Wynn froze in place to check herself and stared at Birdie who had a huge, self-satisfied smile on her face. “Where’s the table?”
She turned her attention to the empty space in the middle of the tent. Four 6x6 squares outlined on the rug were the only indication that her showpiece existed.
“I sold it!” Bridie squealed and threw her arms out. “A cute family from New York wanted it. They backed up and loaded the whole thing within minutes of their credit card clearing.”
Wynn pressed her cold hands to her cheeks. “It’s gone. I can’t believe it’s actually gone. Do you know what this means?” She gulped and pressed on without waiting for an answer. “It means, I own a viable business. I turned a profit. I have to pay taxes on my income.” She jogged in place. “Birdie—I’m a successful business owner.”
Birdie smacked Wynn’s outstretched hand. “Yeah, you are.”
Wynn traced an indent with her toe, pride welling up inside of her. “I feel like I grew up today.”
Birdie laughed.
“No, really.” She’d set out to prove she could provide for her family, that she not only had dreams but could chase them. “Have you told Judd?”
Birdie shook her head. “Why would I?”
“Don’t. I want to be the one to tell him.”
“Kay.” Birdie lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug.
Wynn glanced at her phone. She couldn’t wait for Judd to pick her up tonight. This kind of news was best to share in person. Because celebrating—in person—was a lot more fun now that she could kiss him.
Several hours passed. She and Birdie traded off talking to customers and selling knickknacks, decorations, and picture frames. Wynn walked with a new sense of importance. Oh, it would fade in a day or two—probably when one of the kids spilled a drink down her front or pitched a fit in the grocery store. But she wanted to ride the high for a little while.
“Why are you so antsy?” Birdie asked.
Wynn froze in place to check herself and stared at Birdie. “I’m not antsy. Why would you think that?”
Birdie took the duster out of Wynn’s hand. “Because you’ve been waving this around like a fairy godmother and haven’t actually dusted anything.”
Wynn blushed. Being outside was part of the draw for the festival, but it also meant regular dusting to keep the booth clean and inviting. “It must be the fact that we sold the table.” In truth, she hadn’t been thinking about the table as much as she thought about sharing the joy with Judd. He’d been grumpy in his texts—saying he run into Wyatt that morning and the guy was in a mood. She wanted to turn his frown upside-down—manually if needed.
Birdie was going to close down the booth, and the two of them would be blessedly alone in his truck.
Her heart fluttered at the possibilities. There were just so many of them between this spot and home. Heck, there were dozens of kissing nooks between here and the parking lot. She’d never paid that much attention to hidey holes, but now it was all she could think about.
“You sold the table?” Judd’s voice acted like jumper cables attached to her heart and set it racing.
She turned around, smiling so big she might pull a muscle. “Judd.” His name came out like a tidal wave of relief. He was here. Being apart was so much harder now that she knew how good it was to be lip-smacking close.
Their eyes met and held. The fair faded away—all except the scent of honey that always permeated the air, thanks to the booth next door. Still, it was sweet and deep and all things scrumptious—like Judd. She calmed down and fired up all at once.
“Technically,Isold it, but who’s keeping track?” Birdie waved her hand in front of Judd’s face. “Are you that shocked someone bought it? Geez, have a little faith, man.”
“I have all the faith in the world in Wynn,” he replied.
Warmth spread from her belly to her chest and then down her arms until her palms grew slick. She tucked them into her back pockets and rocked on her heels, feeling shy for the first time in her life in front of Judd.
Birdie rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She flounced off, pulling her phone from her back pocket to check texts.
Wynn ducked her head.
“Are you ready to go?” Judd hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I have a great parking spot if you need to get some things done.”
“Um …” Right now would be a good time to remember some of her old flirting moves—except she didn’t have any. “Do you want to grab a Butterbeer on our way out?” Maybe reminding him of the other night would be enough to spark some interest in his eye.
“I’m good, but we can stop if you want one.”
