“Mommy’s pretty,” replied Laney.
Wynn seemed to realize they had an audience, because she tucked her hair behind her ear and put on her mommy face. “Thank you, honey. That’s so sweet.” She kissed the top of Laney’s head.
“Uncle Judd said it first—you should kiss him.” Ever the fair one, Miles was quick to point out inconsistencies.
Judd jumped in to save himself. “It’s okay. Your mom can buy me a soda, and we’ll call it even.”
Wynn nodded, grabbing on to his plan with vigor. “Any flavor you want.”
The flavor he wanted wasn’t on the menu at Pop ’N’ Fizz. He’d settle for … “I’ll try a Maui Wowie. It’s all the rage this year.”
“All the rage, huh?” She called him out on never using that phrase—ever.
The sarcastic Wynn he could handle. The sultry, sexy, pouty lips Wynn? Not so much. “It’s a real humdinger, I hear.” He cupped his ear like an old man who’d forgotten to put in his hearing aids.
“We’d better shake a leg, then.” She put her hand out and pretended to walk on shaky legs while using a cane.
Miles and Laney looked at them and then at each other. “Grownups are weird,” Miles told his baby sister. He took her hand and headed toward the food booths as if he were trying to get her out of the situation without being contaminated by their weirdness.
Wynn cupped her mouth and whispered, “It’s too late for them—they have our genes.”
