“I’d better let you boys start your party!” Amy said with a grin. “My fifth watermelon mojito is calling my name.”
“You’re drinking around the kids?” I frowned.
“Of course they are,” Hunter said. “Because my sisters are a lot more civilized than my brothers.”
Several of the Svensson brothers were blowing up bouncy animals for the kids to play with in the town square.
I sat on a bench with Hunter.
“You ready to be married?” I asked him.
“Absolutely,” he said then turned to me. “And you seem like you’re on the path.”
I grinned up at the evening sky. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Is there a festival today?” one woman asked as she walked by with her dog.
“Yes!” Alfie and several Svenssons said. “It’s a bachelor festival.”
“Just my luck!” the young woman said. “I happen to be in need of a bachelor.”
“We have meatballs and sausages,” one of the kids said excitedly.
Hunter and I bit back snickers as the kids dragged her over to the party and happily petted her dog and fed him treats.
Hunter’s college-aged brothers were more than happy to flirt with the woman. She snapped a few selfies as other people from town started wandering to the square.
One of the local bands set up in the gazebo and started playing nineties cover songs.
“And lo,” Hunter said, gesturing grandly, “another small-town festival was born.”
“Surely we’re not going to have an official bachelor festival,” I said in shock.
“This is how the chicken festival was started,” Hunter explained, pulling out the bottle of scotch and two cups. He poured us each a drink. “A truck was transporting chickens through town, even though there are signs everywhere that trucks are supposed to go around. Surprise, surprise, it couldn’t make a turn onto one of the narrow streets. It tipped over, and the chickens escaped. The entire town spent the day collecting the chickens, and now it’s an annual event.”
A tipsy woman got up on the gazebo and took the microphone from the band and slurred, “Let’s get this bachelor festival started, ladies! I know we have some good-looking bachelors in the audience. Guys, why don’t you come up here and show us what you’ve got?”
One of Hunter’s brothers jumped onto the stage and whipped off his shirt.
“Is it raining out here, or are you ladies just wet?”
“Oh, hell no,” Hunter growled, jumping up off the bench and moving swiftly to collect his brother.
“You planned a whole festival!” Amy squealed, coming up and wrapping her arms around my neck. “Oh my god, I think I’m in love with you!”
I grinned as a bloom of warmth like a sunflower rose in me. I pulled her to me and kissed her face and her mouth, the alcohol and the warm night making me relaxed.
Amy said she loves me.
“I think Hunter’s about to shut it down,” I said, inclining my head as several of his brothers, sans pants and shirts, went sprinting through the crowd as women screamed giddily and snapped photos.
“No, it can’t end!” Ida complained as she and several seniors hauled wooden targets behind them into the square. “We just got here. This festival is about to get lit!”
“Ax throwing! Sweet!” One of the mostly naked Svenssons paused in front of Ida.
Dottie fanned herself.
“I’ll let you throw my ax if you let me throw yours,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.
